691: Eleven is Meaningless

On Christmas day in 1914 an unofficial truce occurred between German and French soldiers fighting on the Western front in France. For one day they set aside hostilities and shared Christmas, bound by the common ties of Western culture and humanity that held them together. This story is often trotted out as a heartwarming and…

690:The Bare Necessities

Wise men in centuries past have mused on the differences between thoughts and desires. Parsed out that fine line between the longings of the heart and the bare necessities which are required for existence. I myself have pondered on this question. I find that while there are many things I could do without, there are…

689: Green Apple

There’s a green apple hanging just out of reach over by the fence. As hard as you try to reach it, the apple will always remain just out of reach. You can climb on the fence and reach for the apple, but just as your fingers are about to close around it you will slip,…

688: The Clothing Of Sister Mary

As is the case in several such orders, the sisters of perpetual adulation have the strictest of rules when it comes to the clothing they are allowed to wear. Each sister is required to sew her own clothes, and in the interest of frugality the sisters are expressly prohibited from discarding old clothes before they…

687: Rip Van Winkle Sleeps

In 1819 Rip Van Winkle wrote a short story entitled “Rip Van Winkle” About a man who goes to sleep for 20 years and wakes up to discover that things changed while he was asleep. Although the story has proved quite popular over the last two hundred years, the adaptations of it have proven themselves…

685: That Annoying Hill

I took another drag on my cigarette, and blew a puff of smoke out the window of my Bentley. The hills I was driving past were pretty nice, but there was one that kind of annoyed me. It’s shape wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, it just annoyed me. “Do…

683: The Adventures of Sure-Lock Homes; Part II

Not every Sure-Lock Home boasted such powerful pedigrees of crime stopping. One such house, nestled into a quiet neighborhood to the south of London, hardly saw a crime in its entire existence. At least, not until Wednesday November 4th. On that night, Jeremiah Wilkers murdered his wife. It was a quiet, peaceful murder. Nothing much…