Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 11:12:49 -0600 From: Danny Lloyd Subject: INT: (on another stretch of) Highway 41 Robyn wrote: >She saw the ribbon of the highway ahead of her and passing cars. Someone >would pick her up. > >Suddenly, someone stepped in front of her car. morgan slammed on her brakes >and the car skidded to a dusty stop. she looked into the person's eyes for a >minute, not sure what to say. She blinked tearing her aze from the steel gray >color. Grabbing her pepper spray keychain, she got out of her car to give the >idiot a piece of her mind. Danny writes: Morgan (known as Shirley to her close friends) jumped from the car in her eager attempt to dole out pieces of mind. She almost slipped as she jolted from her seat nearly landing on the pavement. Gaining her balance, she gripped her pepper spray tightly and turned to charge at the wandering stranger. She then saw no one was there. She bowed her head in lonely helplessness realizing she had had another one of her hallucinations. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind, large, hairy hands revealing themselves on her mid-section. She then happily became aware that it had not been one of her dreaded illusions after all. She sucked in her stomach, reducing the restricting hold, and spun on her high heals, pepper spray raised high, and pressed the trigger, splashing the tall, evil stranger square in the eyes. She did all this in seemingly one swift move, after which she extended her hand as far behind her as she could and gave herself a big pat on the back. One more bites the dust. Morgan jumped back in the car, and headed down the road, knowing she would run out of gas any minute, but thankful that there were plenty of wandering strangers out today. Usually they didn't actually attack her, as this one had, a strange experience for her, being that she was usually the attacker. It didn't matter though, since she had been given a wonderful chance to practice her kung fu. If luck held out, she could fell a few more travellers before sunset. --to be continued-- ------------------------------ The on-going chronicles of Master Sleuth Sherman Home I first laid eyes on Mr. Home in the fall of 1979, a night I shall certainly never forget. I was on-foot, which is my typical and preferred mode of travel, returning from a late-evening conference with an associate. I suddenly saw him there, a tall sihloette on the foggy street corner ahead. The neighborhood was deserted except for myself and the mysterious figure beneath the light pole. I might add that this looming street light was in a state of malfunction, a circumstance that added to the enigmatic feel of the moment, the pole's tall darkness mirroring that of the man's image beneath it. His presense there was in itself not an unusual type of occurence, even in the post-midnight realm of this quiet neighborhood. Often there would be an extra, out-of-place feature dotting the unpredictable landscape of this town. Downing was and is a very small, but restless, community. --To be continued--