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Barbecue Night

“Daddy this coal tastes like chicken” “Off course it does dear. Just eat it and don’t choke on the bones” It was barbecue night last night. A chance
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Aloco-Pop

al•co•hol•ic \ˌal-kə-ˈhȯ-lik, -ˈhä-\ Saturday last, my number one daughter suggested I was an alcoholic. Now that did grate a bit. I closed my laptop, set my glass to
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The Fathom Line

Prologue Certain myths and legends are a childhood rite of passage for us all. We remember sitting enthralled at the story of Snow White, the beautiful young princess
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I Taste Blood

I taste blood. With salted tears, it comforts me. Of busted lips and bloody knees, of thumps and falls, and memories, of childhood scrapes etched in my mind
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