#american

His mother had always taught him not to ever think of himself as better than others. He'd tried to live by this motto. He never looked down on those who were less fortunate or who had less money than him. But the stupidity of the group of people he was talking to made him change his mind.

All he wanted was a candy bar. It didn't seem like a difficult request to comprehend, but the clerk remained frozen and didn't seem to want to honor the request. It might have had something to do with the gun pointed at his face.

Dave wasn't exactly sure how he had ended up in this predicament. He ran through all the events that had lead to this current situation and it still didn't make sense. He wanted to spend some time to try and make sense of it all, but he had higher priorities at the moment. The first was how to get out of his current situation of being naked in a tree with snow falling all around and no way for him to get down.

One can cook on and with an open fire. These are some of the ways to cook with fire outside. Cooking meat using a spit is a great way to evenly cook meat. In order to keep meat from burning, it's best to slowly rotate it.

There are different types of secrets. She had held onto plenty of them during her life, but this one was different. She found herself holding onto the worst type. It was the type of secret that could gnaw away at your insides if you didn't tell someone about it, but it could end up getting you killed if you did.

It wasn't quite yet time to panic. There was still time to salvage the situation. At least that is what she was telling himself. The reality was that it was time to panic and there wasn't time to salvage the situation, but he continued to delude himself into believing there was.

There was only one way to do things in the Statton house. That one way was to do exactly what the father, Charlie, demanded. He made the decisions and everyone else followed without question. That was until today.

He wandered down the stairs and into the basement. The damp, musty smell of un-use hung in the air. A single, small window let in a glimmer of light, but this simply made the shadows in the basement deeper. He inhaled deeply and looked around at a mess that had been accumulating for over 25 years. He was positive that this was the place he wanted to live.

The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid. "Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.

The chair sat in the corner where it had been for over 25 years. The only difference was there was someone actually sitting in it. How long had it been since someone had done that? Ten years or more he imagined. Yet there was no denying the presence in the chair now.