It was close to the force’s favorite game if you will. Memories of past chaos wrecked on the calendars came to mind;The Lecherous Leprechaun telling...dirty limericks that transformed prudish heroes into the whores they dressed up like…A succubus mocking Cupid that forced heroes and villains to fall madly in love with each other…The twisted 50’s American Sitcom House Mother intent on turning young women into happy homemakers with a need to bare children by the dozens…The Biker Santa delivering. "Nothing happened; no one hurt anyone, nothing got damaged, it was a complete nonevent." There, you see? Nothing to be concerned about," answered the slimy Principal. He was a nice enough guy, clearly more concerned with appearances than in making any real efforts, but I still felt he was slimy because he was obviously more concerned with sweeping everything under the carpet than in dealing with it himself."Just because he wasn't injured this time, doesn't mean that nothing happened," my mother. He then did a few calculations. He said that the inheritance taxes and income taxes would eat up most of what he estimated my profit would be if I sold the house after probate closed. He said I would be better off financially if I had the estate’s lawyer sell the house before probate closed. After he showed me the calculations and explained them, I agreed and had the estate’s lawyer sell the house. I placed everything I wanted to keep in storage and moved out of the house. A friend’s family. Not screaming pain, but a dull, continuous, throbbing pain.I lay there, trying to assess my situation. In a hospital? Definitely. Concussion? Likely. Broken ribs? Likely. Fractured hip and maybe femur? Possibly. Tube in my throat? Definitely. Punctured lung? Possibly. If only half this was fact, I was one fucked up cowboy. Who was I? Colin Stewart. Where was I? Vancouver. Okay, relax. Most of your marbles are rolling in the right places."Colin?"It was the lovely soft voice once again. Kayla! I.
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