I’m Just the Enforcer
A tangle of logic with laws that don’t leave an option for getting it right.
A tangle of logic with laws that don’t leave an option for getting it right.
Five minutes before the inspector arrived, Connor decided that he had waited long enough and went to bed and fell sound asleep.
The fictional Jimmy writes an essay on miracles after a conversation with his mother. Are you perpetuating any of these ideas with your children?
I’m making two earlier Christmas stories from this blog sticky and linking them here. I may manage to write a new Christmas story, but these two have been on my mind today. There are at least two ways of going off the rails with charity. One is becoming a scrooge–a stick in the mud, miserable…
“I don’t see where I have anything to be thankful for,” said the 95 year old man grumpily as he trimmed roses in the garden of his suburban home, and looked across the yard at his wife. (Featured image generated by Jetpack AI.)
As the committee meeting started to wind up, the chairman, Randall Cummings, a true elder in the church, turned to the young visitor and said, “Well, you haven’t commented very much. I take it you think these are good ideas or you would have told us.” Virgil Moore had just turned 21, and was visiting…
It all started rather innocently. Or so it would have seemed to those involved. Nobody intended to hurt anyone else. It started during the special collection for the needy taken up early in Advent in order to buy needed supplies to distribute just before Christmas This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any…
The Plant Manager (PM) was not a happy man. Occupying the space in front of his desk, and looking quite uncomfortable were his Safety Coordinator (SC), his Operations Manager (OM), and three shift supervisors. “I thought you were going to improve our safety record,” said the Plant Manager, looking at the Safety Coordinator. “Instead, safety…
I run my fingers over the incised lettering on the sign. At least I think it’s incised lettering. I think it’s a sign. It’s hard to tell if I really have fingers. It’s dark and it’s cold. At the last sign, I thought the number was a nine. If it was, I missed one mile…