#.I need it to be the 8th in the afternoon (with a good exam done ofc) & Imma rest aaaaallll dayyyy
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FOUR MONTHS, or what happens between President Clinton's visit to Derry on November 30th, 1995 and Erin and Orla's isolation tape recorded on March 30th, 1996.
Part 1 here
January 8th, 1996
Of course she’d get sick the very first school day of the year. Of course.
Not that she would have particularly minded in other circumstances: she’s not an eejit, she won't turn away a couple of days of doing nothing and everyone fussing over her when it comes her way. Plus, Granda always makes his special hot chocolate when one of them is sick, and Christ if that isn’t the best thing she ever tasted.
But the thing is, she’s been sick sick, headaches and nausea and sore throat and all, and it’s been days, and she’s - well, sick of it. It doesn’t help that Anna’s been sick as well, which means that not only is no one available to bring special attention to her through the whole ordeal, but Mammy’s unhinged like - for real. So far, her shouts have done nothing to improve Erin’s state.
The worst of it has passed now, but she still feels kind of hazy and needs to sleep every two hours, so she’s not allowed to go back to school just yet. Again, that wouldn’t have particularly broken her heart, but teachers are always out of their minds at the beginning of the new year, full of motivation and good resolutions, and this time around, with the mock exams in addition to that? Clare must be rubbing out on her, because the thought of this, and the idea of having so much to catch up on when she gets back stresses her out.
Plus, she misses the girls. At the exception of Orla, nobody’s been allowed past the door yet.
1996 is off to such a good start.
The day has been mostly quiet: Granda spent an hour criticizing Da’s drive skills, but Anna’s been crying a little less, and Erin has managed a good three hours downstairs with everyone before the headache starts. She’s been alternating between reading her Christmas gift and nodding off ever since.
It’s well into the afternoon when someone knocks at her bedroom door.
“What are you doing here?” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth as James pops his head in, all smiles and wild curls.
She’s so surprised, her stomach does a somersault inside.
“Well, hello to you too, Erin - I see bedrest has done wonders for your manners,” and she chuckles with him as he easily catches the pillow she throws at him.
“How did you get in here? I thought Mammy was watching the door like a prison warden.”
“She did kick us out in less than five words and five seconds both times we tried last week,” he confesses, his face a mix of amusement and sorry about that. “So, I tried a different approach today.”
She raises a curious eyebrow.
“James Maguire, did ye finally find a way to bribe my Ma? Because a lot of people would pay for this secret - the inhabitants of this house very much included.” He laughs, and Erin realizes that she’s missed that sound.
“Not yet, no. But I did mention that you needed your homework if you didn’t want to get behind.”
“But Orla’s been bringing it to me.”
His face twists a little in embarrassment. “Yes, that’s what your mum said.” Then, something like pride twinkles in his eyes. ”So, I told her we really needed to start our homework sessions, because the teachers already gave us so much to do, and you know, exams are coming - real soon, too.”
“Our - what?”
He smirks. “Come on Erin, you remember: the sessions you and I said we’d start this year - you helping me with my English, me with your math?”
Shaking her head at the cheeky attitude that’s starting to radiate through his every pore, Erin tries and fails to contain her smile.“I can’t believe Mammy bought that.”
“Of course she did - I’m an excellent liar.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, well, a good enough one. Although I did tell her that you weren’t contagious anymore at this point - which is true, I looked it up - so I think that helped, too. Also I think her show had started, so I’m pretty sure she would have agreed to anything to stop me from talking and go back to the TV.”
Dopey grin very much still on, James takes off his jacket, and throws himself next to her on the bed. “Alright - you’ll never guess what Jenny did this morning.”
January 14th, 1996
To her right, Clare’s great uncle’s loud snores rise again, each one even more impressive than the other. Not that she can blame him, really: Christ but that movie is bad. She’s not even sure she gets it. Well, at least she hopes she doesn’t, because otherwise, that means that this man just married his own sister, which really -
“Damn, that movie really is shit, isn’t it?”
She rolls her head to see James’ standing in the doorway, eyes focused on the TV and corridor’s lights shedding pretty shadows on his face. When his eyes meet hers, he chuckles, then gestures towards her TV partner.
“Your new friend seems to be enjoying it, though.” She snorts.
“He was way smarter than me on that one - there’s things I won’t be able to unsee. Ever,” and that earns her another chuckle.
He keeps his eyes on hers a little after, and Erin just looks back at the screen, trying her best to swallow the lump coming back in her throat, and focus on the God awful story instead.
It’s not that easy, but she keeps trying anyway.
After a moment, she feels more than sees him close the distance and sit down next to her on the floor, back against the sofa. He copies her and lets his head fall back on the cushion, and she can feel his thigh pressed up against hers.
It feels better, then. A little less…
Just less.
He doesn’t say anything, not for a long while. It’s only after they watch the fire destroy the whole family mansion in an unexpected and excruciating twist that she eventually speaks.
“It’s okay James - you can go back to the party, you don’t have to sit with me.” She wants him to, though. He’s warm - he’s always so warm. “I’m fine.”
Again, Erin feels more than sees him shrug. “I want to. I mean, for one, I can’t possibly miss the end of this masterpiece,” he points at the TV, and she smiles. There’s a little pause before he finishes, his tone a little different. “Plus, she was really pissing me off too, actually, so please don’t make me go back there.” She chuckles a little, even though it hurts again.
A couple of minutes pass, and Erin tries her best to focus on the images in front of her. This time, he’s the one who breaks the silence. “She was really out of line, you know - Clare’s still telling her off, actually.”
She knows he’s being nice, but she really wishes he’d stop. She can feel her bottom lip shaking again, and she just - she just wants to watch this stupid movie, and forget the whole thing. Forget everything, really - she just wants some quiet.
When she feels the slightest brush of his hand against hers, she doesn’t know if she’s more mad at him for staying and seeing her like that, or relieved that he won’t leave her alone. Not for the first time that night, tears start rolling down her cheeks.
Feck.
“She was wrong, Erin - don’t listen to her.” She snorts, drying her face with the arm that’s not touching his. “She was.” He sounds really mad now. James’ doesn’t get mad, not like this.
Finally turning her head to look back at him, she finds his green, dark eyes already looking at her.
He was the one that first told Michelle to shut it. She’d told him off, of course, but he’d insisted, and Clare had backed him up. It had started calmly enough, though.
Nothing had even started, in fact - not really. It was just another night of studying at her house during which Michelle, inevitably bored, inevitably started telling them about that new fella she was seeing. Of course, it had gotten really graphic, really fast, Orla’s eyebrows furrowing even further with each word as Clare started to look green. At one point, Erin eventually told her to cut it out.
The shift of Michelle’s attention from her story to her personal case hadn’t been a welcomed one.
“I’m serious, Erin - you’ve got to get on with it,” she’d said. “It’s the new year: make that your number one resolution or something, because we’re dangerously approaching tragedy at this point.”
She didn’t know why it didn’t end there like it usually did, but it didn’t: she’d kept going on and all night long, and then again on the bus Friday morning, relentless about the fact that it was damn time Erin got herself a lad, or even a random fella to at least snog, because it was just inacceptable that at her age, she still didn’t have any move - or the slightest experience whatsoever, as she so gently put it.
(Ach, as if she didn’t already know that. As if she wasn’t aware of how pathetic she looked, most likely to all of Derry - as if that wasn’t exactly what had relentlessly run through her mind as she waited for John Paul to show up, all dolled up in that stupid dress.
No boy had even looked at her.)
“For the love of Christ, leave her alone, Michelle!,” James had all but growled this morning as his cousin kept going.
“Yes - and Erin, don’t listen to her. Why are you even teasing her and not us, anyway? I’ve never had a kiss or a date - neither did Orla.”
“Yes, but Orla’s Orla - ”
“Do ye think birds sleep?”
“- and you’re a lesbian, Clare: much more complicated for you. She, however, has no excuse.”
Erin had left the room and headed to the bathroom then, trying to convince herself that Michelle’s words didn’t bug her this much. That they didn’t hit right where it hurt, and that she didn’t feel like shite.
She does.
And now here she is, watching TV with a sleeping seventy year-old man on a Saturday instead of knacking some drinks and enjoying Clare’s family party as they’d planned, feeling like her tears might fall at any moment, the last of Michelle’s jabs delivered an hour ago a little too hurtful to pretend like everything’s okay.
“Hey.”
His voice brings her back to reality, and she looks back at him and the small, gentle smile he has on his face. “Forget it, okay? You’re great, Erin. Any boy would be lucky to have you.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, well, as Michelle so pertinently pointed out, they’re not exactly lining up, are they.”
“You mean in our all girl Catholic school?”
She gives him what’s meant to be a half amused, half reprimanding look at that, but he’s not laughing. Quite the contrary, actually.
“I mean it, Erin. I don’t know when it will happen, if it’ll be here, or in college, but - I do know that you’ll find someone that you actually like soon, someone who actually realizes what he has instead of pricks like David Donnelly and John Paul.”
It’s so strange, seeing him this worked up. But his face softens then, and somehow, it helps the knots in her stomach unfold a little.
He bumps her shoulder a little, and she answers his smile. “And until then, you shouldn’t rush into kissing or dating the first fella who comes around just because my brainless cousin has decided there’s a deadline for stuff like that - believe me.”
“Regretting Katya then?”
As predicted, he groans with a roll of his eyes dramatic enough to put her to shame, and despite the tears still in her eyes, Erin laughs.
“Every chance you get, huh? Well, believe it or not, Katya was actually not my first kiss.” She - Oh.
He grins. “Yeah.” Then, his wee face is back to soft again, and he hesitates a little before meeting her eyes again. When he does, his are laughing, and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. “I’m glad you stopped me that night though. You were right.”
“About the fact that she was mental?”
He shakes his head, amused, and his curls go all bouncy. “No, about the fact that it’s better to wait - do it with someone you care about. I’m glad I did.”
Aye. Well, she’s glad to - Katya really was mental.
Her tummy feels a bit weird, but then James’ getting up and extending his hand to help her do the same.
“Come on: my aunt and uncle aren’t home tonight, let’s go watch a real movie.”
“What about the girls?”
“Well, Orla’s very busy enjoying the chocolate fountain yet again, Michelle is getting drunk and flirting with Clare’s second cousin, and Clare herself is actually talking to her very interested looking neighbor.”
Erin grins. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. Don’t worry, they won’t miss us.”
And so she wraps her fingers around his, and, grabbing their jackets on their way, Erin follows him out.
They’re barely out the door and still laughing at the way a very inebriated Mrs Devlin nearly fell on them when a voice raises behind them on the street.
“James, is that you?”
They both turn to see a girl about their age walk towards them, a box in her hand and her grinning face illuminated by the outside lights of the houses.
She’s pretty - really pretty.
“Oh my God, it is you!”
Erin turns to him just in time to see recognition materialize on his face. “Emily! Right, of course - what the hell are you doing here?”
They talk for a couple of minutes, both surprised at what Erin admits to be a pretty crazy coincidence. When they part, Emily’s nice smile still glowing, James quickly explains a bit more when he knows her from (school, kind of) - and then, inevitably and passionately starts listing their film options for the night.
Aye, but that boy loves his movies.
January 18th, 1996
They get detention again.
Of course, her Ma blows it all out of proportion and makes it into a big thing, when really, it isn’t their fault. Well, not completely, anyway. As a consequence, her and Orla see their chores multiply by two for a month, but at least they don’t get their TV privileges revoked like Michelle and James. Clare’s banned from hanging out with them for two weeks all together.
Other than that, though, things are good. Jenny has a new fringe and it looks awful, which doesn’t waste anything. Even her grades are going up, which she doesn’t see coming - not that fast, anyway. James’ a great teacher though - much, much better than Sister Philips (when he explains it, math actually makes sense, which is really new to her). He’s been helping her with physics, too, and if he wasn’t Ma’s favorite before (he definitely was), that would have done the trick.
“Is the wee English fella not having tea with us tonight?” Granda asks as Erin pulls up her chair and sits.
“He couldn’t make it for tutoring tonight Granda. He’ll be coming tomorrow instead - he asked if that was okay.”
“Of course it is: you know he’s welcome any day, love.”
“Aye, he’s a good kid so he is.” Erin smiles. She likes that they all like him so much.
As she takes the potatoes from Orla, she feels a bit weird about him not being here, too. It really is nice, having him over.
Before she can linger on that thought though, her Da asks about that new song she likes, and Erin starts rambling about it with an excited smile despite the roll of her Ma’s eyes at the other side of the table.
January 24th, 1996
“Is that girl trying to ride James?”
They all turn around in one perfect, swift motion that could not have been more coordinated if they’d tried.
The pub is packed, and they have to kind of twist and raise up on their chairs and bench to see where Michelle just pointed with her beer, but sure enough, leaning against the bar, James’ laughing at something a very close, very pretty girl has apparently just said to him.
Next to Michelle, Orla tilts her head to the side. “Does James have a new friend now?”, and his cousin snickers.
“Given the way she’s pointing her tits at him Orla, I don’t think it’s her friend she wants to be.”
Erin feels like a stone drops in her stomach.
“Who is that?” Clare frowns as they all sit back. “She looks familiar.”
“Isn’t it Cilian’s sister?”
“Do ye think so?"
“Aye, I’m fairly certain it’s her, yeah. Feck it but dicko’s really on a strike these days, isn’t he,” she chuckles, downing another gulp of her beer.
“What do you mean?” The alcohol and heat make Erin’s voice a little shakier than she would have liked, but nobody seems to notice.
“Didn’t I tell you yet? Little Jamesie’s all grown up now: he got a dirty call a couple of days ago.”
He -
“What?”
It’s a good thing the pub’s so loud, or Clare’s high pitched voice would certainly have turned all heads to their tables. Not that it’s unjustified, really.
“Well, it wasn’t actually a call, since we don’t have a phone anymore and all that. And it wasn’t dirty either I suppose - but that girl definitely wants to ride him as well.”
“What happened?”
As soon as she asks the question though, Erin’s not so sure she wants the answer anymore. Michelle’s enthusiasm doesn’t leave her any time to dwell on it though - not on that, or on the way her tummy’s twisting in a sort of a painful way.
God but she had too much to drink.
Much more resistant than her, Michelle takes another sip of her beer, and smirks. “Apparently, it was a girl he knows from England that’s going to live here now I suppose - he bumped into her at your Granny’s party Clare actually. Aye Erin, you left with him that night - you saw her, right?”
Of course. The pretty girl with a nice smile.
“Um - yeah.”
“Well, as you’ve seen, and I’m shocked to even say it really, but - massive, massive ride. Anyway, that girl comes knocking at the door, and she asks for James and starts about how she asked around for his address because how crazy is it that they’re both here now, and she doesn’t have many friends yet, and she’d love to hang out with him.”
“Well, that’s charming: knocking at his door to tell him she doesn’t have anyone else to hang out with so she might as well hang out with him.” Her cheeks feel a little hot now. She’s - mad, she realizes.
But really, is that any way to talk to a fella, let alone a sweet one like him?
Michelle just waves her off, apparently not offended at all on her cousin’s behalf. “Don’t you worry about that Erin, she wants to see him alright. I’m telling you, I watched the whole thing from the kitchen, and all the signs were there: the hair flips, the eyes, the laughing - oh, and yeah, the grabbing of the arm too.”
As she says that, her eyes stare past their heads and behind them and indeed, they turn to see Cilian’s sister's hand on his forearm - and then, running up his shoulder.
“Well, I hope it works out,” Clare pipes up enthusiastically, cheeks bright pink from the alcohol and heat. “James deserves to have someone.”
“He has us.”
“You know what I mean, Erin - a girlfriend. Plus, I think it’s all quite romantic actually - the kind of meetings that make for a really nice story.”
Erin rolls her eyes. “We’re in a sweaty pub, Clare - it’s hardly romantic.”
“No, I meant the other girl - the one from England? I just think it’s lovely, finding each other again like that against all odds, far from home - kind of like destiny.”
Her burp kind of takes all the wonderful out of the picture she’s trying to paint, but it doesn't seem to bother her. “That’s definitely a meet cute. You know, the cute way the boy meets the girl in the movies?”
“Aye but it is yeah. I vote for that girl too then,” Orla chimes in.
“Well, her or that one, in either case, it’s impressive. I’m actually proud of the wee fecker - good for him. Although I am still struggling to understand it, if I’m honest. I mean, has the prick turned into a ride or something? What’s with all the attention all of the sudden?”
Again, they all turn towards the bar, Clare spilling her beer all over Erin’s lap as she tries to sip and analyze their friend from afar, head tilted to the side. “I don’t know…”
In fairness, he has.
He’d always had pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile, and then he got that haircut that made his curls even more enticing. He'd grown into his body, too, his shoulders broader, his frame just a little bit taller. The roundness of the boy has all but completely disappeared from his face now, leaving his jaw sharper, turning him into…well, into a proper lad, really.
He is a ride.
Do they really not see that?
Before any of them can argue one way or the other though, the object of their conversation spots them, eyes confused then dangerous, and they all swing back on their chairs, pretending and falling that they’d not been full-on stalking him.
Well. Most of them.
“Way to go, dicko,” Michelle all but yells, one thumb and one beer up.”Didn’t think you had it in ye!”
January 30th, 1996
It hits her on Orla's birthday.
Well, at the end of Orla’s birthday sleepover, to be precise. She doesn't know how she doesn't see it coming, but - she really doesn't.
It’s a school day, so to celebrate, their Mas at least authorize all of them to stay over at Erin’s with no bedtime (“If I hear anything about one of yous dozing off in school tomorrow, help me Jesus wains, there’ll be tears.”). It's a nice day, really: Orla has the time of her life, running all over school with her birthday girl crown on her head, and when they get home, she zooms in the small fountain of chocolate that Mammy has prepared for the occasion. Dinner is nice as well, all of them squeezed at their small table that Erin realizes is currently hosting all the people that she loves most in this world. Of course, when Michelle asks her why she’s smiling like an idiot, she can’t say - but it’s nice.
There’s the cake, the opening (ripping, really) of the gifts and then, true to their words, all the adults leave them be. In terms of taking full advantage of that special “all on their own, all night” treat though? They could have probably done better.
Much, much better.
When she wakes up, it takes Erin a minute to understand where she is. The TV is still on, the only other light coming from the hall, making it a little difficult to see at first.
It’s barely an embarrassing twelve thirty, and if the long ended credits on the screen are any indication, they’ve been snoring for at least one hour, exhausted by their day of school, the one hour long, surprisingly intense aerobics session the birthday girl insisted they do, and the tons of delicious food that had probably been the final nail in their coffins.
Sometimes, she thinks that maybe those mouths at school aren’t that wrong, when they say their band is far from being the coolest.
It was a fun night, though, and Orla was happy. That’s what matters.
Michelle’s still on Granda’s chair, legs on one side and open mouth on the other in a position that her back will surely regret in the morning. Orla’s spread like a starfish on the carpet, wrapping paper still in one hand. Clare’s on a ball at the other end of the couch, legs folded into herself. Erin’s at the other end, and, initially seated between both of them, James is now completely leaning against her, one arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder.
He looks so peaceful, when he sleeps, that slight concern mixed with doubt he always wears on his face completely gone. Beautiful, really. His lips are slightly parted, and a couple of curls fall on his forehead. Erin feels the sudden urge to brush them away, so she does.
Slowly lifting the hand that’s been resting on his arm not to wake him, she tries to move one with her finger. Smiles sleepily when it immediately drops back where it was. She remembers being so pissed at the restaurant that day, when Katya kept threading her fingers in his curls, her whole body turned towards him. She can’t really blame the girl though: they’re really, really soft.
There’s warmth in her chest, so much so that she feels like her heart is melting a little, and in her stomach, it feels like the thing that’s been twisting more and more lately wakes again. In a nice way, through. A real nice way.
Clare suddenly moves in her sleep, grumbling something she can’t quite make out, effectively sending her foot in James’ back. An annoyed frown creases his features for a second, and then he’s moving even closer to her, his face all but buried in her neck at that point.
He smells good. Comforting, safe, and just - really, really good. Her heart flutters.
And that's when it dawns on her.
Vaguely aware that she’s stopped breathing, Erin looks back at his arm around her. At him. She can feel his breath on her skin now, and it’s just -
James. Seated in the couch that has seen her grow up, the slight snore of her cousin coming from the floor, Erin realizes that she’s...falling for James.
Not falling, really. If the treacherous thing in her chest and her barely functioning mind are any indication, she’s already fallen pretty hard, pretty deep, now on the bottom of the pit looking up.
Oh. Oh.
Well.
Shite.
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street lights, people
A/N: In the biker AU I learned about through the amazing @maybege‘s Biker!Paz and Biker!Boba upcoming stories, I created a pediatrician!reader who falls in love (eventually, I’m talking a few parts here) with Biker!Fennec Shand. I use as much gender neutral language as possible, but reader is AFAB and uses she/they pronouns. Also hi, May! it’s me that anon who dropped by a couple times. I hope you all enjoy this, I'm sorry there isn’t more Fennec/peds!reader interaction, but I will have more in the future I promise!
P.s: let’s all suspend our disbelief when it comes to the judge doing strange things, had to have conflict somewhere
Summary: When the local pediatrician has to go to a hearing for one of her patients, she stumbles across Fennec Shand, the head of the local chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse (BACA).
Rating: T for now, E in the future (possibly)
Warnings: References to past child abuse, domestic violence, NO descriptions of the actual acts
Chapter One: January 8th
“Okay, Seb. You look good, I don’t see any reason why you can’t go back to school on Monday.”
“Really, Doc? I can’t even stay out one more week?”
“Sorry, bud. I know another week of winter break would be nice, but you gotta go back to the real world. Sucks, but I got told nope too when I asked for Monday off.”
“Fiiiiiine I’ll go back.”
“Good, good. Mom, how are we feeling today?”
“Much better, things have been stable at home but I’m nervous that something is going to happen tonight.”
“Do you have BACA’s contact? If not, I can get Max to give it to you when you check out. They can swing by tonight after the hearing to make sure nothing happens to you and Seb.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Do you think they would mind?”
“From what I’ve seen, they won’t mind at all. When I was in residency, there was a kiddo that the chapter there took day and night shifts for three weeks while the father was out on bail while the trial happened. If a kid needs it, they’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you, for everything. Will we see you this afternoon?”
“For sure, I’ve got to get all my notes signed then I’ll be heading over there.”
“Doc, will you sit with me after you’re finished?”
“Of course, Seb. Do you want me to bring anything with me?”
“Do you have any of those peanut butter cookies?”
“Seb! She’s a busy person!”
“It’s okay, and yes I do. I made them last night just in case you might want some today.” You smiled at him and he beamed back. “Okay you two, head on out and Max will take care of you. I’ll see you over there.”
Seb bounced out of the room, his mom following behind them.
You shook your head and headed out of the exam room and into your office, closing the door behind you. You unlocked your computer and pulled up his chart, finished typing up the note you had started that morning before he arrived. You read and reread the note, making sure it was as accurate and representative of Seb’s course since discharge from the hospital as you could make it without having seen him every day. Finally satisfied, you signed it and called CPS to make sure they knew it was done.
You leaned back in the black leather chair, pondering how much of your credibility you would lose if you showed up in the Winnie the Pooh dress you had worn because of the proportion of toddlers on the schedule that morning. You sighed and pushed yourself up and toward the hook on the door to your office and pulled down the suit that lived there. It was plain black but tailored perfectly. You cut an imposing picture when you paired it with the sharp white button down and simple black pumps that you wore when you needed a confidence boost. You slid the pants on, and ditched the dress before buttoning up the shirt and tucking it in. You put the jacket on, then your boots. The pumps would have to wait until you got to the courthouse, seeing as they were currently sitting on the passenger seat of your car. You gathered your things and made sure the computer was locked again before clicking off the lights and shutting the door behind you.
You stopped at the front desk where Max handed you the sealed manilla envelope that held the morning’s note before they went to lunch. You grabbed your overcoat, the soft wool soothing under your fingertips as you put it on over your suit. It had started to snow while you were in clinic, coating everything with fresh white powder. You would be more excited about it if you weren’t about to go have a hand in deciding a young kid’s fate. You shivered as you turned on the seat warmer and let the car warm up while you plugged your phone in and got your seatbelt on. You pulled out of the spot and onto the highway.
***
You sat for a moment more, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths, counting in and out. Satisfied, you made sure the document was in your briefcase before putting on your dress shoes and getting out. You stepped carefully, not wanting to show up wet and shivering from the snow. You smiled when you saw the few bikes parked outside the courthouse. You knew BACA had been working with Seb and his family as long as you knew him, but this was the first time you had been to the courthouse for a hearing.
You almost made it inside but skidded on a small patch of ice a few feet from the door. You would have fallen, but a couple of strong arms grabbed and steadied you.
“Whoa, there! I would ask where the non-skid footwear is but the more important thing, are you okay?”
You looked at the woman who had caught you, struck dumb for a moment. She was wearing a leather jacket with a charcoal grey wool sweater underneath. Her hair was pulled into a braid that disappeared down her back and she was wearing a smirk that made you blush.
“Sorry about that. I almost made it too, ugh! Yeah, I’m fine. I remembered too late that my boots don’t fit in my briefcase so had to risk it. Thanks for saving me.”
She kept one hand on your midback as you walked through the door.
“It’s no problem, just maybe wear the boots next time.” She let you go as you got past the mats that kept the floors from being too slippery. You nodded in response and walked to the stairs that led up to the courtrooms. You steadied your breathing as you walked up the marble. You pushed the door and stepped inside, sitting just behind Seb and his mom.
***
“… and plan for follow up in four weeks, or sooner if needed.” You finished reading the note.
“Thank you, doctor. You may step down. We will reconvene after a fifteen-minute recess.” The judged banged the gavel once and left for their chambers.
You made it down the step in one piece and headed for the door, grabbing your briefcase as you went. You wanted a drink of water and needed to give Seb his cookies before he had to go back inside. You grabbed your briefcase and sat down on the bench with Seb. His mom was a few feet away, whispering to the lawyer and social worker on the case. She looked worried.
“How’re you feeling, kiddo?” You pulled a water bottle and the baggie of cookies out, handing them to Seb before getting out your own water.
“I’m okay, I think.” He took a sip of water. “Mom’s worried, she won’t say anything to me, but I know she is.”
“She’s your mom and doesn’t have control over this outcome. That’s enough to make anyone worry. Are you worried?”
“I don’t know, a little. This time it was really bad, and I know we’ve got plans for leaving but it just hasn’t happened yet. I think something happened, but I don’t know. I don’t want to leave.”
“It’s okay to be worried, whatever happens, you two will take it in stride. You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”
“Thanks, Doc. And thanks for the cookies, I know mom wasn’t happy I asked about them but I’m really glad you made them.”
“No problem, Seb.” You took the cookie he offered and savored it, wondering what the new judge was going to say. They were new to the town, new to the case. You just hoped they would be fair.
***
You walked out of the marble building with a silent Seb and mom beside you. 30 days. They had 30 days to find a way out of that house or Seb would be sent to live with his grandparents two counties away and barred from seeing his mom until she was out of the house. You could have sworn you heard disgust when you heard the judge reference Seb’s mom. But the gavel had fallen and now there was an due date on the plan.
***
You considered yourself lucky that you had avoided any more stumbles between your car and the door of the pub. You swirled the whiskey in your glass and took a sip, savoring the flavors that washed over your tongue. You didn’t usually come here, but as you started to drive home, you found your mind running around and around the afternoon’s events and you couldn’t make them stop.
Unknown to you, Fennec was sitting in the same pub, watching you. She took a sip of the beer she had been nursing for the last thirty minutes since you walked in.
“I’m just glad she’s got her boots on,” she mumbled to Boba.
“Would you just go talk to her? You haven’t stopped staring or shut up about her since she walked in.” He was nothing if not an effective wingman.
“I don’t know, will she think I’m following her? She’s some new in town lawyer type that probably doesn’t go for that.”
“Shand, if you don’t go make a move, I’m going to go point you out to her myself.” Boba had done it before.
“Fine, fine.” She scooched out of the booth, leather jacket squeaking against the vinyl as she got up. She tugged at the sleeves as she sidled up to the opposite end from where you were.
“Another one, Fennec?”
“No, I want to buy her next round.” She nodded in your direction, wondering what it would be.
“Sure thing.” The bartender side stepped away out of Fennec’s line of sight and filled a glass with ice and club soda. He finished it with a slice of lime before setting it down in front of you.
“What’s this?” You looked up with your brow wrinkled.
“Lady with the braid over there wanted to buy your next round but I remembered what you told me last time someone wanted to do that.”
“Oh, thanks.” You looked in her direction, meeting her gaze. You gave a small wave to thank her and she disappeared into the growing crowd. You went back to your drink and finished the whiskey off. You felt a familiar hand on your midback as she sat on the stool next to yours.
“Good to see you’ve got appropriate footwear on.” There was her smirk again.
“Well, they just go so much better with a suit and slush,” you quipped at her. “I don’t make it a habit of falling into the arms of strangers, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure, I’m just glad they were mine.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly. “And I’m also glad you accepted…whatever the hell that is. I’m Fennec by the way.”
“Inside joke with the bartender.” You winked at her before giving her your name.
“How have you been in town long enough to have inside jokes with Karga?”
“I’ve lived here two and a half years, that’s plenty of time, don’t you think?” It was her turn to wrinkle her brow. “What, didn’t think I knew what winter was or something?”
“I—I don’t know. I thought—two and a half years and you didn’t know the steps ice over?”
“First time going in the winter, usually I give my depositions in a conference room in the office building around the corner from the courthouse.”
“Dep—you’re not a lawyer?” You pressed your lips together as you suppressed a laugh. “From how you walked away from me I thought you were about to put away a murderer or something.”
“No, I’m a pediatrician. I work with CPS and do advocacy work for my kiddos in bad situations. This was the first time a judge actually wanted me to read my note into the record at a hearing, something about they wanted to make a decision today and didn’t want to wait on me.”
“Wait, you were there for Seb?” She set her hand on your forearm. “How did I not know? BACA is supposed to know all the people coming in for a case.”
“Not sure.” You took a sip of the club soda. “I didn’t even know I was going to be there until three days ago when I got a call.”
“Huh. Well, I have to say I’m glad you were there, even though the circumstances weren’t ideal.” Her thigh bumped yours and her hand came up to brush your hair out of your face. “And while I don’t think you should wear those shoes outside again, I’m happy I was there to catch you.”
“Me too.” You let out a small huff of laughter. “BACA head, yeah?”
“Yeah, just appointed a few months ago after the last guy retired.”
“I like women in powerful roles.” You held her gaze and you let your knee bump hers this time.
“Bye, Shand. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Fennec could hear Boba laughing as he strode out of the pub after clapping her on the shoulder. Wingman indeed, you were looking at your drink again.
“Hey, don’t mind him. He can be a dick sometimes, but he means well.” She rested a hand on your shoulder as you turned to face her fully. You tilted your head and you held eye contact for a moment.
“It’s okay, we’ve all got those friends, mine just happen to be working tonight.” You chanced a glance at your watch. “Which, I actually need to leave soon. I have to be at the hospital early in the morning to round or the residents will have my head. I would go tonight, but the whiskey and the afternoon in court make that a no go.”
Fennec rested a hand on your knee while she reached for a napkin and the pen you had signed the bill with. She scribbled something and folded it before tucking it into the pocket on your suit jacket.
“Text me when you get home.” She slid off the stool and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “See you around, Doc.”
#fennec shand#Fennec Shand x reader#the mandalorian fan fiction#wlw fanfic#sw fanfic#Star Wars fan fiction#biker AU#biker!Fennec
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Hiii!!! I just finished reading your Snapshots fic on ao3 and they're all amazing!!! I love how you write the family dynamics between the kids and wanda/vision, they're all vv sweet and I'm here for it!! Do u think tommy and billy ever did a parent trap kind of switch for some reason?
Thank you so much! 😁 This was a fun ask and I hope you enjoy!
***
The sizzle of butter in the skillet provides a lively accompaniment to Wanda’s aggravation about the morning’s latest headline - one claiming that Tony Stark was personally responsible for the matchmaking that brought Vision and his lovely, currently scarlet eyed, wife together. It’s a claim not without some merit, if not for Tony’s involvement in Ultron’s creation and then in Vision’s own birth, he never would have been alive to fall so deeply in love with Wanda; however, as with most claims involving Tony it is also inherently hyperbolic. Had the billionaire actually been involved in Vision’s romantic pursuits, there is a very high probability that Wanda would have run the other direction.
“And you know what else it said?”
Vision scoops the pancake batter carefully into the buttered skillet as he responds, “What?”
“That he’s the reason Billy and Tommy want to be Avengers.” The only reason Wanda’s tea does not spill over the edge as she gesticulates out her anger is because she has wrapped it in a sheen of red. “Him!”
Grandiose sense of self worth is a rather glaring fault in the Stark family, a symptom Vision thankfully bypassed, no doubt due to the humble yet confident influence of Dr. Cho. “It is an unfair and misleading statement,” this diffuses her ire enough for her to take a sip of tea, “all that truly matters,” momentarily he turns from the stove to wrap his fingers around her upper arms and stare intently into her eyes, “is that we continue encouraging our sons to be their best selves, even if our work is never publicly acknowledged.”
Finally her face softens, the disdain etched into the lines of her forehead smoothing out with the roll of her eyes, “Fine.” Vision lays a peck to her forehead before turning back to rescue the almost burnt pancakes, “but wouldn’t it be nice if someone praised us for once?”
“It would.”
“Morning mom, dad.”
“Good morning Bil…” Vision’s mouth stops mid-greeting, brain a bit frenzied at the mixed signals he is receiving. The voice that just greeted him registers as Billy and yet the boy in front of him is sporting Tommy’s signature snowy hair and athletic clothing. “Um…”
“Tommy,” Wanda’s acknowledgement of their son should clarify everything, yet he can sense an odd amusement in the way she says the name, “why don’t you sit down, your father’s almost done with breakfast.”
To further add to the confusion of the moment, Tommy merely flashes them a grin (no snarky comment nor demands for it to cook faster) and then slides into Billy’s seat at the table.
Wanda’s hand comes to rest on Vision’s back, her voice low and a bit giddy, “This is going to be entertaining.”
“What is?”
“Just wait…” No further information is provided other than a wink.
Vision attempts to shove his curiosity and need to ask for more clarity down, instead channeling all of his energy into the pancakes and not burning them. Success at this repression endeavor is fleeting, the moment he turns to put the plate on the table, he cannot help but ask a question. “Where is your brother?” A glance up confirms it is three minutes past their usual breakfast time. Billy, like Vision, believes in punctuality and that being five minutes early is on time and being on time is late. For him to be late by normative standards is concerning. “It is unlike him to be late.”
Tommy chokes on his orange juice, eyes a tad wild as he twists around to look at the clock. “Um, I’ll go-“
“Good morning everyone!” Billy waltzes in with a cheery grin, his overall presence gregarious and brash, neither a word typically associated with him. His unusual mood is highlighted all the more by the uncharacteristically sloppy way his sweater is buttoned. “I’m famished.” A sentiment rarely shared by Billy.
Vision is torn between staring at his sons and seeking out Wanda’s reaction to whatever is happening in their kitchen. “Tommy,” his brother's name is overly enunciated, and the question, “Why are you in my seat?” asked with annoyance.
“Oh, sorry,” Tommy apologizes quickly, a first for sure, and then slides over to his normal chair.
This is, for want of a better word, weird.
Wanda, somehow, is making everyday small talk with their sons but Vision doesn’t process what is said, too focused on studying his children and the bevy of possibilities for why they seem so off. The initial fear is that they are Skrulls or some other shape shifting creature, a possibility they have sadly lived through before, not with the boys but on a mission with the Avengers. A vitals and physiology scan disconfirms this hypothesis (thankfully), the two bodies across the table are his sons. Despite this Tommy is eating at a snail’s pace, knife and fork working with precise movements to portion out perfect sized bites while Billy is going fast and loose with his fork, each bite different from the last. It also seems like Billy’s hair is a slightly different shade than usual, a tinge of cinnamon in his typically chestnut hair. Perhaps they have wandered into the multiverse yet again, though Wanda is his Wanda, he is certain of that and she seems to be more amused than concerned. Which means there must be a logical explanation.
Vision decides perhaps listening to the conversation at the table will better aid him. “Are you ready for the big math test today?” This is directed at Tommy, a pre-algebra exam Vision has spent several nights helping him study for.
Contrary to the numerous breakdowns that informed Vision that his son was going to fail so why bother trying, this morning Tommy seems...optimistic. “Yeah, dad’s prepared me well,” and overtly gracious.
“And Billy,” Wanda nudges Vision’s foot as she talks, always a sign he needs to get out of his head and pay attention, “today’s the mile run in gym, right?”
“Yep,” Billy answers while shoving a pancake into his mouth, continuing to talk while he chews, “gonna beat my record for sure.” This comment, and the smarmy confidence behind it, sets a new hypothesis into motion.
Vision runs a second vitals scan, this time focusing on heart rate and brain waves. The results are surprising yet informative, but just to be sure, he recalibrates his sensors, scans again, and re-analyzes it, not wanting to make an erroneous conclusion if his sensors were off. The results match his last scan and the oddities suddenly make sense. Finally figured it out? He turns towards Wanda, her face set with impish victory typically reserved for when she bests him at training. A dip of his chin affirms her telepathic comment though his own mood is nowhere near as bubbly as hers because despite knowing the truth now, it does not actually alleviate any of his concern, in fact it breeds several other pathways of uncertainty. Follow my lead.
The devious undertone of his wife’s comment transforms into an innocent smile as she addresses their sons. “Well boys,” both of their sons look up, “since it’s such a big day, we should celebrate later.” A shared look occurs between Billy and Tommy, one that Vision can’t quite label appropriately, a mix of excitement, bafflement, and victory.
‘Billy’ prods for more, his fork tapping the plate at roughly 200 clinks per minute. “Like what?”
Wanda is so natural at uncovering their lies that Vision can only sit back in awe at the way she effortlessly teases out the truth, “I need to meet with Strange later today, so Billy you can come along and we can ask if he’s finally willing to start training you to be a sorcerer.”
The current Tommy stares mouth agape at the offer, while the current Billy seems unimpressed, “Oh, um yeah, that’d be cool.”
“And Tommy,” Wanda reaches out to grab Vision’s hand, a gesture that is blissfully common but is right now no doubt meant to really drive home the offer, “Your father was going to do some speed trials this afternoon, maybe he can call the school so you can leave a period early and join him.” Vision was not going to do this but he withholds that knowledge so he doesn’t hinder his wife’s plan.
Tommy and Billy turn towards each other, no verbal words exchanged but Vision can easily recognize one of their telepathic conversations—bodies tense, their faces fluttering through a range of emotions, and eyebrows moving in emphasis of whatever comments they’re making. They break and ‘Tommy’ addresses the offer, “Billy has gym in 8th period.”
“Which is why he and I are going to meet with Stephen after school.” Wanda takes a deliberately long sip of her tea to let the information really settle in.
Their tactics switch to the other offer.“Isn’t uh truancy a pretty big deal, you know, if I,” ‘Billy’ catches himself, “Tommy were to leave early.
Vision decides he should aid in some way, voice matter of fact as he responds, “I do believe Tommy has a free period at that time. Plus,” thankfully this next part is not a lie or else Vision would feel guilty saying it, “I have to attend the PTA meeting tonight so we cannot wait until school is out if we would like to get a full session of training in.”
Another deep, very animated mental conversation occurs across the table, one that leads to an exaggerated roll of his wife’s eyes. “What if…”
Wanda cuts off the next suggestion, clearly done with the game, “Just accept that you’ve been caught.”
The two faces across from them are polar opposite, one shining with defiance and the other defeat. With a sigh, Tommy’s white hair darkens into chestnut, the real Billy slouching deep into his chair. His brother is not amused, “Are you really breaking that easily?”
Vision checks the time, noting their bus will arrive in less than 10 minutes. “Boys,” there are several things he wants to say, from questioning Tommy’s brown hair to why they thought they’d get away with it, but he decides those can wait, “perhaps instead of our planned celebrations tonight, we have a discussion on the harms of deception.”
Tommy, the real one, executes a perfect Maximoff eye roll, never one to appreciate the life lesson evenings that correspond with poor behavior. “It was just a joke.”
“I do not find it humorous.” And Vision does not, a deep despair blossoming in his chest at what his sons have attempted and what it means for how their sons view them, whether they think they are not loved enough nor noticed enough to be recognized by their own parents. “You intended to utilize this...joke for personal gain.”
Wanda cuts in, hand coming to rest on Vision’s thigh with a light, reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t you both change. The bus will be here soon. We’ll talk more tonight.” Muttered yes, mom s are lost in the scraping of their chairs against the wooden floor. “Tommy.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you dye your hair?”
“Yep,” Tommy runs his hand through his darkened locks, “the box called it chili chocolate.”
Wanda smirks, finding this far more endearing than Vision. “Just promise to use it responsibly.”
A not fully convincing salute goes along with Tommy’s, “Roger that,” and then he runs off in a blur.
“Wanda,” Vision waits until she looks at him, a bit unnerved that she does not seem to show any of the same concern for what just happened. “Are you not troubled at their flagrant disregard for honesty?”
Her eyebrows arch up, lips pursed the way they are whenever he has misassessed human nature and she needs to find a way to gently talk him through it. “It’s kind of a twin rite of passage.”
This is not forthcoming nor satisfying. “Did you and Pietro do this as well?”
“Once or twice.” His confusion must be evident, her lips curving up into a reminiscent mischief. “We weren’t good at it, especially once we were older. But you have to try.”
“Do you?”
A nod confirms the apparent necessity of such an experiment, though no further explanation is provided for Vision to comprehend why it is required. “You’ve never seen the Parent Trap, have you?”
“I have not.”
Scarlet energy entangles itself around the dishes at the table, floating them into the sink and away from their responsibility for now. “Come on,” Wanda stands and tugs on Vision’s hand, drawing him up out of his seat and then leading him into the living room. As she lightly pushes him to sit in the couch, a rush of feet, a banging door and a quick bye! marks the start of the school day, leaving them alone until this afternoon. “Want to watch a movie?”
“I suppose,” he wraps his arm around her shoulders after she sits next to him, pulling her closer and relishing the comfort of her head on his chest, “if it provides adequate research to understanding this cultural necessity of deceit, then yes.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Vision considers the comment a touch longer than needed, just enough for her to look up at him in anticipation, “if it means a day spent with you,” he kisses her deeply, mirroring the soft curve of her lips as he pulls away,”then it is still a yes.”
“Good.” The tv turns on and his education begins.
#Scarlet vision#wandavision#wanda jackson#vision#billy kaplan#tommy shepherd#the maximoffs#ask anon#replies#mine
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Pause for a thought
Have you ever met a person who seems to be so complex that it is difficult to fully understand him or her? What makes this person a complex character?
My answer for this question is yes. I have met a person that I find really hard to understand. I am referring to my childhood friend. We were best friends for ten years. We've been classmates since Kindergarten until 8th grade and schoolmates since 9th to 10th grade. Way back when we were so little, we used to play at the playground every after school and even in weekends, she and her mother visit our house to give us our happiness, playing with each other. As we grew up, I observed that something was wrong with her because she acts different when I try to mingle with other group of friends. Also, when she knew that I got a higher scores in quizzes or exams, she'll literally pinch or punch me and she'd ask me why do I have higher scores than her. She seemed to be so possesive because as what I have seen and as what I have experienced, I am the only friend of hers for the reason that she has this kind of attitude and behavior that she thought nobody else would understand but me. But even me, I am so confused of what's wrong with her. As we grew older and turned to a junior high schooler, her attitude and behavior towards me became worse because I tolerate her bad doings to me. She thought that even if she hurt me physically, I won't hurt her back or do some revenge. If she asked a favor, even if I did not said yes, she'd force me to such thing. I was so innocent and quiet way back then. I cannot say no to every favor that she asks because I'll end up hurt by her physically. Most of the time, she would look at herself in the mirror and she'd tell me that she is so pretty and that I am so ugly. I endured the pain that she gave me without her knowing that she was hurting me deep inside. I talked to my mother and I shared all of these things to her to make me feel better and get some good advice. And so, I prayed to God that maybe for just one time, He'll separate me from my childhood friend. I mean, maybe if He could put us in different sections, I would really be thankful for it. This prayer of mine was granted. I was so happy that we were put in different sections for two years. I thought that if we were not classmates anymore, my life would be peaceful. But our assigned classrooms were next to each other. So, even if we have different rooms, she'd come inside our classroom to find me because no one in her section would like to be her friend. Literally, all of her classmates don't like her. And I realized that she is really that hard to understand. When I was in 10th grade, I finally knew what made her have that kind of behavior and attitude towards the people around her. She needs to be treated well by her parents and she also needs attention from them. I've seen her before being scolded by her mother because of her little mistakes in the activities at school and sometimes her mother hurts her physically. And every single day, she'd tell me that she was scolded by her mother and sometimes she'd come crying because of the pain that she felt. The treatment that her parents give her makes her a complex character. And I think that the things that she did to me was a reflection of the treatment that was given to her. I kept the pain that she gave me for ten years but as that realization sinked in to my mind, I eventually accepted her and forgave her for all the things that she had done to me. I admit that I did not fully enjoy my life in all of those years that we were together because her words and actions towards me made my self-esteem and self-confidence very low. As we stepped into another challenge, entering a senior high school life, we've separated ways since we enrolled in different schools. I can tell that I had a fresh start at a new school and a new environment. This experience served as a lesson and a blessing to me because I learned a lot of things from it.
“Forgiveness” - Matthew West
As I listened to the music “Forgiveness” by Matthew West, I was happy that I chose to forgive my childhood friend for all the pain and sadnesss she caused me because my heart is not feeling heavy anymore. If I let my pride control me, I would have been carrying the burden inside me until now. Sometimes we tend to let our pride control us. But I realized that I would be happier if I let the negativities go away. I can apply this realization when there are people and some situations that will try to bring me down.
Blessed day!
Today, I have learned a lot of things from the recorded video that I watched and from the song that I listened to. I know that the things I've learned can bring changes into my life.
In the morning, while waiting for the recorded video to be posted, I scanned some test papers and answered some of its questions. I felt good as I did that thing. I wanted to learn to love reading because it is important for the future and for me to easily work on the progress to achieve my goals. At noontime, after I ate my lunch, I watched the recorded video and I was inspired by the lesson that was tackled because it gave me the idea to recall my past experiences and to remember the good things that I did to respond to those situations that let me down.
In the afternoon, I gave time for myself to relax and savor the peaceful moment that I have. After some time of relaxation, I red a book that can bring comfort and joy to my heart. I realized that knowledge of what you love somehow comes to you and if you love a thing, knowledge of it seeps into you.
I did some exercises and I explored to a place that I have not visited a long time ago.
Tonight, I am enjoying the weather because I love the sound of the rain that drops into the ground and into the roofs of houses. I had a great day! I'll try to read some part of a book tonight. Good night! 🌃
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11/11/11
I was tagged by @water-writings <3
1. Do you write fanfictions or original stories and did you ever write fanfiction?
I write (and always have written) both; I actually started writing fanfiction when I was like 10 years old, before I even knew what fanfiction was, and then later discovered that it was a whole thing. For quite a few years now fanfic has been my main thing, but I’ve got a few original things that I’m knuckling down on this year and really enjoying, so we’ll see.
2. Did you ever write your stories in the middle of class instead of paying attention?
Not in the middle of class really, but I did write like half a harry potter au fic sort of thing based off of some rp characters at the end of my year 11/12 exams. The exams were like 3 hours long each, and like, I’m not smart but I am pretty quick at theory stuff so I’d have 1.5-2 hours per exam to fill, and I would never use the note paper for notes. So I’d fold my note paper into 8ths and write reeeeeally really small and fill it all up during my extra exam time. (I still have the sheets of paper if anyone wants to see xD)
3. How many notebooks do you have filled with your writing?
Since somewhere in 2015, I have filled 25 notebooks; not including anything I wrote straight out on a computer, on my phone, on random pieces of paper, or in other notebooks that aren’t included in my numbering system, which I have lmao.
4. What’s your favorite way to write? Notebook, Word Doc, Google Docs?
By hand in notebooks. I used to write in a word doc, and I still use word to type up into and edit it, but I find writing by hand really pushes my word counts up, and forces me to do an initial edit when I type it up, especially with fanfic because I don’t draft fanfic.
5. Do you write by yourself or do you need people writing with you?
I’ve always written alone - most of my friends don’t even know that I write, or don’t write anymore themselves, so it’s just me and myself over here. I was in a writing club at school for a while, and we tried to do a couple projects together, but the group got off course way too easily and nothing really got done, so I prefer to be alone with something I’m really passionate about finishing.
6. Have you ever cowritten with someone?
When I was liiiiiike 12, my friend and I co-wrote a lot of Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic lmao, which to this day is one of my favourite writing memories. And I co-wrote an entire 50k ‘novel’ with my friend during middle school, which was actually pretty good fun - we traded off chapters and worked together on plot and worldbuilding and actually finished the whole thing. It was horrible (I can’t look at it anymore it’s so cringey), but a good experience to have. I’ve co-written with a few friends online too, with mixed results - nothing that’s ever really gone anywhere though.
7. Who do you bounce ideas off of?
No one lmao. I just throw them into the story and see if they work.
8. Have you ever taken an experience from your life and written it into a story?
Definitely! The most obvious example would probably be the series of short stories I’ve written and posted on this horse racing game I play, Flying For Home, which are sometimes drawn directly from stuff that happens around my workplace in real life, seeing as I work with racehorses in a big stable (the premise of the short stories lmao).
Another example I can think of is, funnily enough, my other horse-related project; a novel called Vertigo, for which I have drawn on a lot of my own personal history and people that I’ve met in my life and thrown it into the mixing pot. It’s a bit of a personal daydream tbh xD Other than those, there’s a little bit of myself in everything I write, I think, though it’s hard to pick out sometimes.
9. Favorite type of music to listen to while you write.
I usually don’t let myself listen to music when I write, but if I do, it’ll be the playlist I inevitably have for the story, turned down very quiet so that it fades into the background - usually just pop and alternative/indie sort of stuff.
10. Have you ever had anyone give you “advice” that hurt you and prevented you from writing for a while?
I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that stopped me from writing, and I’ve certainly never had criticism from outsiders/strangers or whatever (generally people just ignore me). But I do keep my mum at a distance from my writing, as she tends to just push and push me to ‘publish something already’ and gives off the mentality of ‘it’s not worth wasting your time on if it won’t make you money’. She uh...doesn’t know that I have published over 100k of fanfic this year. Lol. She’s only trying to be supportive, in her own way, and I appreciate it, but I just don’t mention it to her very often, because she’s never really ready to listen to my point of view on it.
11. Have you ever had fans of your writing pester to write a certain way?
I don’t have fans xD
And from @starsandstormyseas because you asked good questions and I Want To...
1. Have you ever had an idea that sounded really great in your head, but when you started writing it, came out terrible for whatever reason?
Yesssss, Flicker has gone through 9 versions in 2 years because every time I start it, it just goes very quickly in directions that I don’t want it to and it never feels right. This version I’m working on now is the first time I’ve really liked all the ways I could go with it so hopefully we’re past book 2 blues and back on track.
2. What’s your favorite part in writing a story? The relationships (or shipping), the plot, the worldbuilding, something else?
The like, ‘main’ scenes, the big hitters. The culmination of all the middle bits into that one main plot point. And relationships too, though not romantic persay - I just really enjoy the scenes where two characters will bounce off of each other for like 7 pages of dialogue, whether its enemies, or friends, or romantic.
3. And weird habits you do when writing, or to keep yourself writing?
I write by hand mostly, and I have my own system to mark as I’m going sentences I don’t like, or words that don’t really fit but I couldn’t think of the right one, or facts I’ve made up on the fly that need to be googled. If I just mark down stuff that I want to change later as I go, I find that I set myself free in a way, and I can just move on without getting stuck on a google spiral (also I don’t forget to fix my plot holes later).
4. Do you keep the internet on or off when you write?
On, though it’s very distracting when I’m trying to write straight on my laptop lmao
5. What books, authors, fics, or any media, have heavily influenced your writing style?
I spent a lot of my childhood reading Enid Blyton and authors like her; older books, mostly my mum’s books from when she was a child, and things from my hometown’s very, very outdated library. So they had a huge impact on the way I learnt to write (they also had an impact on the way I talk too, but that’s another story). More recently, the whole tone and way that fanfic in general is written has really influenced me, and I’d like to think I’ve adopted it and made it my own in a good way.
6. What time is the best time to write? Day, night? Morning, evening?
Evening/night; some days, I cannot focus until like 8pm when I go to bed. And then I lose sleep because I’m writing but y’know. For editing/typing up, that’s a late afternoon kind of job.
7. Is there anyone IRL that you let read your work?
I have a group of friends that I’ve known for 8 years now that are allowed to read my work. We used to rp together and all used to write and so we all know how bad we were back in the day xD. One girl from that group has been my friend since kindergarten, so she has always had me shoving handfuls of words in her face. There’s been a few other friends that have read some of my stuff, but not all of it, and the older I get, the less I share.
8. How do you handle negative or unhelpful reviews or critique? Does it impact the way you write?
I’ve never had any negative response, so I don’t know. The silence when you’re 4 chapters deep and no one has reviewed is deafening though.
9. Do you respond to every comment/reply you get? If not, which ones get your attention and why?
I only respond to the long/sincere ones, because I feel like they deserve some encouragement in return for taking the time to really let me know what they thought.
10. Ever gotten weird, unsolicited messages asking to join an RP group or some such because this person apparently read your writing (but probably didn’t)?
Hah. Once or twice.
11. What is your favorite platform to post your writing, talk about writing, or anything like that?
My favourite place to post and to read by far is AO3 - but I find the best platform to get feedback on is FF.net. My favourite place to talk about writing is over here on tumblr.
MY QUESTIONS
How do you get yourself to focus on writing?
What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written?
Tell me about your current WIP.
Do you write for yourself or for an audience?
Do you share your writing with anyone you know in real life?
What’s the nicest comment/review you’ve ever gotten?
What platform do you prefer to post your work on?
Do you plot or pants?
What have you learnt while writing your stories?
Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?
Can you give a spoiler for your WIP?
Tagging (from writer peeps) @converginglives, @pen-in-hand (if you want another one I think mel got you xD), @aethryos, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @siriusguided, @insertpenname-here, @indecentpause, @writing-at-dusk @sillyliterature @anoddconstellationofthoughts @writingtomorrow
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Epilogue, Part I.
32,724 km flown. 8 takeoffs and 8 landings. Visiting 9 countries and spending 39 days on the ground in east Africa. We encountered elephants outside our lodge one afternoon and baby bats inside it one evening. Jonas may have had a near-death experience (Ok, we are exaggerating a bit), and I was approached by an armed military/police personnel for a bribe. There's more than enough intriguing stories to tell at every family gathering, late nights at bars, dinner parties, and for the "one-up" stories we can tell.
During these seven weeks, we also experienced things far deeper than these frivilous, instagram-worthy experiences. The four of us witnessed firsthand and heard what the majority of people's lives are like, where there are no luxuries of choice, rights, and preferences, but desparation for survival for the day and for that night. We spent time with our hosts and orphan care organization to get a glimpse of hope and smiles for the children living in Kauma, a large slum of 50,000 in Lilongwe, Malawi's capital. My kids learned and experienced to cross the line to enter another world and adjust to cross-cultural experiences, more than a mere few days in a foreign country playing visitors and tourists. We adjusted to uncertainties of each day. We learned that yes, it's actually normal for menu items to be "out" for the day and grocery stores to run "out" of things that we are so accustomed to.
Most of all, the four of us realized more than any of us could ever realize how much of a blessed life we live in North America. Well, this sounds so basic. We knew from our heads that these were true, but having experienced what we experienced, this became engrained in us more than ever before.
It's so easy to get caught up in our mentality of this developed life we live in North America: "Be better than the Joneses." "Excel in what you do." "I deserve a better life." "I wish we had more than the Joneses." "If I work hard and enjoy our life, and feel financially secure enough for the future, we will be ok."
Yet, when I really think about it, we miss this between the matter of need vs. want. Like we tell our kids to distinguish the differences between needing and wanting, far too often, my desires and wants become my needs. When my wants and desires become needs, but those aren't realized, I become bitter and in despair. And when those wants and desires are met, then I find new things to want... and they become needs... and so on and so forth. It's a natural order of things, really. And far too often, I convinced ourselves that I am in control of these things and my future destiny.
We visited seven families and at every visit, we "asked," "can you describe what you wish and "for? And the answers were very similar-- financial and job security. But when you asked deeper, their financial and job secur"ity questions were much more basic than ours. Most of these people I in a rented house, we just 2 or 3 rooms, with dirt ground, no windows, and a grass thatched roofs. Their possessions were things like used potato sacks (for bedding), a few utensils, a jug maybe size of 2 jerry cans for water, and a few sets of clothes. The poorer half of Kauma worked that day for each evenings' food-- one tablespoon of oil purchased at the market, with a cup or two of maize flour for their food, and if the day was good, extra seasoning for their maize cake they make. If they didn't find work, they were to go hungry that night.
The long term Canadian workers, and our hosts for the time we were there, told us that the children often join the program at VOH because of food. Food is that scarce. We can argue all day on what the best way is to eliminate food scarcity and solve all of the world's problems. But, that's not possible nor practical-- and more often than not I blame the UN and the "powers above" who should be doing better to take care of their people. Not trying to be a problem solver here, but as an observer of these people, I noticed something beautiful about how they lived. They were trying, like I try for my "wants and needs", but they lived with hope for their needs that night. And all of this was done in a community setting-- when one worked, others watched the children. They all shared their stuff at night. Not a "dog-eat-dog" kind of a world we live, but a community where most looked after others. They even looked after me and my family, when they had none .
Hope is a powerful thing. I know I hoped for my firm to succeed, when things looked unattainable, improbable, diffciult, and out of my control. I also hoped to get a good job after university, or getting into university, or hoping for a snow day the night before a big exam that I wasn't prepared for, or hope for a girl to notice me, or whatever. On a much lesser note, I hoped desperately for Osuna to get out of that 8th innining on the game 6 of the 2015 ALCS. When the Raptors won that final game just a few months ago, my bandwagoned hope of the Raptors winning the NBA finals came true. The city went ecstatic.
Whereas these people in Kauma lived for daily, life-or-death hope-- for survival each evening, for their stomachs to be full each evening, my hopes in Canada are frivolous or long-term at best. It's only when disasters happen, like deaths and losses in the family, or sickneses... something way outside of our control, things we take for granted, are taken away, that we have the similar kind of hope in our hearts.
This trip, for me, was to re-ignite this mentality of counting my blessings, and finding hope in our daily, mundane lives where hope isn't a necessary part of our living. We wanted to instill that in me, Janette and the kids. Can this be achieved without having to go hungry to bed every night? I really hope so.
To be continued with probably lighter things...
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Shadow
tw: pet death
We lost our beautiful, lively, shy, affectionate, panther of a house cat on Monday, March 25, 2019. While I hope the details of the past month fade from my memory, I know some of you are shocked at the news and want to know what happened. This story is still too painful to retell, so I’m putting it here.
It’s a long story with a tragic end. It’s not my best writing, but editing it further is beyond me right now.
Shadow came into our lives on Feb. 13th, 2015. We went to the animal shelter to look at a dog – instead, we came home with an eight-year-old black cat. We thought he was a gentle old man, but as soon as he stepped out of the crate we realized they had sent us home with a panther. He was thirteen pounds of pure muscle, and the first thing he did was jump up six feet to hide on the top shelf of my closet.
Despite his size and athleticism, he was incredibly gentle and shy. He hid under the bed the first two weeks that he spent with us, only coming out after lots of cajoling. Even then, he’d often stop just at the edge of the bed so we could reach in and pet him. Once he was comfortable with us, he’d throw himself at our feet for pets and scritches, rolling around so we could get at his belly. He was always deferential to our resident female cat, despite having at least three pounds on her. He was playful and sweet, jumping up walls to catch at laser lights and crawling under the covers for morning snuggles. You always knew what his favorite toy was, as he’d leave it next to (or, more commonly, in) his food dish.
I’m not sure when he stopped eating. He still cried for food every morning and night, and he still went to the bowl and began lapping it up. We noticed that there was more wet food being left over, but that happens sometimes and it usually isn’t a problem – maybe one or both cats don’t care for that flavor of wet food, or maybe they got tired of it, or maybe they’re eating less because everyone is less active in winter. They always had access to dry food, so I didn’t worry.
I was shocked when I picked him up in late February and realized I could feel his bones. He was always a healthy, muscular cat – but suddenly he felt frail and old. Concerned, I made an vet appointment; the soonest available was two weeks away. Luck was on our side, and I got a call a few days later saying they could see us March 8th.
At the vet, we found our healthy-at-thirteen-pounds boy was now under ten. Blood work showed signs of pancreatitis, dehydration, and anemia. X-rays didn’t find anything surprising, just an empty stomach. He got anti-nausea meds, pain meds, and fluids. They sent us back home with some prescription food, instructions to monitor his food and water intake, and a blood recheck appointment set up for a week later.
His appetite increased for a few days. He still wasn’t eating enough to gain any weight, but any progress was hopeful. But by Wednesday (the 13th) he was back to barely eating anything and I called and got him an appointment for the next day. The 14th was terrifying – his weight had continued to drop, and as had his red blood cell count. They recommended hospitalization for IV fluids and medication, and to monitor his eating. I cried signing the papers to leave him there for the day.
When I went to pick him up that night, they said he hadn’t really improved and they recommended overnight hospitalization. Our vet isn’t a 24 hour clinic, so that involved transferring him to a local emergency vet. The ER vet reassured us that pancreatitis is often treated by a few days of pushing fluids, so we should remain hopeful. She also offered to do an ultrasound on his abdomen, to further look for anything else that could be causing his symptoms. No one really knew why he was so anemic, but maybe the ultra sound would see if/where he was bleeding internally.
After a sleepless night, the ER vet called to tell us Shadow had done well – they’d gotten him to eat a little, and the ultra sound hadn’t found anything too alarming or conclusive. The only thing they noted was an enlarged lymph node. We were told another day of hospitalization would be ideal, but we might be able to take him home that night. It was with a much lighter heart that we brought him back to our regular vet, giving them the overnight report and excited to get our healthy boy back soon.
However, our rollercoaster took a sudden dive. The vet reported that he hadn’t eaten and had only gotten more lethargic as the day progressed. The next diagnostic step they recommended was exploratory surgery, during which they would also insert a feeding tube so we could ensure he was getting the calories he needed. At this point, they were very worried he was about to enter liver failure from starvation.
We decided to go ahead with the surgery, which was scheduled for the next morning. We took him home that night for lots of cuddles – lapped up our affection all night. He was so happy to be back in his familiar environment, and our other cat also made it clear she was thrilled he was home.
Taking him to the vet the next morning was a tense affair. After finally being home, he wanted nothing to do with his cat carrier and let us know it. Three hours later I got a call from the vet – he’d done very well in surgery and was waking up comfortably! They had a new diagnosis based on the state of his liver and gall-bladder: feline triaditis. While they did take a couple biopsies, they were pretty confident we were on the right track. They said the prognosis was good but the at-home care would be intensive; not only were we responsible for his calorie intake through the feeding tube until he began to eat again, but there were also five medications that needed to be given once or twice a day. They still hadn’t found a source for the anemia, but hoped it would recoup with everything else.
We were thrilled to bring him home and dedicated to getting him back up to health. His food was specially prepared each day and given to him 4-5 times daily. He had to be quarantined from our other cat and dog for a while, so he was confined to the spare bedroom. Within three days, he was starting to eat on his own and was feisty enough to try and escape to the rest of the apartment whenever I opened the door. His stitches were healing well, and we got a onesie for him to wear instead of the hated cone (not that he liked it much better). The vet checked in that Monday, and was almost as excited as I was to hear how well he was doing. We started letting him explore the rest of the apartment with Leira and Kenai when we were home to monitor him, so he got more stimulation and got to hang out in all his favorite spots. Everything was looking up.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. On Friday (the 22nd) I noticed that his eating was declining. We had just gotten him up to full calories through the feeding tube, so I figured it would take a while for his appetite to surpass what we were giving him. However, his appetite didn’t pick back up, and he began showing increased signs of nausea when I fed him. He also felt unusually warm. On Monday I called the vet, and left a message asking if this was normal recovery behavior. I spent the afternoon at home with him, waiting for the vet to call. They didn’t, so I called and asked again that evening – this time someone went back to talk to the vet in person. We were advised to take him to ER.
We went back to the ER where he had been hospitalized just ten days before. After a quick physical exam (where we saw he had lost even more weight, and he was feverish), they took him back for more bloodwork. He was extraordinarily anemic – his red blood cell count had decreased by half from its previous low levels. We could take him to a clinic that could do a blood transfusion – the nearest one was an hour away by car, and he’d have to stay there for at least 24 hours to make sure his body didn’t reject the blood. And since we didn’t know what was causing the anemia, it was likely the transfusion would only buy us a little time.
The next diagnostic step would be to test a sample of his bone marrow, a process that would involve putting him under anesthesia. There were three main suspects for his anemia at this point: a virus attacking his red blood cells and/or bone marrow, an autoimmune disorder (his body attacking his red blood cells), or cancer. We were advised that was a toss of the dice whether or not it was something treatable; even if it was, it would be extremely intensive and difficult for him.
We took some time to hold him close and think about our options. His options. For the last few weeks (and the last four years) we had discussed always trying to do what was best for him. And as he fell asleep in my arms, that most difficult choice became clear.
The vet told us we could take him home overnight if we wanted, but it we weren’t going to do a transfusion we should bring him back within 24 hours to put him to sleep. I didn’t want him to go through two more car rides (his most hated activity) and what would clearly be a painful and stressful night – we decided it would be best to let him go peacefully that night. He’d had a good day cuddling on the couch with me, Leira, and Kenai (one of the rare times I actually got a picture of him and the dog together). Luis and I held him for at least an hour, telling him we loved him and soaking in his sweetness. Finally we knew we couldn’t delay any longer. Luis held me and I held Shadow as the vet administered the anesthesia, lulling him into sleep for the last time.
Shadow was so much more than we ever could have expected. I’ll never be able to describe him adequately, or what he meant to us. We will miss him forever, and cherish the time we did get to spend with him.
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‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ anniversary year. Just reuploaded this video from my archive. After the pre-album showcase tour in which they debuted 6 new songs hit Amsterdam (https://strangedaysindeed9.tumblr.com/post/159858077985/arctic-monkeys-2007-favourite-worst-nightmare-showcase), they came back 2 months later to play another venue gig, in the now closed Tivoli in Utrecht, the crowd now being overly familiar with the songs.
Tickets were on sale through a few record stores in the city and post offices throughout the country. No overnight queuing allowed this time. I took the first train to Utrecht to increase my chances since it had the most ticket outlets, stumbled upon 50 people already lining up for one record store, the double for another. The biggest post office had a similar number of people lining up.
Since tickets were also available country-wide through post offices this time as said, with 1000 tickets available in total, I didn’t think twice and went straight to a money exchange office with ticket sales services, which wouldn’t open until 30 minutes before ticket sale, a place I hoped no one would think of. And I was right about that, the first in line, but within 5 minutes after I arrived the place filled up with people who had a similar plan B (or C or D). Lucky.
When the place finally opened, the lady behind the counter told us excitedly this was one of the favourite parts of her job: succeeding tickets highly in demand. Having had experiences through the years with local post office employees who for example slowly started up the computer while tickets got on sale and meanwhile packing some bags, or counter staff typing in “Beatsie Boys” instead of “Beastie Boys” and telling me no tickets for any event with that name were on sale that morning, from then on, I knew it was going to be fine.
I will never forget how this lady was thrashing her keyboard, *shortcut*-*shortcut*-“Arct”-*ENTER*, and again, and again. She started doing this a minute in advance, knowing often tickets went on sale seconds before 10am. According to the receipts, the transactions she managed to do were done between 10:00:00 and 10:00:05, with one last attempt succeeding at 10:00:07: sold out in 7 seconds. I believe she managed to get 15 tickets, an accordion of tickets filling up the printer. Obviously everyone wanted the maximum of 2 tickets per person, so the first 8 people were in luck. Not so quick… the 8th person with the sole ticket had a ticket to some random musical in The Hague called “Arctic Galaxies” or whatever, an error made in the heat of those 7 seconds. One person in line sacrificed his second ticket, and the happy, then gutted, then happy again person was able to go after all. Nawwww.
Needless to say I had 5 other people spread across the country on the case as well, but only half of them succeeded. Those who did were then allowed to go themselves ;).
The sound of above video isn’t half as heavenly as my recording from the previous gig in The Netherlands (linked here: https://strangedaysindeed9.tumblr.com/post/159858077985/arctic-monkeys-2007-favourite-worst-nightmare-showcase) because taking full recording equipment to an Arctic Monkeys gig in “mosh”-prime, after having done exactly that effort for the pre-FWN showcase gig, was a bit too much. The crowd was as crazy as always, especially with a setlist like this, a show starting in the dark with - an extended version! of - the orchestral intro to ‘If You Found This It’s Probably Too Late’ mysteriously playing as build-up, and the band going into a roaring version of that 1 minute song as opener, then straight into ‘Brianstorm’.
There’s so much to tell about this show but it wouldn’t do it justice. As you can see in the setlist below, the energy level was one big peak. I think the first breather came during ‘Teddy Picker’, hence me finally filming. A funny detail is that they had to place barriers and placed 2 security guys in front of it, unheard of at the time for venue gigs, but it was needed after the complete anarchy with stage divers the first AM gigs over here. Rock and roll might have died that night (joking).
One highlight was Alex Turner pausing during the first break in ‘Fluorescent Adolescent’, being overwhelmed with the crowd response on the then still new songs, and commenting “I think that was the loudest that anyone’s ever sang that!” (https://youtu.be/aJNbBzoCPJk?t=37s). Remember when he didn’t use to draaaaag this song in every breaaaaak?
They played 3 songs more than the previous show, dropped’ ‘What If You Were Right First Time’ and added ‘Balaclava’, ‘If You Found This It’s Probably Too Late’, ‘If You Were There, Beware’ and ‘Old Yellow Bricks’. I grinned at the major stage upgrade they did on this new tour leg: the special effects of 4 big light masts in the background, that’s it. Almost being used as stroboscopes during the most intense songs, a pretty smart and effective addition for venue gigs.
10 years ago today. This also means it’s 10 years since I had my final exams. Old.
The full setlist from that night:
If You Found This It’s Probably Too Late
Brianstorm
Still Take You Home
Dancing Shoes
From the Ritz to the Rubble
Balaclava
Fake Tales of San Francisco
You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight at Me
Teddy Picker
D Is for Dangerous
I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor
This House Is a Circus
Old Yellow Bricks
If You Were There, Beware
The View from the Afternoon
Fluorescent Adolescent
Do Me a Favour
When the Sun Goes Down
Leave Before the Lights Come On
A Certain Romance
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Saving Severus Snape - Chapter 18
7th November 1976
Hermione’s cheeks were ablaze. How should she respond? He looked at her expectantly. His own face flushed with a bit of color.
She had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. It wasn't fair to either of them for her to lie any longer. And she also had a feeling that if she continued to deny her feelings towards him, she was going to lose him completely. After all, there were only so many times a person could be rejected, before they gave up completely. Hermione didn't want him to give up, and she sure as hell was not prepared to lose him.
After deep breath and while she twisted her fingers around one another, Hermione finally answered.
“I like you, Severus,” she admitted in a small voice.
Yes her answer was weak, and not quite all that she had wanted to say, but she was only human. Even though most of his words and actions had strongly hinted towards an interest in her, she still did not want to lay all of her cards on the table, out of the small fear of possible rejection.
But from the way his mouth twisted, she knew he was expecting her to say more.
“I mean, I enjoy spending time with you, more than anyone else to be honest,” she added.
He still did not appear mollified by her response. His eyes dropped from hers and a slight frown touched his lips. “I…enjoy our time together, as well,” he told her quietly.
They both sat in silence. Hermione chewed the inside of her lip as she mentally debated on if she should say more, or wait for him to speak again. She had a raging battle inside of her, as she argued with herself as to if she should just let the chips fall where they may, and voice her desire to attempt something more with him. She wanted to so badly that it almost hurt.
“Hermione, I want to be honest with you, because it's something I need to work on -- being honest,” he began. Her heart drummed madly. “I don't want to just be your friend. And if I'm correct, I don't believe you are interested in just friendship either.”
She was completely speechless, yet found it in her to at least shake her head.
“So what do we do now?” he asked.
Bugger it all to hell if she knew. Poor Severus had no idea what he was asking for.
“We take it slowly, and continue learning about one another? I don't know about you, Severus, but I'm not entertaining the idea of anyone else at the moment,” she said.
Severus leaned forward and reached for her hand. As he wrapped his around hers, the contrast of his alabaster skin to her golden tone was striking, he gently stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “I could work with that.” Then he gave her a heart stopping smirk. “And no Hermione, I'm not entertaining the idea of another either.”
Upon seeing the rare joy on Severus’ face, that was when Hermione knew there was no turning back. Given the choice between no time with him romantically, or a small sliver of time with him in that way, she'd chosen the small sliver. After all both of them had been through, and would go through, they deserved at least that much. No matter how selfish of her it was to have felt that way.
When Severus returned to his work, Hermione noticed he crushed with more vigor and confidence than he had prior to their conversation. As she watched him, her doubt was pushed aside, and all the excitement and butterflies that come along with the promise of a new relationship took its place.
***
8th November 1976
Monday evening, while Severus was serving his final detention, Hermione sat reading her time travel book on one of the many stone benches in the corridors of the school. True to her nature, now that she'd decided to try a relationship with Severus, albeit a slow one, she began research on the subject.
Although romantic involvement while you are in the past is not forbidden, it is not exactly encouraged. Understand that you are undeniably leaving your presence in a world in which you do not belong. The person whom you involve yourself with will most certainly remember you, more so than any other you come into contact with. The emotional harm you may inflict on your partner, if or when you return to your own time, could potentially be severe.
However, it is true that some loves withstand time. If the bond you have with that person proves to be strong enough, it may be possible that you were meant to find that person. You may find yourself meeting that person again one day. It is up to you to decide if the rewards outweigh the risks.
That last sentence weighed heavily on her mind. Would the rewards outweigh the risks? Possibly, she thought. If the rewards turn out that her love could potentially save him -- save herself even, then yes. For once she'd wished she hadn't been Hermione Granger, and hadn't been compelled to over analyze every single last move in her life, and for once just go with what felt right. Because truthfully, being with Severus just felt right.
She was so wrapped up in her head, and in her reading that she hadn't heard anyone approach, until they spoke to her.
“Time travel? That's an unusual topic,” Remus said, standing before her.
Hermione was startled so violently that the book flew out of her hands and onto the floor. Remus glanced at the book then back to Hermione, his eyes flashed with one thousand questions.
“Merlin’s Beard, Remus!” Hermione exclaimed before she hastily reached for her book, then shoved it into her bag. “You scared me half to death.”
Remus’ eyes were fixed on her bag as he took a seat next to her. “Sorry,” he told her. “What are you reading that for?”
How stupid of her to have read that book out in the open. The only reason she did was because the library was filled with students, who were beginning to study for their end of term exams, before the holidays. Since it was getting quite late, she figured she wouldn't have run into anyone in the hallway, but she didn't factor in the Prefects who would just be starting patrols.
“Oh you know, just some light reading. Something to take my mind off of studying for a bit,” she lied, with her voice traveling up an octave.
As Remus looked at her, his eyes scanned her face, as if he was searching for the answer to an exceptionally difficult riddle. Hermione squirmed in her seat. Remus was too perceptive for her own good. Something she knew from her time knowing him as an adult. She had to change the subject quickly.
“How are things going with Amelia?” she asked, before he could interrogate her any further. It seemed to have done the trick. He smiled.
“They seem to be going pretty well, actually.”
Hermione was happy for Remus, knowing that Amelia seemed to bring such joy into his life. The way he lit up when he spoke about her, or was near her would be something she'd always be appreciative towards Amelia for. Hermione knew Remus had a difficult time in school, with worrying about people finding out his secret, so to see him so enamoured was wonderful.
“That's great, Remus. I know that she's really quite taken with you,” Hermione said. “But I never said that,” she quickly added with a laugh.
Remus opened his eyes wide, and tried to appear as innocent looking as possible. “Said what, Hermione?” He smirked.
Soon then fell into conversation about school, exams, and their plans for the holidays. When Hermione told him she would be remaining at Hogwarts during the break, he appeared to be trying to hide a smile.
“I've heard that Snape usually stays behind during the holidays, too,” said Remus slyly.
Hermione looked down at her shoes. “Does he? He hadn't mentioned anything.”
Remus placed his hand on Hermione’s forearm; she looked back at him. His face again changed from her schoolmate to the professor she had once known, and she worried another lecture was on its way.
“Hermione, listen. I - I may not like him, and I may not understand, but he does seem to make you happy. So…I hate to sound all cliché, but as long as you're happy, then I'm happy for you,” he told her, completely taking her off guard.
Her throat tightened after Remus had told her that. She wasn't looking for anyone's blessing -- far from it. But to finally have a friend voice their acceptance of her feelings for Severus, especially after all the pushback she had been receiving, it meant a great deal to her.
She clasped his hand, which still rested on her forearm, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Remus.”
***
11th November 1976
Without the Warming Charm, and hot thermos of coffee -- Hermione visibly grimaced when Severus told her had taken his black -- they would had been frozen to their cores, as they sat on a blanket, staring across the Black Lake and at the magnificent view of Hogwarts. Hermione had asked Severus, who also had a free hour before lunch, if he'd prefer to spend time alone together, before they had to attend their afternoon double Potions class. Severus was only too happy to oblige.
Hermione truly loved the tiny island that she and Severus would sometimes escape to. The fact that it was so far removed from everything and everyone else brought a welcomed calm and peace to her, when otherwise she was a jumble of stress and nerves.
Even with the Warming Charm, she still felt the sting from the whipping wind, so she scooted herself closer to Severus, hoping to take comfort in his body heat. Almost as if on instinct, she leaned her head onto his shoulder. She felt him become as still as stone when she did, yet after a few seconds, he slowly wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her in closer. It was the most intimate gesture either of them had show the other so far, and she had to admit, she felt completely at home in his embrace.
As she sat there, she began thinking of how incredible it was that they had managed to come to the point they were at. How Severus had gone from openly hostile, to indifferent, to begrudgingly civil, to somewhat friendly, to pleasant and funny, to at times sweet and sort of romantic.
Ten weeks ago, Hermione feared she'd never get into Severus’ good graces, now she sat tucked into his side, and the two of them were becoming more important to one another with each passing day. He wasn't just a mission to her any longer. He was a person who made her knees go week. Someone who made her think differently, and re-evaluate so many things she never thought she'd have to. Like her relationship with Ron, for example.
She'd always thought that she and Ron were meant to be. That it had to end up that way. But why? Because they'd been through so many hard times together, and had their loyalty to Harry in common? When it came down to it, she and Ron were just never compatible. It's true when they say opposites attract, but there had to be a limit to that. She and Ron were just too different, and now that she'd thought about it more clearly and objectively, they would never had made it in the long run.
Severus on the other hand, it made sense. They were just opposite enough for there to be an attraction, yet they had enough in common to make it work. She'd never become bored with someone like Severus, who'd always be able to stimulate her intellectually. With the two of them, she knew there would always be some sort of debate or deep discussion about issues and ideas that she was passionate about. Severus was the type of person who she knew would never be finished learning, and neither would she. And she'd love to have the chance to go through life questioning the status quo and learning everything she possibly could with him by her side.
Her internal musings brought a question to her mind.
“Severus?” she asked softly. “What do you want to do after Hogwarts?”
From being his student for so many years, a part of her always wondered if he’d actually enjoyed teaching. It hadn't felt as if he had, and after she learned the truth about him, she knew he was more or less forced into the position. Now that she had the opportunity, she wanted to know what his aspirations were before his life had fallen apart.
“To be honest, I'm not quite sure,” he said. “I've tossed around a few ideas, but nothing has really called to me...until recently, that is.” He then looked down and smiled. “Perhaps I’ll take up a Potions apprenticeship.”
Hermione felt that familiar flip in her stomach. How badly she wished they really could do that together. But she decided to play along for now.
“Oh really?” She smirked. “What ever changed your mind?”
Taking her off guard, he poked her in her side, causing her to squeak -- not many people knew, but she was very ticklish. He laughed at her reaction, and a devilish look came into his eyes. Hermione’s mouth ran dry at the sight.
“Very recently, the idea became much more attractive, you could say.”
Hermione’s retort was lost, due to Severus poking her again, then full out tickling her after she jumped and squeaked a second time. As he attacked her, Hermione fell back and tried desperately to crawl away, yet Severus was too strong. She tried to threaten him between giggles, however, the threats sounded hollow to both of them. Seeing this playful side of Severus caused her to fall even deeper into this madness that was happening between the two of them, but at this point Hermione could not have cared less.
When he finally stopped, Hermione laid panting on the ground; Severus kneeled over her, watching her with a new fire in his eyes.
Her heart hammered as she narrowed her eyes and sat up slowly, pushing the hair away that had fallen across her face. “You're going to pay for that, Severus Snape,” she threatened with a predatory smile.
Severus rolled his eyes and beckoned her forward with a twitch of his index finger.
As she advanced towards him, she raised her arm, pointing her wand at him, intending to hurl a minor bat bogey hex his way. Her pulse went into overdrive when Severus completely surprised her, by quickly grabbing her by the wrist, and pulling her up against his lean frame. Before she had any time to act, or overthink, he crashed his lips onto hers with a chaste kiss, then immediately pulled away and dropped her arm.
Hermione’s breathing stopped completely. Severus’ eyes were opened so wide, it was a wonder they hadn't fallen out of their sockets. Both of their faces burned brightly as they stared at one another in shock. Hermione brought her hand up to her lips, still in disbelief over what had just happened.
“I'm sorry” he said quickly.
“Don't be,” Hermione replied just as fast.
Before she could say anything else, he stood up and walked a few paces away. Hermione was rooted to the spot, frozen by the dozens of emotions that were flowing through her.
They'd just shared their first kiss, and it was over in the blink of an eye. She hoped -- if it were to have happen -- that it would had been more along the lines of her dreams, but reality was never like a dream. She knew that. But still, it wasn't as if she was complaining about what happened. Now that it did, she wondered why she hadn't let it happen sooner. It felt foolish to have overthought it as much as she did. And quite honestly, she was fighting every impulse she had to get up and do it again. However, the way Severus was reacting told her that wouldn't have been the best idea at the moment.
“I shouldn't have…I mean -- you said slowly -- I'm sorry, I -- please don't be angry,” he stammered with his back turned to her.
Hermione couldn't allow him to beat himself up over this. Without saying anything, she stood up, walked over to him, and wrapped both arms around his waist. He didn't move.
“I'm not angry,” she told him.
No response, save for the howling wind, and the water slapping the shore of the island.
“Yes, I did say I wanted to take things slowly, however…maybe -- I didn't mind it,” she admitted, not only to him, but to herself also.
Gradually he turned around with Hermione's arms still locked around him. He looked down at her with something close to wonder in his expression. He shook his head subtly, as he smiled.
“No?” he asked.
Hermione smiled back. “No.”
He reached down and grazed the back of his hand across her cheekbone. Goosebumps trailed behind on her flesh and a shiver ran down her spine.
“We should probably head back to the school,” he said sadly.
Every part of her wanted to stay there, alone, wrapped in his arms, but she knew he was right. Even under normal circumstances she wouldn't have wanted to progress things too quickly, and if they remained there, she was sure her strength would falter.
“Yes, we probably should,” she reluctantly agreed, before releasing herself from his hold.
On the boat ride back to the castle, Hermione and Severus did not say much. They simply sat next to one another, holding hands. They hadn't discussed any more about what had just happened between them, but Hermione knew that everything would be different now. And for once, different in a positive way.
As she looked up at Severus, and he responded by kissing the crown of her head, Hermione knew that she could not fail in saving his life. She knew that now it went beyond wanting to do the right thing. Because, if Hermione failed, and Severus did not make it through that final night, before she'd travelled to the past, it would be something she couldn't possibly handle. If Severus Snape died, Hermione was positive that a part of her would as well. And she would be damned before she'd allow that to happen.
#snamione#snamione fanfiction#hermione x snape#harry potter fanfiction#hermione granger#severus snape#young severus snape#time turner fanfiction#hermione time travel
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Cyclops
Course.
—Right, says Ned. President Obama working instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton. —And so say all of us, says the citizen. Stay safe!
I.
SUPREME COURT, REMEMBER! Look to our steeds.
—And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary, who tried so hard, was unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington D.C. An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage. —Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.
He will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character.
—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini.
Faith, he was.
—What?
So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!
Crooked Hillary wants to get rid of all guns and yet she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed.
Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he: Mendelssohn was a jew, says Martin. Many are professionals.
—What's your opinion of the times? —Sinn Fein! —Conspuez les Anglais! Thank you to all of the Crooked Hillary Clinton's foreign policy experience, yet look what her policies have done Look forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. Mock his heritage and much more. And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag.
Isn't this a ridiculous shame? He is trying to say that she will be raising taxes beyond belief! The people of our country are amazing-great numbers on November 8th! Florida. Says Joe. —Here, says he. Just returned but will be going to New Hampshire today, home of my first primary victory, to discuss terror and the horrible events of yesterday. —That covers my case, says Joe. —The noblest, the truest, says he, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling. Or so they allege.
To a great and brave man-thank you! O'Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most talented people running for the mayoralty, Alf? —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf. —Sweat of my brow, says Joe. Look what is going on there-totally out of control.
A rump and dozen, says the citizen. Says the citizen, staring out. Course it was a bloody barney.
Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. Why wasn't this brought up before election? I won the debate if you decide without watching the totally one-sided deal from the beginning. Lyin’ Ted & others are being removed!
Many missing! —And there's more where that came from, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. Because, you see. Wisconsin has suffered a great loss of jobs and will bring back great American prosperity. But what did we ever get for it?
I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. Thought it was going to lose the election. Turned down by court earlier. James Clapper called me yesterday, very much to my surprise, and we had a very open and successful presidential election. Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. He wishes he didn't make that deal! Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him in Irish and a lot of money in Atlantic City and left 7 years ago, was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. Today at 3:00 P.M. today at Lincoln Memorial. Crooked Hillary off the hook!
—No, says Joe, throwing down the letters. Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages.
So totally dishonest!
Time Magazine, Drudge etc.
The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him, I promise you. —Good Christ!
—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe. The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf, laughing. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. The Supreme Court and mic did not work a mess-just like Dem party! A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons.
Says J.J.—We don't want him, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. I must go now, says he.
—Circumcised?
Democrat Governor.
That covers my case, says Joe, tonight. Everybody is arguing whether or not it is a hit on me.
—But do you know what it is? So then the citizen begins talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland.
There should be no further releases from Gitmo. Using Alicia M in the debate as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary Clinton will be a big gasp when the figures are announced in the morning without a stitch on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the white chief woman, the great businessman from Mexico, called me about getting together for a meeting.
Wrong, it all came together in the last week and I thought and felt I would win with the voters Biggest story in politics. Hillary last night. With Dignam, says Alf.
P And he started laughing.
Hillary would be even worse. Amazing crowd! Senate? —Come on boys, says Martin, we're ready. Says Joe. Or so they allege. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. —The French!
I am going to repeal and replace ObamaCare. —Lo, Joe, says I.
People don't want another four years of incompetence! We will bring back jobs to USA. Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the endorsement. Bikers for Trump are on their way.
We need her to lead.
A CHANGE, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! WT SO DANGEROUS! Says Joe. —Now, don't you think, Bergan?
It is impossible for the FBI not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary Clinton.
OHIO NBC/WSJ/MARIST POLL Trump 42% Clinton 41% Just left a great rally tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. It is amazing how often I am right, only to be criticized by the media, with a long cane and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor woman, I mean, says the citizen, and the time is now!
We are not looking smart, we are not looking good, we are not merely transferring power from one Administration to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap's dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. President Obama should have gone to Louisiana days ago, instead of sixteen. —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? Says Bloom. —A most scandalous thing! We have an army of volunteers and people with GREAT SPIRIT!
—Well, says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon? I don't know, says Alf. —Then about! We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have liked them, and run as an independent! If I can’t make a great case out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition?
And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the U.S.Senate.
The goodness of your heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech.
So he told Terry to bring. —Bye bye all, says Martin. Wow, 30,000 e-mails. Wrong answer!
We can’t allow this.
Getting ready to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland was a big success. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions.
But my point was—We are a long time. I'd bet a good lawyer could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.
Made up, phony facts. Throwaway, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. The so-called Obama years. Misconduct of society belle. —Casement, says the citizen.
Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard. Bad instincts A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. —Still running, says he. Unbelievable evening. —I will, for trading without a licence ow!
She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. He will be greatly strengthened and our borders will be strong. Together, we will always be trying to DTS. Look forward to being in Tampa this afternoon. —check w/local officials for details & VOTE!
We will build the wall, Muslims, NATO! —lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a friend in court. Great Again!
Dimsey, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. The debates, especially the second and third, plus speeches and intensity of the large rallies, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us the win! Ohio from drug overdoses. CLINTON 27.
—Bloody wars, says I.
How are the mighty fallen! Actually, she has BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary has experience, look at all of the amazing first responders. If not, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a total secret.
Show us the entrance out. —Remanded, says J.J.—There he is, says Joe.
My wife?
Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. Royal Donor. Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar. Humane methods. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings.
Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47.
Says Joe, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs.
Big 5:00 P.M. W. We gave them months of notice. Mind C.K. doesn't pile it on. It's not signed Shanganagh. Details to follow. The epicentre appears to have been that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch.
Looking forward to a big rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight.
And lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. Order! Billions of dollars can and will be overturned! Old Whatwhat. I will soon be speaking in Pennsylvania this afternoon. The system is rigged. —Dominus vobiscum. Interrogated as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. —There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf, laughing. Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up.
Will guns be taken from her heavily armed Secret Service detail? I will bring them back! Mr Flynn gave me. Says Bloom. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Cuckoos. And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? No, says I. Very dishonest media! Cheers.—There's the man, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. Ay, says I. Crooked Hillary Clinton, was the citizen up in the next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/local officials for details & VOTE!
Such a great honor! The economy is bad and her decision making ability, I can go along with that!
—Devil a much, says I.
People.
To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on him, swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid. Anytime you see a story about me or my campaign saying sources said, DO NOT believe it. And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the eyes of the law. How dare you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order!
—Foreign wars is the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse.
At least 67 dead, 400 injured. —There he is, says Joe, reading one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. Very short and lies. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes.
The epicentre appears to have been that part of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? Blazes, says Alf. I dare him, says the citizen.
It was held to be the Republican Nominee for President of the U.S. for long enough.
U.p: up.
And he starts reading out one. You should focus on jobs & illegal imm!
—Still, says Bloom, the councillor is going?
The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know how bad ObamaCare is and what a mess they are in. Always speaks badly of his many bosses, including Obama. Mean bloody scut.
Humane methods. He's not smart enough to run for president!
And I belong to a race too, says the citizen.
Scandalous! Here we go-Enjoy! And who was sitting up there in the corner behind the barrel, and the people of the UK have exercised that right for all the victims & their families.
It would be called conspiracy theory!
Will be there soon-the polls are looking good for Tuesday! The noblest, the truest, says he.
And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. Many reports that I will be having a general news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C.
False reporting, and plenty of it-but we must enforce the laws of the land! —But, says Bloom.
I dismiss the case. I want to see the citizen. —That's the new Messiah for Ireland! Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. Mister Knowall. Biggest story in politics is now happening in the great State of Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful people of Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers. —You saw his ghost then, says Joe. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co, limited, 8,9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY!
And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. We will all come together and save the day. —Gold cup, says he, I dare him, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope.
It's a secret.
—Ay, says Ned. No policy, and always very short stamina. —Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. Praying for the families of the terrible tragedy in Nice, France, I have asked Boeing to price-out a comparable F-18 Super Hornet! All talk, no action—maybe her Native American name? —You, Jack? Says I. —And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe.
—A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our misfortunes. —Let me, said he with an obsequious bow. This poor hardworking man! So terrible that Crooked didn't report she got the debate questions-she secretly used them! Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.
Bernie. ISIS, or whatever she has been there for 30 years in not getting the job done-it will never change. An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. He could not have watched my standing ovation speech in N.C. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. —Yes, sir, I'll make no order for payment.
—A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Hundred to five. —Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith The citizen made a plunge back into the shop.
Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power trying to get him to sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ' sake and don't be making a public exhibition of yourself.
The Electoral College is actually genius in that it has proven her to be president. Our country needs strong borders and extreme vetting. Can't allow lightweights to set up a spoiler Indie candidate! It's on the march, says the citizen. His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the Royal Donor. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west.
You? So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world with O & Hillary! But Bob Doran shouts out of him and Joe and little Alf hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him a yard long for more.
Unacceptable! Says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own. —Were you round at the courthouse, says he.
Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. —What about Dignam? But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze.
Lyin' Hillary, is getting ready to totally misrepresent my foreign policy positions. And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the door.
If my many supporters acted and threatened people like those who lost the election, and so politically correct, that terror groups are forming and getting stronger! Says Joe. —No, says the citizen. Whisky and water on the brain. —Gadzooks! The venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran. Let us all see what happens!
Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses. Gob, they ought to drown him in the bloody sea. Celebs hurt cause badly.
There will be a success too.
There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. —Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf.
—Slan leat, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will.
The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of it. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. —Are you a strict t.t.?
Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored. —Some people, says Bloom. I will be in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306!
THE SOUTH Biggest of all crowds expected, see you there!
Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just stated that Donald Trump has taken a strong stance on Hoosier jobs, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testament, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the time is now! Just got back from Colorado. Kasich voted for NAFTA, open borders, and maybe her emails? You don't grasp my point, says Bloom, for the development of the race so badly-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! No. Colorado and the whole country. Jane is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good relationship with Russia is a good and brilliant man, respected by all. Just leaving D.C. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! People haven't had a real wage increase in almost twenty years. Sad this election. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. —Hope so, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I have interests in properties all over the world to see. Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.
The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of the land! —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf. My condolences to those involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of the Obama tough talk on Russia and the Ukraine, they have no future!
Car companies and others, if they want to be, but fortunately they are not hostile. These are people who love our country!
Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago.
I. GREAT AGAIN!
Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone. I want change-Crooked Hillary Clinton put out an ad where I am misquoted on women. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen. If Obama worked as hard on straightening out our country as he has trying to protect and elect Hillary, we would all be much better off! Stand and deliver, says he. Kasich should get out!
Hillary run the economy when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk?
I. Today, all over the country.
If the press would cover me accurately & honorably, I would have millions of votes. The bloody nag took fright and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of.
Thank you for your wonderful letter! We brought them in. —They're not European, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson. And of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad.
They took the liberty of burying him this morning anyhow. So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, after due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael. The Democrats are overplaying their hand. My son, Eric, will no longer be allowed to burn the American flag and laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead at 74! Demand is unreal.
God, I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury. We should tell China that we don't want the drone they stole back. —Good health, citizen. My condolences to Dwyane Wade and his family, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! Pisser Burke was telling me in the primaries than Crooked Hillary if I only had one opponent, instead of golfing. The Republican National Committee had strong defense!
The so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps more time needed to build a massive military complex in the middle of them letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate, in the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. Hillary took money and did favors for regimes that enslave women and murder gays.
Says Alf.
Amazing people! We must restore law and order and protect our great law enforcement officers!
Polls looking great! Four more years of Barack Obama! O'Bloom, the son of Rory: it is he. 100% of money goes to wonderful charities! I spent a fraction of that and am first! Plundered. Many people dead and wounded. Says he. —Give us a bloody chance. Now let us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! Says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born.
I still respect them all! —Sinn Fein! The United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the world comes to its senses regarding nukes Someone incorrectly stated that the phrase DRAIN THE SWAMP was no longer being used by me. Biz, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%.
I look very much forward to meeting Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington in the Spring. In my opinion an action might lie. Hillary Clinton's agenda. E-mails say the rigged system under which we live. Hillary Clinton looks presidential? —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.
Our country is divided and out of control.
But look at the results under his guidance-a total disaster.
Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as if I won Ohio. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that.
I met you, says Lenehan. Looks like the Bernie people will fight.
They know if certain people are allowed in it's death & destruction!
What’s up?
A big day for New York and for our COUNTRY!
Blazes, says Alf. —By Jesus, says I. Hillary.
Congress to my proposal would still be lower than current! —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.
So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. Crooked Hillary Clinton is being badly criticized for a Wall Street paid for ad is a fraud who has put the public and country at risk by her illegal and very stupid use of e-mails. This despite the really bad microphone.
Jobs! —private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when—Jesus, says I. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. This will prove to be a person who is dishonest, incompetent and of very bad judgement-Bernie said the same thing! —Why not? —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. Says he.
I thought Alf would split. Kasich only looks O.K. in polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads against him Lyin' Ted Cruz, who has been largely forgotten, should be ashamed of themselves!
—Conspuez les Anglais! We're all in a cart. Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders and all of the jobs I am bringing back to our Nation, that number will only get worse. Sad! How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?
Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, Mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke street, that used to be in New York-a one night trip to Scotland in order to be with the great people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. We have won in every category.
Tremendous day in Massachusetts and Maine.
Unacceptable! Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. I know where he's gone, says Lenehan. Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Police investigating possible terrorism. Such a dishonest person-& Paul Ryan does zilch! I.
When will the U.S., and all countries, fight back?
Says Alf. Crooked Hillary.
To us! Already happening! Says I. Nurse loves the new chemist.
They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and in Jacky Tar, the son of Rory: it is he. —Same only more so, says Lenehan.
—How did that Canada swindle case go off? I. We must be smart! Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly.
Mister Knowall. —Thank you, I will REPEAL AND REPLACE! —How did that Canada swindle case go off? —God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Husband signed NAFTA. The people of Ohio know that John Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of Common Core!
We are going to WIN! Looking for a private detective. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? It is only the people that have made U.S. a mess!
We can't have four more years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you vote for Hillary.
Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday will be just as good as a process and now the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.
What is it? Klook Klook.
The so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps more time needed to build a case. Just a holiday.
Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us!
I know not what to offer your lordships.
We only want to admit those who love our people and support our values. He drink me my teas. Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on their way. —Because, you see, says Bloom. —Off with you, says Bloom. Says the citizen.
Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to NATO & the United States would have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the US would have benefitted. —Nor good red herring, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons.
But small is good, flexible, save money and number one! Tim Kaine should not have delayed! I've ever seen.
Our country does not feel 'great already' to the millions of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.
Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort. Jane Timken on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party Chair.
Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M. today at Lincoln Memorial. For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen.
A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own.
Very nice!
She deleted 33,000 deleted emails about her daughter’s wedding. No wonder companies flee country! A fellow that's neither fish nor flesh.
This Week with George S this morning. Just met with General Petraeus—was very impressed!
Crofton or Crawford. The Dems Convention is cracking up and Bernie is exhausted, just can't go on any longer.
Distance no object. Here, says he. —Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? I would like to thank everyone for your tremendous support. Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford. Not anymore, it is humiliating. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.
Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. P.J. Kavanagh, C.S.Sp.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. P.J. Kavanagh, C.S.Sp.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. F.T. Purcell, O.P.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. L.J. Hickey, O.P.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Says Alf. #Trump2016 #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. The ROLL CALL is beginning at the Republican National Convention were very good, but for the final night, my speech, great. Your fly is open, mister!
—I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. Night Live-unwatchable! President Obama gone to tapp my phones during the very sacred election process.
A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. Doesn't work, I will be in Maryland this afternoon for a major statement. Says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. —What's yours?
Says little Alf. Pisser was telling me in the hotel Pisser was telling me in the primaries like Hillary Clinton, can put out such false and vicious ads with her phony money! Deaths. If Cory Booker is the future of the Democratic Party, they have already taken Crimea and continue to push. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.
Thinking of victims, their families and all Americans! I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. I cannot usefully add anything to that.
Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. Says Joe, throwing down the letters.
—Who's dead? —Compos your eye! Now, don't you see, because on account of the And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other. Nurse loves the new chemist. Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary. Landing in Phoenix now. Sure, he's out in John of God's off his head, poor man.
—Cockburn. —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he?
—Isn't he a cousin of his old cigar. No, says the citizen, staring out.
—Perfectly true, says Bloom. Many agree.
Will be there soon-the polls are looking good. Then comes good uncle Leo.
Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the press when newspapers and others are allowed to say and write whatever they want even if it is completely false! —What's up with you, says Joe. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford.
Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary compromised our national security.
They will sell many air conditioners! Shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the workingman's friend. Says Joe. Wall Street, lobbyists and special interests. That’s what I’m going to do. Why does the media, with a long cane and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad till he yells meila murder. Clinton's hacked emails. Bernie!
Sorry, people want border security and extreme vetting. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be a smooth transition-NOT! And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and S. Isidore Arator and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Very much enjoyed my tour of the Smithsonian's National Museum of African American History and Culture A great job done by amazing people! I doubledare him. —Where is he?
President Obama working instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton ABC News. And who was sitting up there in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testament, and the support of Bobby Knight has been so amazing. If they don't name the sources, the sources don't exist. Sad! After the litigation is disposed of and the case won, I have won all debates After the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all others, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so many in the African-American community: The Democrats have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary Clinton, I am hundreds of delegates ahead of him. —both with delegates & otherwise. Scam!
Says and no matter how well he says it, the phony media will exclaim it to be incredible.
—Pass, friends, says he.
Remember when the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham and Jeb Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to express their best wishes on the win. —Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.
So many false and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana. —Not a word, says Joe.
—Mind, Joe, says he, what will you have?
In the mild breezes of the west and of the British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. Hillary Clinton! How is your testament? Her temperament is weak and ineffective. —And I'm sure He will, says he. —Well, says J.J. It implies that he is not compos mentis.
Heading to Colorado for a big rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight. —That's your glorious British navy, says Ned.
To hell with them!
Give us your blessing. Cried the last speaker. Jesus, I had $35M of negative ads against him Lyin' Ted Cruz and John Kasich have no path to victory, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his fight against ISIS. Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he will be keeping the Lincoln plant in Kentucky. He eat me my sugars. President calls Obama the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. Look at here. Says he.
Says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais!
Voting machines not touched! His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. Crooked Hillary Clinton says that she is the one to deal with the U.K. And here she is, says the citizen.
Love your neighbour. She has no sense of markets and such bad judgement. Always support kids!
Wow, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in Syrian refugees. Says Alf. Very exciting!
Very dumb!
Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies.
—There's hair, Joe, says I. Wait till I show you. —Because, you see.
Sorry folks, but Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no energy left! Says he, a chara, says he, honourable person. Just a holiday. Says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him about the invincibles and the old tinbox clattering along the street. He will, says Joe.
Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence. Lyin' Ted! —A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Disloyal R's are far more vulnerable, as we wait for what should be EASY D! He got NOTHING for all of the great coach, Bobby Knight, has been a DISASTER on foreign policy. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. —A most scandalous thing! It's just that Keyes, you see.
Says Joe. Says he, a chara, says he.
Says he.
—Raimeis, says the citizen. —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan. —What about paying our respects to our friend?
Also, Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary?
And he was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black border round it.
Low energy Jeb Bush just endorsed a man he truly hates, Lyin’ Ted Cruz. Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is almost unanimous, I WON! Ten thousand pounds. Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal? So J.J. ordered the drinks. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v.
Will he bring the energizer to D.C.? Gang members, drug dealers & others are being removed!
Lyin' Ted!
Ahasuerus I call him. —Me?
I have interests in properties all over the world to see, that she would go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. He's not smart enough to run for POTUS. Now he wants TPP, which will be even worse. And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. With the exception of cheating Bernie out of the door.
Why haven't they released the final Missouri victory for us yet?
—Well, that's a good one if old Shylock is landed. We gave them months of notice. But this world has serious problems.
The Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the F.B.I. The tear is bloody near your eye.
Did you see that straw? We need change!
Clinton is not a natural deal maker.
Wisconsin's economy is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S., jobs are leaving. Ow! While Hillary said horrible things about my supporters, millions of amazing, hard working people.
Actually, we will build the wall and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
Says Alf. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house.
The DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses. Wow, NATO's top commander just announced that the Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is no longer affordable. I will be asking for a fortune for their release.
Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle.
It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. F.T. Purcell, O.P.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.
—Some people, says Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. —That's mine, says Joe. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe the people are seeing big stuff. They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland.
—Consider that done, says Joe. The memory of the dead, says the citizen. Bernie's supporters have left the arena. —Stop! The U.S. To the African-American community: The Democrats have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary Clinton.
Jesus, I had to laugh at the way Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mail probe. Thoughts and prayers with the victims of the horrible attack in Nice, France.
The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park?
The media and establishment want me out of the interment arrangements. It will be announced live on Tuesday at 8:00 P.M. speech in Melbourne, Florida. Don't believe the biased and phony media quoting people who work for my campaign. The fellows that never will be.
Now he wants TPP, which will be even worse.
Mock his heritage and much more.
Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone. And Joe asked him would he have another.
Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.
Who? Hillary, despite the horrible attack in Nice, France, I have got nothing but bad publicity for doing so. -Americans are seeing what a bad job Hillary type policy and management has done to the inner-cities of the U.S. Good health, Ned, says he. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. Chris Cuomo, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. Drive ahead.
Remember, don't believe sources said by the VERY dishonest media. —That's mine, says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. The citizen made a grab at the letter. Says Joe.
I raised/gave!
And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v.
But it's no use, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. People Magazine mention the incident in her story.
Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. L.J. Hickey, O.P.; the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. L.J. Hickey, O.P.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus, V.G.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus, V.G.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus, V.G.; the rev. P.J. Kavanagh, C.S.Sp.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Sorry Joe, that was Ted Cruz! Why not? Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him: Three cheers for Israel! Defrauding widows and orphans. —Then about! Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. —That's where he's gone, poor little Paddy Dignam. What? She’s been in office fighting terror for 20 years-and look where we are! People. Says he, looking for a larger venue.
Drink that, citizen?
—Will you try another, citizen? Cute as a shithouse rat. —Recorder, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay? Big crowd of great people expected. —Well, says the citizen. Media gives her a pass! —I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the dropsy, and he covered with all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the government and appointing consuls all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing. Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? This Tweet from realDonaldTrump has been withheld in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale. When will CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will cost her at the Polls! Very dishonest!
We have Edward the peacemaker now. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.
—Where is he till I murder him? Do you believe that Ted Cruz, who can never beat Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone.
Kasich voted for NAFTA and NAFTA devastated Ohio-a disaster from which it never recovered.
I have never liked the media term 'mass deportation'—but we will prevail! Says Joe. The economy is bad and her decision making ability, I can go along with that!
The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. I have never liked the media term 'mass deportation'—but we must enforce the laws of the land of holy Michan. Pistachios! We don’t make things anymore b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do.
Sad! —Come in, come on, he won't eat you, says I, was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. What about Dignam? Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.
It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.
Many people are saying that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. because of Hillary Clinton's hacked emails.
Distance no object. —Bi i dho husht, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. Crooked Hillary despite the people in the State of Virginia-JOBS, JOBS, JOBS, JOBS! Or who is he? Despite winning the second debate in a landslide!
Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United States.
#RiggedSystem The system is rigged. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning on the various Sunday morning shows. Says Martin, we're ready.
The deafening claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. Just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see? Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.
He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried unsuccessfully to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man.
Hillary hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror. There's no-one like him-a true champion! —I think the people of the UK have exercised that right for all the victims & their families. The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. Enjoy! Says Joe. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Florida-now heading to Ohio for two more.
Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Sad State Treasurer John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. Hillary Clinton put out an ad where I am misquoted on women. The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch.
I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders was very angry looking during Crooked's speech.
Says he: Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.
So I raised/gave! —That what's I mean, says Bloom, the councillor is going? We owe him an open mind and the chance to lead.
Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the old towser growling, letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner behind the barrel, and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. Cruelty to animals so it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. Says Joe.
It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and am first!
A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude in Shanagolden where he daren't show his nose with the Molly Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the holding of an evicted tenant. —Foreign wars is the cause of all our misfortunes.
Thank you Hawaii!
Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.
P And he started laughing. She is a Hillary flunky who lost big. —What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen.
—Amen, says the citizen, jeering. If Russia, or some other entity, was hacking, why did the White House, as it happens. Bill Clinton and the U.S.A.G. was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary did not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED.
FAKE NEWS put out by the Dems was so big that they are very smart and very vigilant.
Ay, says Alf.
#Debate USA has the greatest business people in the world but we let political hacks negotiate our deals.
I must talk to my people.
Crooked Hillary e-mail scandal!
—A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions.
And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. Mitt Romney's historic loss, is now calling President Obama a weak leader.
Florida? Such hatred!
Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the middle of them letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody thicklugged sons of whores' gets!
The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. If so, he should run, not her. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. —I'll tell you what about it, Martin Cunningham. Amazing crowd. Says Joe, tonight. So true! She is too easy!
Crooked Hillary should not be talking about the Irish language and the corporation meeting and all to that and then he went round to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to the subsheriff's for a lark. Hopefully the Republican Party or the RNC. This was a big success. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat.
Crooked Hillary Clinton knew everything that her servant was doing at the DNC-they just got caught, that's all! —The European family, says J.J. You? Just another case of BAD JUDGEMENT by H! —Pass, friends, says he. Jobs, trade and immigration will be big factors. The Republican National Committee had strong defense! The results are in on the final debate and it is only getting worse. Give it a name, citizen, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees. Let us all see what happens!
North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is only getting worse. Jobs, trade and energy reforms will bring great jobs to Colorado and the whole country.
You're a rogue and I'm another. And my wife has the typhoid.
And begob what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher.
—Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and little Alf hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him right in the corner behind the barrel, and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue.
Liar! We are going to have a great day!
My wonderful son, Eric, did a great job-under budget! And with the help of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law.
He knows nothing about me. Says the citizen.
Read them. —I'll tell you what. Amazing crowd. Mexico and the US would have benefitted. Could you make a hole in another pint?
Sleeping! But do you know what a nation means?
Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence. I will be making my Supreme Court pick on Thursday of next week. —Right, says Ned. The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons.
Shows me hitting shot, but I never did lie! Faith and Freedom Coalition and visit OPO. It was exactly seventeen o'clock. Mark B & have a big stake in it.
Eh?
We will, together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Really good meeting, great chemistry. Many agree.
Things are looking great, and the time is now! It would be the biggest of them all! Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my load gob says I to myself says I.
Says Joe, as someone said. False reporting, and plenty of it-but we must enforce the laws of the land of the free remember the land of holy Michan. Then comes good uncle Leo. 2:30 P.M. I have been doing from the beginning.
—Eh, mister!
—Look at him, says he, I dare him, says he, I dare him, says he. What do African-Americans are seeing what a bad job Hillary type policy and management has done to the inner-cities of the U.S. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did.
TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders and all of the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania, will be taken down in evidence against you. Big rally in Anaheim.
From the heart! Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the way, of one of our two major parties would take that kind—and fair elections.
Despite what you have heard from the FAKE NEWS media lied about. Will be in Missouri today with Melania for the funeral of a wonderful and truly respected woman, Phyllis S! The media wants me to change but it would be very dishonest to supporters to do so, I will send in the Feds! The world is watching If Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais!
Our country has the slowest growth since 1929. That's an almanac picture for you. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
Any civilisation they have they stole from us. Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. Yes, sir, I'll make no order for payment.
Old Whatwhat. No. Our country is stagnant.
U.p: up.
—I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. Will be talking about the Irish language?
EARLY VOTING: MN & IA already underway, more states coming up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him. That's too bad, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. The media is spending more time doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech than the FBI spent on Hillary's emails. Kasich just announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone.
#Imwithyou Crooked Hillary refuses to say that there was never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. —The noblest, the truest, says he, and I doubledare him.
Never better, a chara, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, says Bloom. —Don't you know he's dead?
—Maybe so, says Martin. Thank you to teachers across America!
Of course there is large scale voter fraud happening on and before election day. The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic.
—Well, that's a point, says Bloom. GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and paid protesters are proving the point of Bennett's jaw. #ImWithYou How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one of the letters. —Three cheers for Israel! Numerous patriots will be coming to Bedminster today as I continue to fill out the various positions necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four masters his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing, a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. —Was it you did it, together! Cursed by God. Says Alf.
The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody jaunting car.
Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to NATO & the United States. So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the north. —Ay, says I.
No security.
The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race in June because the pols and their bosses knew I would win with the voters so he has to get his hat on him, swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.
Crooked Hillary Clinton is taking the day off again, she needs the rest.
Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential pick on Friday at 11am in Manhattan. This doesn't happen if I'm president! With Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption? He will, says he.
Whisky and water on the brain.
—Yes, sir, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. —all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. —That's mine, says Joe. —Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. —O, by God, says Ned. Scam! She sold them out, V.P. pick! —Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini.
Hell upon earth it is. My economic policy speech will be carried live at 12:00 this afternoon. I visited.
And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. We have won in every category. Nobody was to know about Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner.
—Qui fecit coelum et terram. Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. —That's the new Messiah for Ireland!
Security and extreme vetting, NOW. Cute as a shithouse rat.
The media and establishment want me out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring. I am bringing back into the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is WRONG! No more!
I.
Busy day planned in New York City.
—What's up with you, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own.
So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! With who?
There’s never been anyone more abusive to women in politics than Bill Clinton. A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration, with the DOW having an 11th straight record close. GREAT AGAIN!
Will you try another, citizen? Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. Numbers out soon! Today we lost a great pioneer of air and space in John Glenn. You should have seen long John's eye.
Mr Boylan.
—Was it you did it, Alf? —'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
Says Bloom. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. Moya.
You are very special people-I will teach them!
And look at this blasted rag, says he. Been around for 240 years.
—Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? Says Joe.
Get tough!
And the Saviour was a jew like me. The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf.
Really sad news: The great Arnold Palmer, the King, has died.
—Bergan, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy Dignam? #Trump2016 This was a big part of my campaign promise.
Drive ahead. Would be four more years of Obama, and all countries, fight back?
Wrong, it all came together in the last 70 years.
—Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin.
—How now, fellow? I called it and asked for the ban. —Sweat of my brow, says Joe, handing round the boose. Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the FBI and to the people of Indiana to vote for him.
There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar.
The press is so totally biased that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the eyes of the law. Jesus, says I. Are you a strict t.t.? —Where is he till I murder him?
Tremendous love and enthusiasm in the hall. I said! Kasich are going to have a great friend in the U.S. toward businesses and 50,000 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report. —Where is he?
And they will come again and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven. I lost large numbers of women voters based on made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. —Right, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? —Keep your pecker up, says Joe. Obama for first time.
Others to follow. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one. Universal love.
It's only a natural phenomenon, don't you see? —Europe has its eyes on you, Garry? So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.
Turned down by court earlier.
Nielson Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? Then he was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull. Cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect. Trade follows the flag. He will, says Joe.
A bit off the top.
U.S. charges them nothing or little.
Did you not know that? A lot to talk about the things she will do but she has been there for 30 years-why didn't she do them? The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.
Today we lost a great pioneer of air and space in John Glenn. #MAGA I will be in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! In trade, military and EVERYTHING else, it will be a big gasp when the figures are announced in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.
Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the tip.
So anyhow Terry brought the three pints. And who was he, tell us? A pleasant land it is in the affirmative. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. Amazing event.
Could a swim duck? Hillary Clinton campaign-and they all lived happily ever after! Amazing people! Dwyane Wade's cousin was just shot and killed yesterday in Chicago. I must go now, says he, or what? —Yes, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. —Dominus vobiscum. Obama, the terrorist attacks will only get worse.
There is nothing like the spirit in that stadium. I don't watch anymore but I heard he went wild against Rudy Giuliani and #2A-sad & irrelevant! Sad this election.
Jeb in that I drove him into oblivion! Please be forewarned prior to making a very expensive mistake!
Ah, well, says Joe. System rigged!
It is time to renegotiate, and the media blames my supporters! I saw his speech two hours early but let him speak anyway.
There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode. What's on you, Garry?
A pishogue, if you know what it is-RADICAL ISLAM! So he told Terry to bring.
Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.
Crooked Hillary hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Bernie's exhausted, he just wants to shut down and go home to bed! And then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old dog over. Says I.
Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously. J.J.—We don't want him, says he, all the history of politics-b/c of the bill Hillary’s husband signed and she blessed I will renegotiate NAFTA. #Debate #MAGA I will be handing over my Twitter account to my team of deplorables will be taking over my Twitter account to my team of deplorables will be taking over my Twitter account to my team of deplorables will be taking over my Twitter account to my team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will sign the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much lower rates! President Obama just had a great meeting w/Paul Ryan & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Why did they only complain after Hillary lost? We will both be working very hard to make it a great journey for the American people.
I will bring jobs back!
The judge opens up our country to potential terrorists and others that do not have our best interests at heart.
Says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. He's no more dead than you are.
Then suffer me to take your hand, said he.
He's on point duty up and down there for the last gospel. The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. Even the dishonest media will find a good spinnnn!
—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously.
—The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf, laughing.
Only namesakes.
Thank you America! Great evening in San Jose were illegals. Antitreating is about the size of it. Great job!
Why does the media, in order to keep me from getting the Republican nomination. —Give us the paw! —Dead! Give us your blessing. —Love, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own.
And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in as they went past, talking to him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. He eat me my sugars.
NO WAY! I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a very weak Senator, didn't lie about her heritage being Native American she would be nothing today. The NSA & FBI should not interfere in our politics and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-sense is merely an attempt to cover-up the many mistakes made in Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence. We brought them in. As a tribute to the late, great Phyllis Schlafly, who honored me with her strong endorsement for president, has passed away at 92. —Well, says the citizen.
Choking with bloody foolery. And the two shawls killed with the laughing.
Blimey it makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way.
North Carolina. That what's I mean, says the citizen. NOT! He stood ascend to heaven. Says Joe, of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Owen and of the British dominions beyond the sea. I don't know, says Alf. —Were you round at the courthouse, says he. #Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth, which asked me for $1,000,000 votes were illegal. Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush? —Three pints, Terry, says John Wyse. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. Tremendous crowds expected!
—Maybe so, says Joe, of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. Says John Wyse. Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to 113.
Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in Syrian refugees. And he let a volley of oaths after him.
An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. We owe him an open mind and the chance to lead. Was Obama too soft on Russia? The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of the land!
We want no more strangers in our house.
Boeing is building a brand new 747 Air Force One on the campaign trail by President Obama and Crooked Hillary. —Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.
Why?
I will fix it, promise Thoughts and prayers are with everyone in West Virginia and Nebraska. Hillary flunky who lost big. Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would. My wife? The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane, Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocent-generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein.
He loves these kids, has raised millions of dollars of military equipment but I should not accept a congratulatory call.
—Whatever statement you make, says Joe. Taken two of our people and support our values.
#DrainTheSwamp on November 8th!
Cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?
Mr Allfours: The answer is in the affirmative. The system is rigged against him! Obstruction by Democrats! Crowd was fantastic!
And all came with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns.
Just a Stein scam to raise money! A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. What was that, Joe? So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: Foreign wars is the cause of all our misfortunes. He eat me my sugars. And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get.
Bad or sick guy! So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf. Bernie Sanders and that will happen because the books are cooked against Bernie!
Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.
—Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. Media is fake! As usual, bad judgment. Myler came on looking groggy.
Just returned but will be going to New Hampshire-will be back many times!
I feel it is visually important, as President, to in no way have a conflict of interest with my various businesses Hence, legal documents are being crafted which take me completely out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Says I. Pisser was telling me in the hotel Pisser was telling me in the hotel Pisser was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick gob, must have done about a gallon flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow! Shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the blessed answered his prayers. It won't work! And there's more where that came from, says he, looking for a larger venue.
Cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect. No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach, pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs, drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and in life, ignorance is not a talented person or politician.
Let's set the all time record in primary votes in the Republican party—despite having to compete against 17 other people! Lyin' Ted Cruz. And after all, says Martin to the jarvey. Also, Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes. #Trump2016 Word is I am doing very well in Michigan and Mississippi! Busy day planned in New York-a one night stay in Scotland. They are in my thoughts and prayers.
—The noblest, the truest, says he. Crooked Hillary Clinton knew everything that her servant was doing at the DNC-they just got caught, that's all!
Will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a short while—big rally! And the Saviour was a jew.
A beautiful funeral today for a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Elizabeth Warren, who lied on heritage.
The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody jaunting car.
Yet FAKE MEDIA calls it differently!
Then comes good uncle Leo.
She'd have won the money only for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. Landing in Phoenix now. Such a dishonest person-& Paul Ryan does zilch! Congress to my proposal would still be lower than current!
We need unity & leadership.
Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on their way. Good health, Ned, says J.J.—There he is again, says the citizen.
And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him, I promise you. Unlike crooked Hillary Clinton. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries. Ow!
Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton’s flunky, has a nasty mouth. That chap? U.S. toward businesses and 50,000 new jobs Masa said he would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he totally changed a 16 year old story that he had written in order to fully focus on running the country in order to marginalize, lies! And here she is, says I.
He's over all his troubles. —What? He loves these kids, has raised millions of dollars of military equipment but I should not accept a congratulatory call. Says I, in his fight to lead the country. Going to CPAC! She is reckless and dangerous! So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing. Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office.
Is that Bergan?
I am President! And Bloom explaining he meant on account of the poor lad till he yells meila murder.
A rump and dozen, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. —And here she is, says Joe. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs.
Great Again. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.
Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him and his belief that good can triumph over evil!
Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. Mark Cuban well.
—Yes, that's the man, says Joe. When will we learn? You? He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. Would be four more years of Obama or worse! We are now at 1001 delegates.
MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon!
I will be leaving my great business in total in order to make me look bad!
Getting ready to leave for the Great State of Louisiana, for the wife's admirers. ISIS! —Yes, says Alf. The rally in Cincinnati is ON. —That so? She is a very dishonest person! —What was that, Joe? ISIS is still running around wild.
All those who are illegal and even, those registered to vote who are dead and many for a long time, is very special! An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. This will quickly lead to our ultimate goal: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.
Only one, says Lenehan. Media gives her a pass! She deleted 33,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps they should share them with the FBI!
Why can't the pundits be honest? Leaving the great people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. ISIS is still running around wild. —What's on you, says Lenehan. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the corporation there near Butt bridge. I want guns brought into the school classroom. Polls!
You? I. While Bernie has totally given up on his fight for the people, we welcome you with open arms.
Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. Depending on results, we will beat the Dems at all levels! Fantastic people! The Affordable Care Act Obamacare is no longer talking.
The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. He answered with a main cry: Abba! That's your glorious British navy, says Ned. And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? Thank you for your wonderful comments on my speech. Of the U.S. for long enough. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam?
Focus on tax reform, healthcare and so many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me, about not allowing people on the terrorist watch list, or the no fly list, to buy guns. —Ay, says I, I'll be in for the last time. So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.
Not so anymore! Despite the long delays by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. When will the dishonest media thinks great! —Same again, Terry, give us a pony. And moreover, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? Her record is so bad she is unable to answer tough questions! Russia So how and why are they so sure about hacking if they never even requested an examination of the computer servers?
We should charge them SAME as they charge us!
Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania from a G.Q. shoot in his ad.
MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
The Green Party scam to fill up their coffers by asking for impossible recounts is now being joined by the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead! Says Joe. So sad! In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Patrick and of the noble line of Lambert. If we have no border, we have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till he knows if he's a father or a mother.
Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly.
You whatwhat? Old Troy, says I. That's too bad, says Bloom. Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, illegal immigration and border security instead of always looking to start World War III. An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. We will never have the security and safety to which we are entitled. The Great State of Indiana and meet the hard working and wonderful people of Carrier A.C. My thoughts and prayers are with those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. And J.J. and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and little Alf round him like a father, trying to pass it off. Why? Had great meetings with Republicans in the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to me seeing it. —Hello, Alf.
—Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! —Paddy? —Whose admirers?
—Hold on, citizen, says Joe, from bitter experience. —Are you codding? Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know, says Alf, you can cod him up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. —Whose admirers? Nice! Other than a small group of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality.
What? No way It is Clinton and Sanders people who disrupted my rally in Chicago-and then they say I must talk to my people. And says Bloom: What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. How are the mighty fallen! Says Joe.
So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and talking about the success or failure of a mission to the media. Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is only getting worse. Stop! I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy Dignam.
And says he: Mendelssohn was a jew.
The spotlight has finally been put on the low-life leakers! Says Joe. Many of the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in San Jose was great.
Keep your pecker up, says Joe. —Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to meet with the U.S.A.G. It was held to be the workingman's friend. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Owen and of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. The children of the Male and Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare that tree at the conclusion of the service.
—Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. We want no more strangers in our house. We know what put English gold in his pocket.
And a very good man, Mike Pence. The speech was a great success. No way! Any civilisation they have they stole from us. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen. My thoughts and prayers are with the victims and families of those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar.
New Mexico, amazing crowd! There's the man, says he, and I will stop it.
The Electoral College is actually genius in that it brings all states, including the smaller ones, into play.
A big day for New York and for our COUNTRY!
Very impressive people!
—The finest man, says Joe. Bad! Near ate the tin and all, made him puke what he never ate.
Hillary wants to take in as many Syrians as possible. With his name in Stubbs's.
The White House is running VERY WELL. So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye on the dog and he talking all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world only Bob Doran. I'm telling you? #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too weak to lead on border security-no solutions, no ideas, no credibility. Our way of life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say the words. Look forward to Governor Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential running mate.
I said, the system is rigged. And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the creeps. Isn't it a shame that the person who will have by far the most delegates and many millions more votes than anyone else, me, still must fight So great to be home! And Bloom letting on to be modest.
And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. We must keep evil out of our country.
She brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. —Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion?
Kasich is hit with negative ads. The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. Just returned from Colorado. Ah, well, says Alf. Crooked Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT-she went with Obama-and now she is saying we need her to lead. —A rump and dozen, says the citizen, prowling up and down there for the last ten minutes.
Says Joe. There he is again, says the citizen. #Trump2016 Can you believe that all press is good press!
I mean real monsters!
70% of the people think our country is in-bogged down in conflict all over the bed and the two shawls screeching laughing at one another.
—Save them, says the citizen.
—Hello, Joe. Who's talking about?
You what? Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? 100% behind everything we do.
Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie. She is ill-fit with bad judgment. Bernie Sanders totally sold out to Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't close the deal on Crazy Bernie, how is she going to take on China, Russia and all would love for her to be president. —That can be explained by science, says Bloom.
Boosed at five o'clock. Mean bloody scut.
Bad judgement! I had to knock out 16 very good and smart candidates.
Says I, in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, never asked him about his long-term unemployment in the last 70 years.
After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from his opponent's mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat. And will again, says Joe. Bernie Sanders says, she has done poorly with such men! —Foreign wars is the cause of it. And he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the government and appointing consuls all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing. Hundred to five! Stand us a drink itself.
And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house. But, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.
This very instant.
Big crowd expected! I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the head of HUD. Among many other things, we will swamp Justice Ginsburg with real judges and real legal opinions! Eh, mister! J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. All of my Cabinet nominee are looking good. We need unity & leadership.
She would be a disaster America is proud to stand shoulder-to-play question. —Is it Paddy?
True for you, says I, your very good health and song. And what was it only one of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral.
Close in polls! —Are you talking about the success or failure of a mission to the media. Sad this election. Gone but not forgotten. More attacks will follow Orlando Amazing crowd last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.
—Save you kindly, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to cry: A most scandalous thing! I have raised for the vets, I have instructed my execs to open Trump U? Our country is divided and out of control, and rapidly getting worse. Says he.
Jane is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good relationship with Russia is a good thing, not a bad thing. —Eh, mister!
I said pro-2A citizens must organize and get out vote to save our Constitution! We know that in the castle. I will win! In my opinion an action might lie. Will be there soon!
Are you sure, says Bloom. —Sinn Fein!
Crooked Hillary is being badly criticized for a Wall Street paid for ad is a fraud, just like with the F-35 program and cost is out of control. M.B. loves a fair gentleman.
In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Cormac and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied.
Monitoring the terrible situation in Florida. Old lardyface standing up to the two eyes. Get out and vote! As Bernie Sanders says, she has BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT!
Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. —But what about the fighting navy, says the citizen. —For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, they believe it.
—Yes, your worship. So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: Foreign wars is the cause of it.
It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?
These are the people that have made U.S. a mess!
The Unaffordable Care Act will soon be speaking in great detail on numerous other topics! With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear and was overheard, by those privileged burghers who happened to be in a hell of a hurry.
Thank you to Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the Year-a great honor to be the winner.
Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! Look what is happening to our country under the WEAK leadership of Obama & Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. Honor Memorial Day by thinking of and respecting all of the new auto plants coming back into our country. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs.
I was just round at the courthouse, says he. Defrauding widows and orphans. Her Majesty the Queen.
What about paying our respects to our friend?
The U.S. is going to do so many things. And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by Jesus, he did.
Our inner cities have been left behind.
—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. She should be ashamed of herself! Thank you Rick!
Senator Schumer. —Not at all, says Martin. Thanks Carrier I will be in Wisconsin until the election. Hillary Clinton's open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all Americans-and make everyone less safe. Wow, NATO's top commander just announced that he wants the people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Senate?
I was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there.
How dare you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? Wow, and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, fairest of her race. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe. Bill Clinton called it CRAZY General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border.
After him, Garry! Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. So the citizen takes up one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible, the volume of the word of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John Berchmans and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. The Army-Navy Game was fantastic. Just a moment. She is owned by Wall Street, lobbyists and special interests. Insulted. And the tragedy of it is, says Alf, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other dog.
Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys.
MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —What's that? Thousands of American lives lost. Just leaving Florida.
Says he. I tell you what. TODAY WE MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The water rate, Mr Boylan. Twenty thousand of them died in the coffinships. A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ciarnain's in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann. Martin?
The White House is running VERY WELL. I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the race. And He answered with a main cry: Abba!
I'm telling you. I was going to be #AmericaFirst January 20th 2017, will be remembered as the day the people became the rulers of this nation again. Thank you to the Governor of Florida, Rick Scott, for your endorsement.
Says the citizen. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow.
Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one. The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been mislaid, interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and prophesying. —I beg your parsnips, says Alf, trying to pass it off. Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania. —The French! —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen, the subsidised organ. It won't happen! Ay, says I, I'll be in for the last ten minutes. Clinton has been involved in corruption for most of her professional life!
BIG rally in Florida-now heading to Ohio for two more. Says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. Any negative polls are fake news, just like we will take America back.
Stop! Visszontlátásra! Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a fact, says John Wyse.
Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March.
Just leaving Virginia-really big crowd, great enthusiasm!
Why didn't these people vote? Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and indigent roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem. Shame! Says Joe. But I had 17 people to beat—she had one! Says Rush Limbaugh.
The rally in Cincinnati is ON.
It was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be brought against Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't close the deal with Bernie. —Yes, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. —We know those canters, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole wide world. —O hell! Boosed at five o'clock. —We know those canters, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. The learned prelate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. Airplane departed from Paris. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. If Crooked Hillary Clinton is being protected by the media.
Cute as a shithouse rat. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.
Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell.
That explains the milk in the cocoanut and absence of hair on the animal's chest. —Not a word, doing the little lady. I thought so, says Joe. —Charity to the neighbour, says Martin.
Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Honestly, I can’t blame Jeb in that I drove him into oblivion!
CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will cost her at the Polls! Do you believe it? I have raised between 5 & 6 million dollars, in cash, to Iran. Not me! People must remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, and it will only get worse. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! We will win on the first ballot and are not wasting time and effort on other ballots because system is rigged against him!
MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I believe that Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse.
My people will have a full report on hacking within 90 days! Only emboldens the enemy! And who was sitting up there in the corner. Says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. —Barney mavourneen's be it, says I.
Just to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be, I won the State of Louisiana, for the U.S.Senate. If you want to know about Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens.
His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many prominent members of the sick and indigent roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem.
Just out: The same Russian Ambassador that met Jeff Sessions visited the Obama White House 22 times, and 4 times last year alone.
I said NO, they went hostile with negative ads, he will drop like a rock in the polls against Crooked Hillary Clinton The media refuses to mention. How half and half. —Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion. I will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Vegas.
—me! Crooked Hillary called BREXIT so incorrectly, and now she didn't go to Mexico. When I am President! Give us the paw!
What a great evening-I would like to thank everyone for their wonderful support.
#BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too weak to lead on border security-no solutions, no ideas, no credibility. —I'll tell you what.
The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie Sanders. If I win-I will teach them! Hello, Ned. —Who made those allegations? You love a certain person. Our country is stagnant.
Senators in the entire opinion, the panel did not bother even to cite this the statute. We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.
Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and Dems: In my opinion, it is humiliating. —Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder. Crooked Hillary Clinton said she is used to dealing with men who get off the reservation.
Ten, did you say?
That's a straw. —Who is the long fellow running for the Presidency I've ever seen! —Hurrah, there, says Joe, will be speaking about our great journey to the Republican nomination. She is sooooo guilty.
Says Lenehan that knows a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? There was no-one like him-a true champion! A beautiful funeral today for a big rally.
The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. Why didn't these people vote? —We don't want him, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole wide world. Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar. Media rigging election!
The United States must be paid more for the powerful, and very expensive, defense it provides to Germany! Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young Oxonian the bearer, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a fact, says John Wyse, and a man who doesn't have a clue. Cried the last speaker. Who comes through Michan's land, bedight in sable armour?
The courthouse is a blind. Says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? We must keep evil out of our country. -thank you! Despite winning the second debate in a landslide, I won the popular vote. Klook Klook. Thanks Donald!
Mitt Romney's historic loss, is now spending Wall Street money on false ads against me. 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. -called Obama years. So Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him up at that meeting now with William Field, M.P., the cattle traders.
Sinn Fein!
What do the yellowjohns of Anglia owe us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths? Enjoy! Says Lenehan. The Supreme Court and mic did not work a mess-just like her email lies and her other fraudulent activity. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what?
Will know soon! I am going to make our country Safe Again for all Americans.
She is a Hillary flunky who lost big.
Force, hatred, history, all that. Enjoy! You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. Love your neighbour. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. —Yes, says Bloom, on account of the poor lad till he yells meila murder.
And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.
And the bloody dog: After him, boy!
200 dead in Baghdad, worst in many years. We don't want him, says he, what will you have?
So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. —Slan leat, says he. Thank you, I will terminate deal. ISIS!
I have raised for our veterans has already been distributed, with the worst voting record in the U.S.
MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!
I had NOTHING to do with women, and they swore by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. We are a long time.
Thinking of victims, their families and all Americans! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Ready to lead.
—Yes, says Alf. The only people who are not interested in being the V.P. pick are the people that have made U.S. a mess!
ObamaCare! All confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. Very organized process taking place as I decide on Cabinet and many other positions. Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. Will be such fun!
I was running after that—You what? The proceedings then terminated. Very good talks! —Yes, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own.
#LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings.
—We know those canters, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. —He had no father, says Martin, rapping for his glass. He's been losing so long he doesn't know how to win including failed run four years ago, was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. President Obama's brother, Malik, just announced that he wants the people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren has been, she would lose!
Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. It is so pathetic that the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with its poor coverage and massive premium increases like the 116% hike in Arizona. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Don’t feel sorry for crooked Hillary! Details to follow. I call my own shots, largely based on an accumulation of data, and everyone knows it. Says Joe. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what?
They were crushed last night in Cleveland at Rules Committee by a vote of 87-12.
Make America Great Again! Concert tour.
I.
—Not a word, doing the honours. Don't you know he's dead?
—Ten thousand pounds.
Says Alf.
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Cyclops#politics#American politics#presidential elections#21st century#Twitter#Donald Trump#2016#2017
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[RF] The Second Best Dentist in Town
The Second Best Dentist in Town
Dr. Marvin Gill was the second best dentist in Mankato. He was 62 years young and had a perfectly groomed white mustache and piercing blue eyes. He spoke plainly and with a conviction you don't find in most folks. If you had to assign him a flavor of ice cream based on personality, most would say the man was mint-chip.
Dr. Marvin Gill was a proud man. He never hesitated to inform his patients about the various trophies and medals he had won, many of which weren't even related to his dental practice (although of course some were). He would tell people about how he had won ribbons for growing squash, raising pigs, and carving wooden sculptures. He took home first place in an Irish jig competition, even though he hated dancing the Irish jig.
He was an avid hunter, and had proudly stuffed and displayed various game he had bagged over the years throughout his office. There was an 8-foot tall polar bear standing on its hind legs, teeth and claws bared in a menacing pose. There was a 400-pound male African lion he had popped several years back, sitting upright, proudly surveying his waiting room. He had named it Vaughn. The heads of various deer and elk adorned the walls of his dental practice. "You see that one," he would say while injecting Novocain into a patients' gum, "shot him square in the heart from 60 yards out- dropped dead on the spot. That was a park record."
May was an important month for dentists in North Mankato- reason being that North Mankatons tended to overdo it in March and April eating Cadbury Eggs. The average North Mankaton consumed between 10 to 12 crème eggs a day. Obviously this over-indulgence lead to a spike in both cavities and diabetes, the former being most important to Dr. Marvin Gill's dental practice. Whenever Easter came around, Dr. Gill would say to his hygienists, "Ok ladies, go ahead and clear up those calendars for the next two months. We'll be drillin' and fillin' till the cows come home." And away they'd go.
Dr. Gill always showed up to work particularly early on the First of May. He wouldn't show it on the outside, but on the inside he would be giddy with excitement. On this particular May 1st he was even giddier than normal because this was the first year that the North Mankato Contests and Competitions Board (the NMCCB) had decided to hold a "Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest". The NMCCB was not known for its creativity in coming up with contest names. When Dr. Gill heard about the competition, he rushed to his stationary desk to fill out, sign, seal and deliver the application to the Board. It should be noted that, despite his best efforts, his was the second application received.
The first patient to arrive that day was Betty Pinge. Betty was a heavyset woman in her early 50s, and would certainly be placed on the 'above average' region of the spectrum where dental work was concerned. She had been coming to Dr. Gill for decades. Despite finding her quite bothersome and a bit grotesque, Dr. Gill didn't mind seeing Ms. Pinge one bit because he knew that she was a guaranteed 4 fillings, minimum.
After Katrina (one of the hygienists) finished up with her initial cleaning, Dr. Gill entered the exam room with his standard professional smile, asking, "And how are we today Betty? Been keeping up with your flossing?" To which Betty giggled and replied, "The best I can, Dr. Gill! You know I just lovethose Cadbury Eggs though... I tend to go a little wild this time of year! Hopefully my teeth don't show it!"
Dr. Gill smiled to himself, though not nearly wide enough for Ms. Pinge to notice. He pulled his stool up alongside her and said, "Well then let's take a look and see what we've got here." Betty Pinge opened up her mouth wide and Dr. Gill, utensils in hand, began his exam. "Hmmm..." said Dr. Gill as he prodded and poked around Ms. Pinge's gums. Right off the bat he was able to identify 6 cavities in need of filling. "Looks a little concerning in here." He said this to Ms. Pinge with an unfaltering sense of concern and professionalism, but on the inside all he could think was "Jackpot..."
The rest of the day went about as well as Dr. Gill could've hoped for. He kept an old-fashioned mechanical counter in his jacket pocket that he would 'click' every time he completed a filling. By noon he had already racked up 42- well above average even for May. Despite this, his competitive nature kept him on edge. He certainly wasn't going to rest on his laurels or think for even one second that he could take a break. No- he was going to drill, fill, drill, fill, drill and fill some more until every last patient that had been booked that day was done, and every last speck of a cavity had been treated- no matter how small. By 6 pm his counter read 222. He said good evening to his hygienists Katrina and Karol, and to Jackie (his receptionist), walked out the glass storefront doors of the dental practice, got into his silver 2008 BMW 3-series and headed home.
...
Now you may have noticed that I said Dr. Marvin Gill was the second best dentist in town. That is because the best dentist in town was Dr. Gill Marvin. Dr. Marvin, too, was a proud man. He had won slightly more trophies and medals than Dr. Gill. Where Dr. Gill had won silver medals, Dr. Marvin had taken home gold. When Dr. Gill won blue ribbons, Dr. Marvin had gotten red. Dr. Marvin had a 9-foot polar bear in his office, and a 500-pound lion. Dr. Marvin did not bother competing in the Irish jig competition, because he was busy winning both a salsa and a tap dancing competition at a better venue across town, back-to-back.
Dr. Gill hated Dr. Marvin with a passion that burned hotter than a thousand hot pockets that just came out of a thousand microwaves, all having been heated for a thousand minutes. It was a hate that burned deep, deep inside of Dr. Gill, but that he never once spoke of. In fact, the only shred of evidence that this hatred even existed was an almost invisible twitch of the left side of Dr. Gill's mustache at the mention of Dr. Marvin's name.
One time Dr. Gill was out having a fancy dinner with his wife, Mary. He had just handed his American Express card to the waitress when she looked at it and said, "Oh you have almost the same name as my dentist! His name is Dr. Gill Marvin!"
While she giggled for a moment, Dr. Gill held back an involuntary grunt and said, "Well that's not me. I'm Dr. Marvin Gill, and I am in fact a dentist. My patients all tell me I'm the best in town, you know. If you're ever in need of top quality dental work, please do stop by."
The waitress then replied, "Oh I'm sure that won't be necessary. Dr. Marvin is FANTASTIC! I'd never stop going there. He really is the best! Oh this is too funny, Dr. Marvin Gill and Dr. Gill Marvin- who would have thought!" She kept giggling and turned away to run the American Express card. Dr. Gill's mustache twitched ever-so-slightly, but just enough that Mary noticed. She was the only one who knew to look for it.
"Oh don't listen to her Marvin! She's just a foolish young girl who knows nothing of quality dental care!" said Mary. "Why don't we go dancing, hmm? Wouldn't that be lovely?? It's been ages since we've danced the foxtrot."
But Dr. Gill didn't feel like dancing. In fact, Dr. Gill felt like murdering... Murdering Dr. Gill Marvin. He stared vacantly into his half empty gin and tonic, lost in thought. "Murder," he mumbled.
"What was that dear?" asked Mary.
Flustered, he replied, "I... I said herder. I'm thinking about becoming... a sheep herder."
Mary giggled. "Oh Marvin you do say the most outlandish things sometimes! A sheep herder- what an absolute gas!"
...
It was now the 8th of May- one week into High Cavity season. Dr. Marvin Gill was in good spirits as he had already had to re-order dental cement twice. His mechanical counter currently read 1068. He was in particularly high spirits as he had entered and won a sack-race over the weekend. He had had the sack stuffed and mounted over his fireplace, with a small placard that read "2016 North Mankato Tri-Annual Sack-Race Winner, Spring Invitational- Dr. Marvin Gill, DDS". Dr. Gill had insisted they include "DDS" on the placard.
The morning had been a bit slower than Dr. Gill would have liked. He had seen 3 patients, though had only performed 4 fillings between them. There had also been an unusually high number of cancellations over the past few days, which irked Dr. Gill.
No matter though- looking at the schedule he saw that the Bigglebun twins were scheduled for that afternoon. Those Bigglebuns were well-known around town as fat little piggies, and as a conservative estimate they probably ate roughly 40 Cadbury Eggs a day, each. Townspeople would often encounter them riding their tricycles down this street or that, one hand on the handlebars and the other holding a chocolate egg dripping with crème, bellies protruding out of the midsections of their skin-tight t-shirts.
Dr. Gill had just finished sealing up a cavity when Jackie came in with a dreadful look on her face.
"Dr. Gill..." she said, her voice noticeably trembling.
"What is it Jackie?" asked Dr. Gill.
"C- can you come to the back office for a minute?" she asked.
Dr. Gill got up and followed Jackie to the back office. He shut the door and they both sat down. "So what is it dear?" asked Dr. Gill.
"Well..." Jackie started, but paused.
"Come on now Jackie, you know it's the month of May. We're burning precious daylight here- what is it?"
Jackie swallowed with a loud 'gulp'. "Well Mrs. Bigglebun just called... she said... she said she needs to cancel the twins' appointment this afternoon."
Always the consummate professional, Dr. Gill didn't show one iota of the disappointment that swept over him, but simply asked, "Well did she say why?"
Jackie grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and dabbed at the sweat now dripping from her forehead. She took a big, deep breath. "So she said... she said she found another dentist."
Dr. Gill sat silently, but shifted his gaze straight ahead to a blank spot on the wall. "Who?" he asked in complete monotone.
"She said... she said... oh God she said Dr. Gill Marvin! I'm so sorry Dr. Gill!!!" exclaimed Jackie.
Dr. Gill sat silent, motionless for about 3 seconds. "It's fine, dear," he said, again in monotone, his gaze was burning a hole into the wall, "Nothing to worry about."
Robotically, he raised himself out of his chair and walked out of the office. "I'll be taking my lunch now," he said without turning his head. He continued walking, slowly and smoothly, staring straight forward. Without blinking, he walked right out the front door of the office without another word.
...
Exactly 1 hour later Dr. Gill returned to the office. He entered unceremoniously through the front doors and walked right through, again without saying a word. He continued on with the day's appointments. Neither Jackie nor the receptionists said another word about the Bigglebun twins.
...
Dr. Gill Marvin had impeccable fashion. He wore a platinum Rolex that kept perfect time. He had 20 different color variations of the same Ralph Lauren long-sleeve button-down shirt in his rotation, as well as 19 different styles / colors of Ralph Lauren khaki pants. This ensured he would never wear the same outfit twice in the same year. He had slick black hair and a flawless mustache that was so black that, when asked about it, most would say they would never go back .
He always kept the 1994 album "The Very Best of Kenny G" on repeat in his office. While some patients found this music selection bothersome, they were happy to put up with it because Dr. Marvin was such a damn good dentist and snappy dresser. Other than the dead animals mounted throughout the office, Dr. Marvin's office decor could be described as "abstract psychedelic jazz". Think those paper cups from the 1990's with the teal and purple design on them.
It was May 8th and Dr. Marvin had just finished up his last appointment of the day. Despite his marital status ("married"), he usually spent about 10 minutes flirting with his receptionist prior to leaving the office. Although Dr. Marvin was not her type, his receptionist, Val, didn't mind the impropriety. It was a good paying job, and he was a good boss otherwise, so if she only had to put up with 10 minutes a day of mildly inappropriate chit-chat, that was ok with her.
"You shoulda seen the mouth on this gal!" Dr. Marvin was saying to her, "Chompers yellow as corn! Nothin' like your pearly whites," he added with a wink. "Ok sweet cheeks," he continued, "You make sure and get your beauty rest tonight!" He quickly swiveled around and, with his usual swagger, sauntered out the front door. He walked out to his parking space and stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped his briefcase and yelled, "WHAT THE SHIT!?!"
His recently detailed 2009 BMW 5-series had, at some point during the day, been viciously assaulted by the business end of someone's car key. On the driver's side of the vehicle they had inscribed the phrase "MARVIN EATS DICK." in large, capital letters, and with impeccable handwriting most closely resembling Helvetica.
Huffing and puffing, Dr. Marvin glared around the parking lot searching for any clue the culprit may have left behind. Alas, nothing. "GOD DAMN IT!" he exclaimed, as he got into the car, slammed the door and peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
...
It was May 24th, one week left in the fillings competition, and Dr. Gill was getting desperate. He had no idea how many fillings the competition had chalked up, but knew that he had been getting more cancellations than he was comfortable with. He decided it was time to change up his strategy... but how?
He was racking his brain on his way to work when he noticed all the billboards he was passing by. "That's it!" he though. "A billboard! Marvin you're a god damn genius!"
As soon as he arrived at the office he immediately told Jackie to pull out the Yellow Pages and find a billboard vendor. Jackie, being younger than 62, opened up the internet and found a phone number.
"Great work!" said Dr. Gill, as he excitedly snatched up the post-it note that Jackie had written the number on and power-walked back to his office. He picked up his desk phone and dialed the number.
A yolky, high-pitched man answered, "Hamp's Billboard's n' Such! Chester Hamp speaking!"
"Hello, I need to rent a billboard for a week," said Dr. Gill.
"Fantastic!" egged Chester Hamp, "Any particular location?"
"Wherever the most cars will see it! In North Mankato, of course," replied Dr. Gill.
"You got it. I know just the one!" said Hamp, "When do you need it ready?"
"Yesterday!" replied Dr. Gill. "We're in the middle of a dental competition, you see, and I need cavities to fill!"
"I get it- ASAP! I can have up by tomorrow! So what's your name, sir?" asked Hamp.
" Dr. Marvin Gill, DDS," said Dr. Gill, "And I want the billboard to say 'Dr. Marvin Gill- Best Dentist In Town!'"
"You got it!" squealed Hamp. "Now I suppose we should discuss our rate?"
"I don't care- just keep it under 5 grand," barked Dr. Gill. All of a sudden he had a thought. "And I want you to put a picture of my stuffed lion on there as well! His name is Vaughn. I'll have my receptionist fax over a photograph post-haste!" said Dr. Gill.
"Sure thing Marvin!" said Hamp, "And you can just have her email it, if you'd like."
"JACKIE!" yelled Dr. Gill, covering up the phone's mouthpiece, "I need you to email a picture of Vaughn to Chester Hamp!"
"Ok!" Jackie called back, "What's his email?"
"CHESTER HAMP!" Dr. Gill yelled back. "Send it to CHESTER HAMP!"
"That's not an email- I think that's just his name!" said Jackie.
Eventually they figured it out, but not before Dr. Gill got frustrated and transferred the call over to Jackie.
...
On his way to work the next day, Dr. Gill arrived at a heavily-trafficked stoplight about 2 miles from his office. While waiting for the light to change, he slowly lifted his gaze to a prominent 10' x 25' billboard at the opposite corner of the intersection. He felt his body temperature rise about 10 degrees, and his teeth nearly shattered from the involuntary clench in his jaw. On the billboard was a beautiful picture of Vaughn right next to the phrase:
Dr. Gill Marvin- Best Dentist In Town!
...
Dr. Marvin Gill blasted through the front doors of the dental practice, nearly knocking over a stuffed raccoon. "JACKIE!" he yelled, "GET THAT SON OF A BITCH CHESTER HAMP ON THE LINE!"
He stormed back to his office. His phone intercom rang and he picked it up. "Chester Hamp on line 1," said Jackie. Dr. Gill clicked over to line 1.
"HAMP! YOU IMBECILE!" screamed Dr. Gill.
"Mr. Gill- is something wrong with your billboard?" he asked, frightened.
"It's DR. Gill to you! And you're God Damn right something's wrong!" Dr. Gill replied, "You put that bastard Gill Marvin's name up there by mistake!"
"Oh my goodness... I am so sorry!" replied Chester. "Oh dear oh dear... it'll take a week to get that fixed!"
"I DON'T HAVE A WEEK, DAMNIT!" yelled Dr. Gill. "Your incompetence has buried me!"
"So... so sorry... let me see... uhhh... oh my... we'll have it taken down right-" Chester Hamp was cut off by Dr. Gill forcefully hanging up the phone on its receiver.
While this was clearly and solely the fault of Chester Hamp, Marvin Gill's rage was instinctively directed 100% at Dr. Gill Marvin. He began to experience what is commonly referred to in the psychological community as "tunnel-vision," and at the other end of that tunnel was Dr. Marvin's greasy head on a platter. He couldn't focus on work. He couldn't focus on Hamp. All he could do was clench his jaw, ball up his fists on his desk, glare at his mallard duck paperweight, and hyperventilate.
It took ten minutes for Dr. Gill to chill the F out, but the rage was still there- smoldering with consistent heat, just beneath the thin layer of ash that was his arrant professionalism. At this point he couldn't even determine if he was more concerned with winning the competition, or simply wiping Dr. Gill Marvin off the face of the planet.
"No," he thought. "That would be too easy... You're better than that." And with that he resolved he would win the competition, no questions asked. He didn't care if he had to grab homeless people off the street and drag them in for fillings, free of charge. If it meant beating that rat-bastard, he would do it...
And that's just what he did.
...
By May 26th word had gotten around through the homeless community that some crazy dentist was giving away free dental work. When Dr. Gill arrived at his shop that day there was a line out the door and around the corner of smelly bums, hobos, vagrants and vagabonds, smiling and greeting Dr. Gill as he walked by downing his gigantic cup of black coffee.
"Not taking any calls today Jackie!" he said with a wave, as he quickly passed through the waiting room and into the prep area. He popped on a couple rubber gloves, sat down in exam room one and gave Karol a quick hand gesture, letting her know to start sending them in.
Between the hours of 7 am and 7 pm (as he would now be staying open late AND on weekends), Dr. Gill spent every minute that day and the next 5 days doling out fillings to the homeless. He was racking up so many fillings now that his mechanical counter had broken and he had to use a whiteboard to write down the running total. In fact, he was so busy that he asked his wife Mary to come in just to keep the board updated!
Despite the fact that he was hemorrhaging money, and that his office smelled like urine and garbage, Dr. Gill couldn't have been happier. "There's no WAY I can lose this thing! These homeless peoples' teeth are like black gold!!!" He was treating close to 25 patients a day, sending each and every one of them on their way with a smile and a bag containing floss, a toothbrush, and a miniature tube of Crest toothpaste.
Eventually the local news caught wind of what was going on at Dr. Gill's dental practice, and they ate it up. The headline in the paper read "LOCAL DENTIST GIVES HOMELESS A MOUTHFUL OF HOPE". The 10 o'clock news did an interview with several of the people who had been treated, each of them calling Dr. Gill a saint, a hero, a great man. The PR couldn't have been any better!
And then came May 31st.
...
It was the home stretch. The final countdown. The whole shebang. All the marbles. Everything on the line. It all comes down to this. No holds barred.
Marvin Gill had been racking up so many fillings over the last week that his hands were now covered in calluses. It was 4:55 pm, and the "Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest" had a strict deadline of 5:00 pm on May 31st. Dr. Gill finished up 2 last minute fillings just as the clock struck 5. He walked over to the white board and asked, "Mary, may I do the honors?"
"Of course dear!" she replied, smiling and handing him the black dry-erase marker. He took it from her, erased the last digit of the running count, and inked the new grand total of 5,308. He stepped back and admired his handy work. It was one of the finest "8"s he had ever written. "You've outdone yourself this time," Thought Dr. Gill, "You magnificent son of a bitch."
"Well," said Dr. Gill, "Better get everything in to the NMCCB." Jackie gathered up the months' dental records- a stack of paper nearly a foot tall- and followed Dr. Gill out to the parking lot. They both got into Dr. Gill's 3-series and headed to the Official NMCCB Contest Headquarters.
The North Mankato Contests and Competitions Board Contest Headquarters was far-and-away the most impressive building in North Mankato. Designed using the principles of early 1960's brutalist architecture, the looming 7-story concrete structure looked like a giant upside-down trapezoid. There were maybe 100 dark rectangular windows glaring out over the much-larger-than-necessary parking lot. At the very bottom of the trapezoid, dead-center was a single automatic sliding glass door, in front of which now stood Dr. Marvin Gill and his receptionist, just out of range of the sensor.
"Well Jackie, here goes nothing!" said Dr. Gill excitedly, but just as he turned from Jackie toward the door he heard a voice yelling at him from across the parking lot.
"Marvin Gill! Hey Marvin how ya doin' bud?! Thought I'd see you here!" yelled Dr. Gill Marvin as he jogged over toward Dr. Marvin Gill. Two of his gals were running behind him trying to keep up, arms full of paperwork. A small bead of sweat dripped down the side of Dr. Gill's forehead, and the left corner of his mustache twitched ever-so-slightly.
"Dr. Marvin. How are you?" said Dr. Gill, showing every ounce of restraint.
"Stack's lookin' a little thin there, ey' Gilly Boy?" smirked Dr. Marvin.
Dr. Gill clenched his jaw and replied, "You and I both know it's not the size of the stack, Gill. Hell, I've got a patient record in there showing 12 fillings in one visit."
"Sure ya' do, bud," scoffed Dr. Marvin. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know a good auto detailer, would'ya'? Some A-hole did a real number my Beamer the other day. Scratched the hell outta the thing!"
Dr. Gill forced back a smirk. "Nope, sorry."
"Jeez... Oh well, I better get in there so they can start countin' all my records! Somethin' tells me it'll take'em a while. C'mon ladies- move those sweet petutes!" And with that Dr. Marvin walked through the automatic door and into the Contest HQ, gals-in-tow.
"Good God I hate that man," muttered Dr. Gill.
Jackie turned to Dr. Gill and stated, simply, "You're 10 times the dentist he is, Doc."
Dr. Gill smiled and looked at Jackie. "You're alright kid," he said. "You're alright." After a brief pause, he turned and looked at the doorway, "Ok then. Let's do this." And with that, they walked in.
...
It had been 3 days since the NMCCB had received it's submissions for the "Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest" (all 2 of them), and the results had still not been announced. Dr. Gill had been having Jackie call the NMCCB Hotline every hour on the hour since June 1 to see if they had determined a winner. The NMCCB utilized an automated answering system, which took approximately 30 minutes to get through, so poor Jackie had to spend half of her working day dealing with it.
Finally, at 1 pm on June the 4th, there was a breakthrough. "We have the results," said the NMCCB official on the other end, "The announcement and awards ceremony will be held tonight at 7 pm. So Sayeth The Board." Jackie didn't even have time to respond before the line disconnected from the other end.
Jackie rushed back to the exam room to let Dr. Gill know. "Excellent," remarked Dr. Gill. "Please call Mary and let her know I'll need my tuxedo dry cleaned and ironed ASAP." He continued on with his current appointment showing absolutely no sign of concern or apprehension. That being said, he was all butterflies on the inside.
...
Now if there was one thing the NMCCB was known for, it was throwing awards galas. The NMCCB Banquet Hall was lavishly adorned with elegant table settings, glittering chandeliers, intricate floral arrangements, and an all-you-can-eat buffet spread that would make Wolfgang Puck cum in his pants. There were about 350 guests in attendance, which would seem odd considering the particular nature of the competition and the fact that there were only 2 entrants, but was in fact not odd because all North Mankaton's were well aware of the caliber of an NMCCB awards gala, and the trouser-jizzing quality of the free buffet that was always offered.
Dr. Gill and Mary were seated at one of the tables nearest the stage, Mary in her finest evening gown and Dr. Gill in his clean-and-pressed tuxedo. They were both enjoying some lobster thermador with a heaping side of caviar and Fiji Water, when an older-looking gentleman (also dressed in a tuxedo) walked up on stage and approached the announcement podium.
"Ehem," he began. The room fell silent. He continued, "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the NMCCB 'Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest' Awards Ceremony!" There was a generous round of applause.
"I am Kurt Prune, chairman of the NMCCB, and will be your host for the evening. Now, before we announce the winner- HEY! YOU BIGGLEBUN TWINS PUT THAT DOWN!" Mr. Prune exclaimed as he pointed toward the buffet, where two fat little boys were attempting to carry away a giant tray of desserts. The entire room turned their heads to look. The Bigglebuns dropped the tray with a loud clang and scurried out the back door, farting and giggling all the way.
"GOD DAMN IT!" yelled Kurt Prune, "EVERY FUCKING TIME!"
The room stayed quiet while Mr. Prune collected himself. "I'm sorry about that," he said, "As I was saying... before we announce the winner, I would like to thank all of our contestants for their participation in yet another fantastic NMCCB Competition!" A generous round of applause followed.
"Thank you, thank you," he continued. "So, without further ado. The records have been counted- and I must say this was one of the closest competitions we've ever seen- Only 10 fillings separated the winner and the runner-up!"
Quite murmurs spread throughout the audience. "Oh my!" "Ten fillings!" "Such suspense!"
"Yes, yes it is very exciting," he continued. "So, as I was saying- the winner, by 10 fillings, of the NMCCB Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest is....... Dr. Gill Marvin!!!"
The room burst into applause. Gill Marvin stood up with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. Smiling and waving to the crowd, he headed up to the stage.
Dr. Marvin Gill felt his heart drop down through his guts and fall out of his ass.
Dr. Marvin had just stepped up on to the stage, when right at that moment a loud THUD was heard throughout the banquet hall. The entire room turned their heads to the back door, where someone had just burst in.
"Just wait one god damn minute!!" squealed a voice from the back of the banquet hall. Though Dr. Gill had never seen this man before, he immediately recognized the voice belonging to none other than Chester Hamp of Hamp's Billboards 'n' Such. He was a short, portly man who wore a black visor, white shorts, flip flops, and a flowing Tommy Bahama shirt that had a decorative pattern of fish hooks and wooden steering wheels.
Hamp sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him up to the announcement podium and he pushed Kurt Prune aside. There was a collective gasp throughout the banquet hall. Hamp was completely out of breath, and needed to lean on the podium for about 20 seconds, breathing heavily before he collected himself. He sniffed his armpits, and began-
"My name is Chester Hamp. As you may know, I run North Mankato's premier billboard rental service: Hamp's Billboards 'n' Such. However, what you may not know is that I am also a licensed private investigator! Actually, that is what the "Such" in "Billboards 'n' Such" stands for- private investigations."
Hamp continued, "Now, recently Dr. Marvin Gill contacted me about renting a billboard to advertise his dental practice. I gleefully accepted his request, but made a major error in printing the signage! Instead of placing Dr. Marvin Gill's name on the billboard, I printed the name 'Dr. Gill Marvin' by mistake! Now, Chester Hamp may be a lot of things, but he always does right by his customers! When I learned about my mistake, I couldn't just sit idly by and allow my blunder to devastate Dr. Gill's ambitions. Knowing that there was a dental competition underway, I visited the NMCCB's website to learn more about it. Low-and-behold, I found that Dr. Gill Marvin was in fact the only other entrant!
Well, at this point I felt like a REAL LOUSE! So, I decided I would do some digging into Dr. Marvin's practice. Well guess what! DR. Marvin isn't a DOCTOR at all!"
Yet another collective gasp from the crowd.
"That's right! As it turns out, he was expelled from dental school during his first year for SEXUAL HARASSMENT, and never received his MD! I did some more digging and found out that he fraudulently opened up his dental practice only 1 year later. Now, here's the best part!"
The entire banquet hall was now brimming with a mixture of excitement and confusion.
"I decided to see just how 'Dr. Marvin' was able to perform so many fillings, so I booked an appointment myself. After receiving what I thought were 3 fillings, I arrived home to find that he had simply smeared white paint over all my teeth- No fillings at all!!!"
Dr. Marvin shoved Chester Hamp off of the microphone. "This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Dr. Marvin. "I deny every claim this guy just made! It ain't true I tell ya!"
Just then a voice yelled from somewhere in the middle of the room, "Mr. Hamp is right!" it was Mrs. Bigglebun now standing up at her table. "I took my precious little angels to have their cavities filled by Dr. Marvin, but all he did was paint their teeth!"
Another gasp.
Dr. Marvin now looked incredibly uncomfortable. Loosening his bow tie he tried to explain, "Wuh- well- you know what- this guy- jeez-it's all a buncha-aaheehaaAAHHHH!!!" He totally lost it and pulled out a handgun, aiming it point blank at Chester Hamp's head.
Another BIG gasp.
"NOW look whach'ya made me do! You just HAAAD to go diggin' around didn'cha!?! DIDN'CHA?!?" yelled Dr. Marvin, "Well THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YA MESS WITH OL' GILL MARVIN!!!"
Just then a loud BANG rang out. The room gasped so f-ing loud that it almost blew out the windows. Gill Marvin dropped to his knees, then flopped on his side, blood running out the side of his head.
Dr. Marvin Gill was standing up at his table, his normally concealed weapon now brandished in his outstretched arm, smoke flowing out from the muzzle.
The banquet hall erupted in applause. Kurt Prune walked up to the microphone and exclaimed, "Ladies and Gentlemen- I present the TRUE winner of the NMCCB's 'Which Dentist Can Perform the Most Fillings Contest'- Dr. Marvin Gill!!!"
...
It had been a month since Dr. Gill had won the contest, and things were now getting back to normal. His dental practice now benefited from a huge uptick in appointments and new patients, and best of all was the new trophy that Dr. Gill proudly put on display on the reception counter.
In addition to the "Most Fillings Contest" 1st place trophy, Dr. Gill had recently mounted a new prize in his office, right over the reception counter. It may not have given him as much pride as the NMCCB trophy, but it certainly brought him great personal pleasure. Directly above the reception desk on the wall was Gill Marvin's head, stuffed, with a placard that read "Gill Marvin- WORST Dentist in Town".
THE END
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Brunch at Tiffany’s
I worked at the Utah Museum of Fine Arts when I was in college back in the 90s. I was on a work study program, and I actually started in the work shop, in the basement.
This may sound like a mismatch, and it was, but not for the obvious reasons. I took shop in Jr. High school and, all things considered, I did pretty well. The class was one year long but divided into three sections: wood shop, technology, and metal shop. My wood shop teacher loved me. He gave me 150% on one assignment because I carved a 3D design when everyone else had done a 2D cutout. I rarely saw the tech teacher but his student teacher told me flat out (and in front of the entire class) not to come to him with any questions because he had no intention of helping me. “I know you are only here to meet boys.”
I was thirteen and I would not have known what to do with a boy if I managed to get one's positive attention. And anyway, I spent each day of class just trying to stay out of the path of those trolls. I don’t know if there were particularly nasty personalities in that group or if it was the result of getting too many thirteen year old boys in one room with power tools, but those boys were the worst! They were both mean and dangerous and they made every day torture. They were constantly trying to humiliate me into quitting, or at least crying. If I said anything in class – right or wrong – I was teased for it for the rest of the period. One day they would roll the spot welder into place behind me and set it off to burn my arms and singe my clothes with the flying sparks. The next, they would wait for me to walk into class and then they would strip the skinny nerdy kid of his pants and push him toward me. It was an exercise in tolerance, and I survived it, one day at a time. I hope that skinny nerdy kid did, too.
The metal shop instructor in the final section of class was helpful but stern. I never got a sense that he knew I was in any way different from the 29 other male students. Then one day I got called down to the office and learned he had nominated me for student of the month. Maybe he wanted to reward my fortitude? Or maybe he felt bad about putting the spot welder on wheeled castors to begin with. I'll never know.
Fast forward a few years, and I was looking for a work study job at the University of Utah. I saw a post at the art museum and thought it would be fun to work there. I think I listed two things on my job application: 1.) my year of shop training in 8th grade and 2.) the fact that I got the highest possible score on my AP art history exam. I got the job. I may have been the only person who applied.
My boss in the museum's shop was what we would now call a “hot mess,” though by the time I met him he was cold and lumpy. On my first day, he told me to "earthquake proof the Pre-Columbian exhibit." Then he went back into his office where he sat at his desk and stared at a corner in the ceiling while medium priced scotch directly from the bottle. We never spoke again.
I had no idea what to do or where to start. Maybe if this weren't the year 1995 it would have occurred to me to look up "how to earthquake proof old ceramics" on the internet, but it wasn't and I was screwed. I walked around the exhibit trying to get some ideas. I looked for ways to suspend the smaller objects from the ceiling so that if there were a quake they would swing around but never hit the ground. Or each other? But still be out of reach of thieves or handsy children? I decided it wouldn't work but I was feeling like I had made some progress by having a bad idea and eliminating it and that seemed positive. Then I noticed a large mask under filtered light. It had a strangely familiar texture. I leaned in and read the card next to the plexiglass box which read, “made of animal skin.” It was the generality that made it come together for me. Human. It was definitely human skin. I was convinced. I still am. If I had ever found a way to secure that collection I might have left that particular object to fend for itself.
I still had a work ethic back then and I couldn't just not work. Having no clue what I was supposed to do and a distinct fear of trying and failing, I was stuck. Then I noticed a shop-vac in the corner. It was one of those trash-can sized deals on wheels with a suction tube like an elephant’s trunk coming off the side. I named it R2 and it was my only co-worker for a while. I showed up to work three afternoons a week and I vacuumed every nook and crevice whether it needed it or not. And it didn't. Not at all. At the end of each shift I emptied R2 and then I went home. Until one day I showed up and was informed (not by my boss, but someone else) that I had been transferred to the gift shop. For a few seconds before the relief set in, I felt that I had let all of womankind down. I had a shop job, and I failed. Then I headed upstairs to the lobby and the sunlight and I left R2 behind without so much as a backward glance.
My new boss was a man named Brad who rarely came in to work, but when he did he was over dressed and wearing too much foundation. On the days that he didn't come in, I was told he suffered from migraines. I interpreted this as code for a penchant for late nights and hangovers, but I don't really know. I just know that I was again left alone, but this time with post cards, a cash register, and some clear expectations.
This was not the MET or MOMA. Sometimes I would go days without a customer. There was plenty of time to do homework, but in the summers I read entire Steven King novels while sitting behind the register. Once in a while I had a customer, and they would want to pay with a credit card. On those occasions I had to run through the museum and ask everyone in their offices to hang up their phones. “We made a sale! I need to use the phone line to run a charge!”
The 90s were an adorable time to be alive. I'm sorry if you missed them.
One day I was sitting at my station, writing in my journal or something, when the security guard stopped by to ask if I needed a bathroom break. Her name was Debbie and I just adored her. She was sweet and worldly and she had one deformed tiny hand, not unlike the Kristen Wiig “Dooneese” sketches on Saturday Night Live. At least, that is what it made me think of, many years later, when I saw them. Debbie told me that when she was growing up, her mother always made her use her tiny had to clean out the garbage disposal and she was always frightened it might turn on spontaneously.
“Yes!” I shouted, hopping off my too tall stool. “Thank you!” But as I landed, the stool fell back and hit this weird waist high block thing that we used to push in front of the cash register area when no one was on duty in the gift shop. (It was very secure, obviously.) The block made a thunk and tipped on its side in the direction of the glass wall that was the only thing separating the gift shop area from the ten foot tall Tiffany crystal doors. I was told that they were a gift from Louis Comfort Tiffany to the LDS church in the late 1800s, but church leaders didn’t want them because they featured winged angels. Mormon angels don't have wings (because Joseph Smith saw some angels and he said they didn't have wings, and man who sees angels and talks to them in the woods and then reads secret books by putting his head in a hat and using magic stones to translate them into English is not weird. Angels with wings? That’s silly. Amazing what bunk some folks believe in. We don't want those. Give them to the university in case they ever get an art museum.).
I leapt between the falling block and the glass and stopped the impending crash with my body, the right angle edge of the block crushing into my full bladder. Luckily I was 19 and I didn't piss myself so that was the end of the drama.
“Woah,” I said. I looked back at the Tiffany angels, which are not the classic blue and green of the classic Tiffany lamp shades that you are probably picturing. They are long elegant slices of crystal with frosted angel designs carved into them. They could be the doors leading to Superman's Fortress of Solitude. For a moment I imagined them shattered and skittering in icy pieces across the floor. At the time, the museum's director was a diminutive octogenarian and man shaped ball of rage named Frank Sanguinetti. I had witnessed a few of his milder temper tantrums by then and I was imagining my new life as his forced butler or maid as I tried to work off the debt of the priceless art I had destroyed. I would have been buried in his garden beneath the irises within the week.
“Don't worry,” Debbie said, helping to unpin me with her little hand. “I always get clutzy on my period, too.”
That is when my head exploded. Yes, but how did she...? And was it true that...? Now that I think about it... Oh my goodness, yes! Why had no one told me before! This should be common knowledge! There should be a PSA or a warning label on forklifts, at the very least!
There have been a few occasions since that day nearly 20 years ago where I have watched a woman struggle with a task or gravity and, if I felt I knew her well enough, I repeated Debbie's phrase. “Don't worry, Sweetpea. I get like that when my red sea is parting, too.” (Side note, I just googled euphemisms for menstruation to find a funny one and was reminded that there aren’t any, so I just made that up. I did learn that in Japan they call it the “Arrival of Mathew Perry” which is the best thing I ever heard but I failed at finding a way to make it work here.) And each time I have witnessed a similar series of responses. Incredulousness, recognition, connection, amazement, horror, and finally amusement and laughter. Maybe not in that order exactly, but the moment usually ends with laughter. But there is always that moment of recognition. That moment of “Damn, she’s right! Why didn't I put that together myself? And why don't they mention that in those fifth grade maturation videos?”
I don't know the answer. It would have been nice. But as far as I can tell, it is still a well-kept secret.
I've been thinking about all of this the last few days, ever since I got the devastating alert on my phone that read the Cathedral of Notre Dame was on fire. It hurts to think about the loss of history and human accomplishment. The last I heard, they still didn't know how the fire began. It seems they have out-ruled arson, but I read that there was some reconstruction work going on somewhere in the cathedral. Which isn't a surprise. 800 year old buildings have a lot of maintenance required.
I just hope whatever stared the fire was some faulty piece of equipment being operated by some man. Women have suffered enough to build our cred with power tools. That is one disaster we simply do not need.
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Saving Severus Snape - Chapter 21
8th December 1976
Hermione’s eyes were struggling to remain opened while she sat listening to Professor Crabtree. She'd been up too late the evening before, working in the Potion’s classroom with Severus, and afterwards only had around three full hours of sleep. It seemed the more she worked on her antivenin, and the closer she became to Severus, the more frequently she would have nightmares. The one she had the previous night had been particularly horrible, since it had been she reliving Severus’ last moments, for at least the dozenth time.
Yet this time it was very different. Instead of man-Severus, it was the Severus she had known now who was bleeding out in front of her. It was herSeverus who gasped for air, while trying to gargle his last words to Hermione and her friends. It was her Severus whose eyes she looked into and watched the light slowly fade out of them. And it was her Severus whom she woke up shouting for, drenched in a cold sweat.
Her roommates hadn't heard her, of course. They never did. Hermione had taken to placing a silencing charm on the hangings around her bed each night since she'd first arrived to the past. She knew of the nightmares she had frequently, and didn't think it wise for Amelia and the other girls -- especially Rita -- to hear her thrashing and screaming in the middle of the night. Her addition to their dorm had already been strange enough without that happening as well.
Her eyes, which she hadn't realized closed, popped open when she heard a paper land in front of her. She looked up to see if Crabtree had noticed, but he had his back turned writing something on the blackboard, so she quickly grabbed it and unfolded it underneath her desk.
On it there was a crude, stick-figure drawing of a boy with shoulder length dark hair, who sat in a chair. She watched as his eyes transformed to X’s, then as he slumped over in his seat, before he faded off of the paper. In his place a tombstone formed with the words, ‘Here Lies Severus Snape. First Known Soul to Die of Boredom,’ appearing across it. It then turned back to the boy, and the cycle repeated itself.
Hermione snorted loudly, the room went completely silent, and all eyes -- except Severus’ -- fell upon her. She quickly coughed to mask her laughter, and after raising his eyebrows at her, Professor Crabtree continued on with his revision lesson. From the corner of her eye, she saw Severus’ shoulders shaking with silent laughter in the seat across and ahead of her.
Amelia nudged her. “What's that?” she whispered.
Hermione handed her the paper, and she too snorted, but much more discretely.
“How about that? He has a sense of humor,” she whispered again.
Hermione softly kicked her in the foot. “Oh quiet,” she said under her breath.
“Girls!” Crabtree, who normally had an easy going disposition, yelled at Hermione and Amelia with his arms folded across his chest.
As she sneaked a peek at Amelia, she saw her blush, and felt her face do the same.
“Sorry, Professor,” they said in unison.
Not wanting to get in any more trouble, Hermione worked extra hard to stay awake, and pay attention through the rest of their lesson.
After class had ended, Amelia chatted with Hermione briefly, making plans for the following afternoon, before saying a quick goodbye, since Severus was waiting to walk with her.
“Sorry about getting you into trouble,” he told her when they exited the room.
He was smirking, so she knew he hadn't been that sorry about it, regardless she smiled.
“It's alright, Severus. Your drawing was rather amusing,” she told him, then poked his side. “But I wouldn't consider art as a future occupation.”
Severus took her hand, which had become routine by now, and chuckled softly. “Damn, there goes my dreams of becoming the next Picasso,” he said dryly.
“Well hopefully it was a good dream while it lasted,” she teased.
He snorted quietly, then shook his head as he playfully bumped his shoulder into her.
“Alright, enough with the jokes about my abysmal drawing skills, we need to get some revision in before dinner.”
Hermione sighed. She already knew all of the information backwards and forwards, and probably could have recited in her sleep. It was bad enough sitting through each class the entire term, learning the same things she'd learned nearly two years ago -- for her. But revising it all again was almost torture. Especially when she had more important things she needed to work on. But Severus hadn't learned any of this before, so to keep up appearances, she had to agree and then they both made their way to the library.
Sat at their usual table in the back, the two were nearly an hour into their revisions when Severus looked up at her. She noticed his normal nervous ticks -- tugging at his sleeve and clearing his throat, which caused her to become anxious by proxy.
“Everything alright?” she asked.
He kept his gaze locked on his hands as he answered her. “Yes. Well, erm...no? I -- can I ask you something?”
Hermione gently closed the book she had opened and placed her quill on the table, giving him her full attention.
“Anything, Severus. You know that,” she told him with a warm smile.
She watched his Adam's apple bob before taking a breath. Her head cocked to the side; she was extraordinarily curious about what was making him appear so bothered.
“Hermione, you fancy me, correct?” he asked so quietly, it took her a minute to register what he said.
When it finally hit her, she couldn't help but to laugh. “I would think that's rather obvious, considering we’ve been snogging about the castle, Severus.”
His lips twitched upwards. “Good point,” he agreed. “Well, what I wanted to ask you was,” he hesitated for a moment, then looked right into her eyes. “Are we -- I mean. What is this?” he asked, pointing from her and back to himself.
His question somewhat surprised her, since she'd been sort of wondering the same. Clearly they were more than friends, however they really hadn't defined their relationship yet. Although, the more she thought about it, the more she realized they really hadn't needed to. But still, the first and only conversation they had regarding the two of them, up until that point, Hermione had made it clear to him that they weren't in a relationship, and that she'd wanted to take things slowly. And at this point, that seemed to not be enough for him any longer -- it wasn't enough for her any longer if she were being entirely truthful with herself. Without intending to, they had seemed to have crossed that line she had attempted to draw.
A slow smile painted her lips as she watched the lines crease on his forehead, while he waited for her to speak.
“This.” She pointed to herself and then him, just as he had done. “Is a relationship, Severus. As in the two of us are a couple.”
Nothing was said after that, and her pulse quickened when she realized his expression hadn't changed. Was she wrong?
“Isn't it?” she quickly added.
Slowly his posture began to relax, and the worry lines on his face smoothed out. Once again he had that look of wonder in his dark eyes, like she was an enigma he was trying to figure out.
“I would like it to be,” he finally said. “I'm not the type to just go snogging about the castle -- as you said -- with just anyone.”
Hermione laughed at Severus mimicking her voice when he repeated her words.
“Nor am I,” she tried to say through her giggles.
Severus full out smiled, and reached across the table for her hand.
“So I suppose that means I can officially call you my girlfriend now?” he asked with a light in his eyes.
Deep down she knew that this was a horrible decision. That nagging part of her brain that always forced her to think rationally and logically was shouting every warning imaginable at her. There were so many things wrong with her becoming so involved with him, but in the end her heart won out over her brain. She'd already unconsciously made the decision weeks ago. Severus made her happy. He was everything she never realized she needed or wanted in a partner. Once she'd broken down his walls, she had the opportunity to see the real Severus. And the real Severus was sweet, kind -- to her at least -- funny and the most intelligent person she had ever known. She couldn't have denied him if she tried.
“I suppose it does,” she responded softly, while giving his hand a squeeze.
The pure joy in his returning smile nearly knocked the wind from her.
***
17 December 1976
Over the course of the next week, Hermione and Severus hadn't had much of a chance to enjoy the beginnings of their new relationship, since exams were happening. They'd spent most of their free time reviewing their notes and textbooks together, or working on Hermione’s project. Even though she had already taken these exams, the compulsion to excel in everything she did took over, and she found herself exhausted, yet confident that she'd done well, by the time her last exam was finished on Friday afternoon.
“Thank Merlin those are finally over,” Severus said, as he and Hermione walked the corridors together. “Now we’ll finally have some time to ourselves.”
She squeaked when he pulled her by the wrist, and wrapped his arm around her waist, before bending down to kiss her right in the middle of all the students who were in the halls.
At first she was slightly alarmed, since it was the first time he had ever shown his affection for her so openly in front of the student body. But she tucked that away and let herself melt into his kiss, not caring who saw, or what they might have thought.
When he released her she swayed on the spot and felt a slow burn fill her cheeks. But besides a few people whistling, or telling them to get a room, no one really seemed to notice them. Hermione was a little embarrassed by the taunts and jokingly slapped his arm.
“What?” he asked with false innocence in his widened eyes.
Hermione snorted and shook her head, then continued her walk towards Ravenclaw tower. Severus quickly fell in step beside her once more.
“I wouldn't have pegged you for the public display of affection type of person,” Hermione told him.
Severus snaked his arm around her waist again as they walked, and he shrugged.
“Just making sure everyone is clear on the fact that you’re mine. Black could certainly take the hint,” he responded with a bit of venom in his voice.
Her eyes rolled. “Don't be silly, Severus. Sirius Black is no threat to us at all, and you should know that,” she scolded.
He mumbled something about ‘big shots’ and ‘thinks he so great,’ which Hermione chose to pretend not to hear. Yes, Sirius still came on a little too strongly with her, but she'd made it perfectly plain that she would have preferred to attempt snogging the Whomping Willow rather than him.
“Care to help me work on my project?” she asked in an effort to change the topic.
He frowned down at her, then let out a heavy sigh. “I thought we would take a break tonight, considering we've been working non-stop all week.”
Spending an evening with Severus not doing any work was very tempting, especially when he sounded as dejected as he did when she asked, but she couldn't let him distract her from something as important as the antivenin.
An idea struck her. Hopefully Amelia wouldn't end up too angry with her for cancelling the plans they had made for the following day.
“I'll make a deal with you,” she said. He raised an eyebrow in response. “Help me work on it tonight, and tomorrow you can have me -- work free -- the entire day.”
Compromise was a key component to a healthy relationship after all.
He mulled it over for a few seconds, before kissing the top of her head.
“Alright. You've got a deal,” he agreed.
She breathed out a sigh of relief, since she'd been itching to get to the Potion’s classroom all day. Hermione and Severus had a theory they'd come up with, and she'd been anxious to try out. If it proved to work, she couldn't afford to waste any time, and wanted to get to it right away.
Once again the evening found Hermione and Severus bent over a cauldron, but this time Hermione felt she had really made a giant leap forward. Nothing had exploded, turned to a tar-like substance or caught on fire. Nor did the mixture she had brewing fill the air with noxious fumes, causing each of them to place a Bubble Head Charm upon themselves. It was a positive sign.
The mixture of Unicorn Horn powder, Griffin Claw powder, Boom Berry juice and Nux Myristica was simmering over a low heat. After much research, she found that it would be best to let this portion stew for at least a month before adding the Jobberknoll parts. After which, she would let that sit for an additional week, before hopefully adding the Phoenix tears. If her and Severus’ calculations were correct, and between the two of them she was positive they were, then she would have the perfect antivenin. There was still only the issue on how to test it.
As she sat back on her stool, she began to think of how she could possibly do that. Perhaps she could manage to get some Acromantula venom, ingest that, then administer her potion? It wasn't the same as snake venom, but it was powerful and extremely rare. Not to mention every bit as lethal as she knew Nagini’s venom was. It was a long shot, but it was all she had at the moment.
“What's the matter, Hermione? You're a million miles away,” Severus asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She shook her head and gave him a smile. “Nothing. Just going through all the steps we went over in my head again,” she lied.
He nodded. “I think we’ve really got it this time,” he told her confidently. “They'll be so impressed, there won't be any way you don't get that apprenticeship.”
Severus looked so proud of her in that moment. She had never imagined he could look at her in that way.
If only it were that simple, she thought to herself. If only it were a mere matter of getting into that program or not. Obviously she still would have obsessed over her work if it had been, but not to the point she had been, when it's success meant the difference between Severus living or dying. She tried to push that thought away, too afraid that the anguish of it would clearly show on her face.
“You've been loads of help,” she said with a small crack in her voice.
Severus chuckled. “Well if I didn't, I wouldn't have seen you half as much.”
She blushed at his words and felt her heart squeeze. “Why do you think I asked for your help?” she admitted. It was part of the reason, after all.
He placed his finger across his bottom lip and pretended to be thinking. “Oh I don't know,” he said airily, “because I'm better at Potions than you are.”
Hermione cocked an eyebrow and laughed. She then sneakily flicked her wand under the desk, sending a very light Stinging Jinx at his leg, causing him to jump and nearly toppled from his seat.
He let out a small hiss as his hair fell all into his face, and he rubbed at the spot the spell had hit. Hermione laughed harder.
“That may be, but clearly you're not better at spells,” she taunted.
Severus stood from his seat with his hair still covering his face, and stalked over towards her. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“You don't scare me, Severus.”
He pushed the hair from his eyes and raised an eyebrow at her. A slow predatory smirk spread across his lips before he grabbed her around the waist, causing her to squeak in surprise, and tickled her unmercifully.
She squirmed off of her stool in an attempt to get away from him, but it was no use. He had too strong of a grip on her. Hermione pleaded for him to stop between giggles.
“This is what happens when you hurl jinxes at your innocent boyfriend, Hermione,” he said playfully as his fingers continued their assault on her sides.
Again she felt her entire body burn for Severus as the two play fought. He sparked a need in her that she hadn't ever felt with any other boy. She panted, begged for him to let up, and laughed, then figured a way to make him stop. Hermione threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He immediately stopped his attack, then pulled her tightly against him and snogged her back with as much heat and passion as she felt in that moment.
Then just ask quickly as she drew him to her, she pushed him away and stepped back.
“I - I give up. You wi - win,” she huffed, then placed a soft peck on his cheek.
Severus gave her a smug smile in return and the two walked back to the desk together.
“If that's how you get me to stop, I may have to attack you more often,” he teased as they both sat down.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Next time I may not be as nice, and may stop you with another Stinging Jinx. And trust me, next time it won't be in the leg,” she responded in a sugar coated voice.
His eyebrows raised and a low chuckle escaped him.
“We should probably clean up and get out of here before Slughorn catches us not working again,” said Severus, who was still smiling.
Hermione nodded and couldn't help but to think how happy Severus had been for the last few weeks. It warmed her heart to see him that way, and it made her even happier to know that she was partly the reason for it. Perhaps that was exactly what he needed in his life -- a little happiness, and someone to show him kindness. She desperately hoped that her presence there was helping her achieve her goal in showing him that his life was worth it.
“What are you so smiley about?” He asked with a laugh.
She turned from her bag she was putting her belongings into and looked right into his eyes. “You,” she responded truthfully.
He appeared a bit taken aback at first, almost like he couldn't believe that he could possibly make anyone happy. His brow furrowed before it softened out and his lips tugged upwards. He got up from his seat, walked over to her, then wrapped his arms around her tightly.
“I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but I'm glad I have you,” he whispered into her hair.
She felt her throat tighten. “I'm glad too, Severus. I always will be. Remember that. No matter what, always remember that.”
Severus kissed her forehead. “I’ll try.”
#snamione#snamione fanfiction#hermione x snape#harry potter fanfiction#hermione granger#severus snape#young severus snape#time turner fanfiction#hermione time travel
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