Message-ID: <44383asstr$1064020206@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030919184159.94695.qmail@web20505.mail.yahoo.com> From: Lazlo Zalezac X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 19 Sep 2003 11:41:59 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} John Carter I 03 (mf mmf ffm mm sci-fi) Date: Fri, 19 Sep 2003 21:10:06 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! SiteBuilder - Free, easy-to-use web site design software http://sitebuilder.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "JC03.txt" begin> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the consent of the author. John Carter By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003 Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass Chapter 3 He waved to Lily from where she had dropped him off as she drove away in the Winnebago. Lily had been kind enough to drop him off here where he could replenish his supplies and catch a bus. In fact, she had insisted that he visit this particular store suggesting that he would get outfitted with the items that he would really need. He watched her turn off the main road to one of the back streets. She was followed around the corner by the local Sheriff in his truck. Three days lost because of the Medallion and the two wonderful, amazing, days spent with Lily put him behind schedule. His plan had been to hike to here through the park and then to catch a bus that would take him to the next park he was planning to hike. Having her drop him off here put him back on schedule and, truth to tell, he wasn't all that upset about missing five days of hiking. The past two days had been spent in bed with Lily. It seemed like the only time they came out was to eat, but they had also worked the evening shift at the restaurant to allow George and his wife a chance to be together. He remembered the second morning when they had come in for breakfast how George's wife, Martha, had told them about going to a movie for the first time in twelve years. She was so excited that it had made all of the work worthwhile. Lily was the most uninhibited woman that he had ever known. She loved giving head and even swallowed his come with great enjoyment. That was a first for him. When she went down on him, her tongue touched all of the right areas. She caressed his balls with a gentle touch that only added to the excitement. She knew when he was about to come and took the opportunity to insert a finger into his ass. The sensation had sent him over the edge. When he looked down at her, she was looking back up at him with his cock in her mouth and a smile in her eyes. The only negative thing over the past two days was an increasing restlessness at staying in the same place. It was felt by both of them. Something was calling to them, directing them to go in different directions. He had always known the allure of wandering, but he had never felt it to the degree that built within him over the two days with Lily. It drew him on again towards the door of the store. He walked to the entrance of the store and held the door open for an elderly woman leaving. He entered the store and looked around. Laid out before him was an amazing selection of hiking and camping gear. This was not a normal store. It had everything from arctic to desert gear. There was a dog sled, mule packing gear, and mountain climbing equipment. As he wandered the isles amazed at the selection, the proprietor finally caught his attention, "Hey young man, you need to put your pack in one of the lockers at the door." John replied, "Sorry, I didn't realize. This is amazing. I have never seen so much camping gear in one place!" The proprietor smiled, "Well, I tend to wander a bit myself, so I stock everything I might need." John studied the proprietor and guessed he was about seventy years old. He was a short stocky individual, in excellent shape for a man even half his age. His leathered skin showed the years spent in the sun. Laugh lines around the eyes coupled with the twinkle in them identified him as having a good sense of humor. There was a little tension in his stance as if the man expected John to slip an item or two into his backpack. John walked over to one of the lockers and put his backpack in it. The proprietor visibly relaxed and suggested, "Let's get you outfitted with what you need. By the way, my name is Jed Hart." "I'm John Carter." "Well, John, what do you need?" "Actually, all I need is a good watch, some water purification pills, and matches." "I notice that you're packing light. How long do you expecting to be hiking?" "Well, I just finished a month in the park. I'm taking a bus down to the Big Bend to hike for a month there." "I'm impressed. Most hikers load up with every little gadget they can get," replied Jed. His respect for John rose. He had sold lots of useless stuff to weekend hikers and didn't have much respect for most of them. He asked, "How do you get by so light?" "Thanks, I found that carrying those butane gadgets didn't help over a long haul. It is too much weight if you carry enough to last a couple of weeks. Fancy tents are fine, but I like to watch the stars overhead. A simple tarp is enough for rainy nights and it is versatile enough to serve all kinds of uses. When I do carry something, I like it to be high quality, which doesn't mean fancy." "Smart," replied Jed as he lead John to the water purification area. He watched as John looked over the selection carefully before picking out the tablets. They were simple pills packed in a plastic container. There were thirty pills in a package, so he took two. Jed nodded appreciatively as they were the same ones he carried when hiking. He decided the kid knew what he was doing. He then led John over to the counter. There were matches and watches there. He watched as the kid picked out a simple set of matches with a light coating designed to keep them from crumbling in high humidity conditions. The matches came in a waterproof package. John pulled the watch from his pocket, "Do you have one like this?" Jed took the watch from him and noticed that it was generating random numbers. He was not impressed by the radio-controlled watch that set itself from the atomic clock. He expected John to have a more utilitarian watch that was shockproof and waterproof. He looked up at John and asked, "What happened to it? I've never seen one do that before." "I had a rather strange experience in the park and it started doing that," replied John as a shudder went through his body. He still had not come to grips with the events in the park. Jed studied John at the mention of a strange experience. He noticed the strangely colored beard and the distant look in the young man's eyes. He had an idea what that strange experience had been. He decided to approach the topic slowly, "Yeah, I have a couple of these. Why did you select this kind of watch?" "It has more to do with my work than with hiking," replied John. He added, "A more practical watch would probably be better, but again I like to pack light. That goes for the rest of my life as well." "Reasonable, I suppose," replied the proprietor. He revised his opinion of John upwards again. He pulled out a box that contained an identical watch and set it on the counter. He watched as John checked it out. John fumbled with the instructions and set the time zone on the watch. He watched as the watch finally picked up the signal and set itself. Now it was showing the correct date and time. "Great, I'll take it." "Anything else?" "Not that I can think of," replied John. He looked around the store at all of the goods. It really was an amazing place. He really wanted to spend some more time just wandering through the isles. As Jed rang up the purchase, he asked, "By the way, did that unusual experience in the park involve a medallion?" John started at the mention of the medallion. His hand went immediately to his chest where the medallion hung. He looked up to see a smiling Jed. Jed added, "I thought so. I won't ask for any details." "Thanks." For some reason, the fact that he didn't have to explain was a great relief. He didn't understand the great reluctance associated with telling the story of what had happened in the woods. It couldn't be the rape; that wasn't enough to explain why his mind shied away from the rest of the experience. John pulled himself together and paid for his purchases. He put on the watch at the counter as the proprietor disappeared. He walked over to the bin where he had put his pack. He was adding the rest of his purchases to it when the old man returned carrying a walking stick. "This is yours," stated Jed. He held out the walking stick. John turned around wondering about what the old man was saying. He hadn't forgotten anything. He noted the walking stick and asked, "Pardon me?" "I said, this is yours." John took the walking stick from Jed. It was a work of art. It was five feet in length. The wood was a polished jet black with a brass end-cap on the bottom. The top held a brass frame with a crystal held secure within its grasp. There was what appeared to be an inlaid opal near the top. Three brass rings circled it; spaced evenly along its length. The most surprising thing was its weight. It was relatively heavy. He whistled, "Wow, this is a beauty. I'm afraid it's not mine though." Jed smiled, "I made it and have been waiting for the right person to give it to. It is yours." "It's too nice. You should keep it for yourself." John couldn't imagine the amount of work that went into making it. Jed laughed, "No, I have one of my own. This one is yours. After all, we have one thing in common." "What's that?" "A medallion." "Oh," replied John. He thought about what that meant. He didn't know what to say. Jed took back the walking stick stating, "Let me show you some features of this stick. First of all, it is made of ironwood. That is the densest wood there is and it is practically indestructible. Insects can't eat it and water won't warp it. It won't knick except under the most extreme circumstances. You can hit a bear across the head with it and know that it won't break." "You will notice this opal here on the side near the top. Pressing it turns on a light that is refracted by the crystal giving you a nice sphere of light. The crystal is a Herkimer Diamond. Even though they call it a diamond, it is actually a piece of quartz. The light is located below the crystal and is powered by batteries that are recharged by simple up and down movements of the staff. Using the staff as you walk is sufficient to recharge the batteries. This is very useful in caves or when you absolutely must hike at night." Jed pressed the button and a soft glow came from the crystal at the top of the staff. John interrupted, "That is brilliant!" "There's more," replied Jed. He added, "It can be taken apart into three sections by unscrewing it just below the brass rings. The staff is hollowed out so that you can carry things in it. It makes it light enough to be useful. I'll let you decide what you want to put in there." "Thank you very much. Will you accept anything for it?" asked John very taken aback by the walking stick. "No, it is time for you to leave now. You have far to go and so little time to get there," replied Jed as he returned the walking stick. As John accepted it, it was as though a shock passed from Jed to him. Jed walked away leaving a very confused young man staring at his back. John stood there a second trying to make sense out of the old man's behavior. He realized that Jed wasn't comfortable with praise. He decided that the least he could do was give him a minor blessing and then whispered, "May the Gods and Goddesses watch and take care of you." Swinging his backpack onto his back, John headed out of the store. He was leaving as the Sheriff walked up to the store. He held the door open for the man, giving him a short nod of his head in greeting. The Sheriff returned his nod. John stopped and considered his options. Many little stores lined the street, but nothing looked like a bus station. He considered each store trying to decide which would be the best to ask for directions. There were a couple of clothing stores, a little restaurant, a hardware store, and a convenience store. He was surprised that there wasn't a feed store, but that might be on the next street over. He felt drawn to the convenience store. He considered going back into the sporting goods store to ask the Sheriff, but the idea of imposing on Jed again made him a little uncomfortable. He walked to the convenience store down the street to locate the bus stop. It was a small town and he was sure that who ever worked in the store would know the answer. He would get a soft drink as an excuse for being in the store. He didn't drink them very often, but it was a warm day and would be nice for a change. Using the walking stick seemed completely natural; it felt as if he had been using it his entire life. In use, the weight of the stick disappeared. He wondered why he had not used one before now. In a way, he felt as though it made him complete. He entered the convenience store. The first thing that he noticed was the young blond haired girl behind the counter. Her hair was cut short and she had it styled in spikes. She was the first one wearing her hair that way that he found attractive. He wondered what was the name of that hairstyle. She looked nineteen or so; with a nice figure. He wondered for a moment if her breasts were real, as they looked too big for the rest of her slim body. When she smiled in his direction, it was like the whole room lit up. He smiled back and nodded. Looking around the store, he spotted the soft drinks. The isle was rather narrow and getting at the drinks with the walking stick was awkward. He set it down. He slid open one of the doors to the refrigeration unit and knelt down to get one of the drinks off the bottom shelf. It took him a minute to get it out of the shelf. It was lodged in that area where the glass doors overlapped. He stood and let the door slide closed. It made a satisfying thud. He didn't remember picking up the walking stick, but it was in his hand. As he made his way to the front of the store, he noticed a very dirty kid about twenty standing in front of the register. His long and greasy hair was stringy. His clothes were filthy and ripped at the knees and elbows. They hung loosely off his body. As John approached, he could smell him. The young girl looked terrified. It took John a moment to realize that the kid was holding a gun pointed at the girl. He continued to walk towards the counter while studying the kid. He noticed that the kid's crotch was tented and he realized that the kid was sporting an erection. At first, he thought the kid was thinking of raping the girl, but then it dawned on him that the kid was getting sexually excited by the thought of killing her. As the kid raised the gun, John reacted before he even could rationally think about what he was doing. He ran to get between the girl and the kid. Time slowed to a crawl and he became aware of minutia in his surroundings. As he moved, he observed the box of Cracker Jacks on the shelf. The little logo announcing a toy surprise inside brought back memories of childhood. The details were sharp and the colors overly bright. A few steps later, it was a stain on the dirty linoleum floor that caught his attention. Like an inkblot in a psychological test, it made him think of a butterfly and wondered what a psychologist would make of that. Another step and he looked at the face of the kid. There was a zit on the side of his nose. The kid's eyes were focused on the girl. He wasn't even aware that John was in the room. He could see the kid's finger starting to squeeze the trigger on the pistol. Just as he got between the girl and the kid, the gun fired. The strange sense of time dilation held and he swore he could see the bullet as it traveled towards him. As the bullet tore through his shoulder, he spun and the walking stick swung in a wide arc. In slow motion, he fell towards the counter. The front was stocked with all kinds of gum and candies. There was nothing he could do to stop his fall. He hit headfirst on the edge of the counter. Just before losing consciousness, he thought that it was odd that he hadn't heard a sound from the moment that the door to the soft drinks had slid shut to now. It was the last thing that he remembered in the convenience store. Floating in a sea of warmth and tranquility, he looked down on his own body as it lay on an operating table. He watched dispassionately as the doctor and a nurse worked feverishly to restart his heart. Turning, he could see the other world. He moved towards it and found his way blocked by the woman from the park. She shook her head and pointed to his body behind him. He nodded and reluctantly returned. On waking, it felt like he had stepped into a bright light. He flinched as he looked around with blurred vision and a fogged mind. Nothing was clear enough to make out. His body felt heavy on him. The medallion lay on his chest pressing him into the bed with its' weight. A black shape blocked the light in his eyes. He shut his eyes and then opened them again forcing them to focus. His confused brain finally patched together the details; he was looking at a black man. He croaked out, "Issheoday?" His attempt to communicate was not very successful. He struggled to pull himself together and tried again, "Ish she okee?" "You're okay. I'm glad you're awake," the black man replied. The man's voice was very deep and resonant with a strong southern accent. John tried again with longer pauses between words, "Noo ... Ish ... she ... okee?" A puzzled look passed over the face of the man and then he realized what John was asking. He answered, "Ah, you're asking if she's okay?" "Uh-ha," replied John wondering what was wrong with his mouth. He waited for a reply. "You'll have to talk to the Sheriff about that. Right bout now, you might want a lil sip of water to clear out that cottonmouth," he answered. The face disappeared from view for a moment and then returned. He held up a little glass with a bendable straw in it. He placed the straw at John's mouth and stated, "Now, you take lil sips or you'll get sick." Taking a small sip alleviated the dryness in his mouth. He had a little trouble swallowing, but guessed that would be normal. The second sip seemed to help restore his energy. He tried talking again, "Thanks." His voice was a little clearer and the nurse answered in his deep voice, "No problem! This is the third time you woke up and first time you spoke anything except a moan." "I don't want to complain, but aren't you supposed to be a brunette with a big bust, top unbuttoned one button too many, short white skirt, garters and white stockings, and threatening me with an anal thermometer?" The nurses' laughter rang out. It was loud enough and lasted long enough to bring another nurse in the room. With tears running down his face, he answered, "Shit, you're feeling fine. Don't you think I'd look ridiculous with my hair dyed brunette and wearing that outfit?" The other nurse discretely left the room to get the doctor. It was only a minute later before he arrived. He was the perfect Dr. Marcus Welby type, but lacked the bedside manner. Before John even had a chance to react to his arrival, the doctor was prodding and probing various parts of his body. The stethoscope was absurdly cold and John's reaction to it prompted a glare from the doctor. He finally stepped back and stated the sound that all patients hate, "Humm." "So doc, am I gonna live or will I die again?" "You died before?" asked the doctor after he regained his composure. The question had really taken him aback. "In the operating room. Don't you remember?" "Yes, I do. I just didn't know if you had been told or not," the doctor answered as he glared at the nurse. "No one told me. I was there and remember it." "Of course," answered the doctor. He was very disturbed by this conversation. He knew about many studies that suggested that patients that had died and then been resuscitated often remembered dying, but he had never believed it. "So will I live?" "I think so. You are healing much faster than I expected. In fact, I didn't expect you to wake up for another couple of hours." The doctor was surprised at the state of health of his patient. Only four hours before, he had died after suffering a gunshot that had caused him to lose too much blood and a very nasty concussion. Now the patient was talking and acting as if he had just been to a summer social. This was weird and as a man at the end of a long career of practicing medicine, he didn't trust weird. "Can the police interview me now?" asked John. His concern about the young lady had returned, "I want to find out if she is okay." "The Sheriff is outside," answered the doctor. He turned to the black nurse, "Get the Sheriff." "By the way, I'm John Carter. What are your names?" "I'm Dr. Simpson, the one and only doctor in this whole area," replied the doctor. He abruptly turned and left the room. The nurse that had been standing in the background looked around rather nervously. She hated it when the doctor did that. She was usually left explaining his behavior to rather angry patients. John smiled at her and asked, "Your name?" "My name is Lucy," she answered and then added, "Don't mind the doctor. He's overworked. He was about to get some rest when you were brought in." "Well, Nurse Lucy, don't worry about that. I've worked with a lot of people that are far stranger than him." She smiled at the comment. At least this patient seemed to understand. His physical condition after such an ordeal was truly amazing. She stepped closer to the patient and commented, "You really do look fantastic." John was about to reply when the Sheriff entered the room behind the black nurse. Lucy discretely stepped out of the room with a nod to the black nurse. John looked over at the Sheriff and asked, "How is she? Is she okay?" The Sheriff answered stiffly, "Look, I'll ask the questions if you don't mind." Taken aback and wondering what had happened after he lost consciousness, John shrugged, "Okay." "First, tell me about what happened as you know it." John relayed the whole story; at least as he knew it. He was as thorough as he could be. He left out the time dilation effect. No one would believe that aspect of his experience. The Sheriff listened and didn't say a word. He jotted down notes capturing the essence of the story. When John finished, the Sheriff asked, "At what point did you realize that he was going to shoot the girl?" John shook his head and thought back. He answered, "You know ... As I was walking towards the counter, I noticed that the guy had an erection. I mean... this is sick, his pants were tented. I thought that he was thinking of raping her, but then I realized that he was moving away and pointing the gun at her. I realized that the idea of shooting her was sexually exciting him. Can you imagine anything so sick in your whole life?" The Sheriff shook his head and then asked, "You had never seen him before?" "No. I didn't notice him when I came in and I didn't see him come in the store after I had entered." "Did you ever see the girl behind the counter before?" "No sir." "Yet you ran in between her and the gunman without any thought for yourself?" "Sure. Anyone would have." The Sheriff shook his head and looked at the notes he had taken. They confirmed what the surveillance camera had recorded. His daughter had been too upset to tell her side of what had happened. He shook his head, "Well, you are wrong. That guy has done the same thing before today. You are the first to have done anything even though you aren't the only one who has witnessed him doing it." "I'm sure they had mitigating circumstances. Too old, too young, or sick or something." "He's done it eight times before today." "Eight times? I hope you caught him," answered John with a concerned look on his face. He added, "It wouldn't be good for someone like that to escape." The Sheriff stared at the young man in the bed. He could hardly believe this guy was for real. He answered, "Oh yeah, we caught him. He was laid out on the floor where you had knocked him out with your staff." "That was an accident. Is the girl okay?" asked John. He had no idea that he had struck the guy with his walking stick. Talk about luck, this was it. "Yes, she's fine." "Thank the Gods and Goddesses," replied John. He breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the Sheriff, "You have no idea what a relief it is to know she's okay. I've been worried that I was too late to help her." "Oh, I have a good idea," replied the Sheriff. "I guess as Sheriff those kinds of situations come up regularly for you." "Not really," replied the Sheriff. He had been in law enforcement ever since he had gotten out of the military. He had never been in a showdown situation with a criminal like that. He changed the subject, "You're going to have to come here and testify at his trial. I've gotten the information I need to contact you from your drivers license." "Oh that information is changing. I just finished my Masters and will be starting my Doctorate in the fall. I don't have an address yet, but I'll be at the University of Texas. I can give you my parents' address and telephone number. That would be best, they always know where I am." The Sheriff indicated his approval at the plan and took down the information. Finished with that little detail, he stated, "Did you know there was a reward for that guy?" "No." "Well, I've given you credit for capturing the guy so you'll be getting the reward." John was silent for a minute as he thought about the reward. On one hand, it was money and as a student, he could always use a little more cash. On the other hand, there was the woman from the park. He didn't know what role she had in this, but he had the definite feeling that she wouldn't approve. He frowned, "I don't really feel comfortable taking a reward. I'll tell you what, why don't you get that money divided amongst the families of the other victims of that guy. I'm sure they can use the money. Oh and give a little bit to the girl; maybe enough to go out for a good meal or a nice dress or something. I'm sure she was traumatized a bit by the events." The Sheriff looked at the young man lying in the bed. If he weren't a suspicious person, he wouldn't have believed this kid's story at all. However, he had all the evidence before anything had happened that this kid was different. He couldn't believe how different. He had seen Lily drop him off outside of Jed's place. Concerned for her future safety, he pulled her over after she had gotten around the corner. He had wanted to lecture her about picking up hitchhikers. Instead, she had told him about John. She related how he had covered for George at the diner while George had taken a little time off with his wife for a change. He could tell that Lily was quite taken with him. He had stopped by Jed's place later. Jed had been cryptic in his comments, but the gist of it had been to leave the kid alone. Actually, he had stated that John Carter was destined for great things; he was not to interfere with the kid's destiny. It was at that point that he had gotten the call from his daughter. He stated, "My daughter will appreciate that." "Your daughter?" "Yes, the girl in the store is my daughter." "Oh, I didn't know. Give her my regards and tell her I'm glad that she's okay." The Sheriff shook his head. He knew his daughter too well. The damn kid had the morals of an alley cat. She would thank this kid in her own way. He disapproved of just about everything she did, but there was very little he could do about it. He still loved his little girl. He was about to thank John for his actions, but was interrupted, "Well, I guess as Sheriff you have a lot of work to do. I guess you'll be back to ask more questions?" "No, but it would be nice if you could stop by the office before leaving town." John nodded, "Sure, I can do that. Thanks for coming by and letting me know that she's okay." The Sheriff left feeling like he had lost control of the situation. The young man's politeness was quite disarming. He was definitely going to check with the University of Texas to assure himself that the kid was telling the truth. It was just very strange. The kid throws himself in front of a bullet to protect some one that he doesn't even know, dies and comes back, and then acts like it was nothing more than helping someone fix a flat tire. As a law officer, he had been exposed to the bad sides of too many people that appeared nice and upstanding. To find someone that didn't appear to have a bad side was not normal. It just didn't feel right. John watched the door close behind the Sheriff and then turned to the black nurse. He asked, "By the way, I'm John. What's your name?" The black man laughed, "I'm John. Nice to meet you John." John smiled, "Well, Nurse John, I was hoping that when you came back with the Sheriff that your would be hair dyed blond and you'd be all dolled up!" The nurse laughed heartily. He was used to dealing with grumpy patients and to have a friendly one for a change was nice. He answered, "You never know. I might come here tomorrow all dressed up!" "Do you think we can get all of this plumbing pulled off of me?" asked John as he nodded to the tube running into his arm. "The doc will be back in an hour to check on you again. You can ask him then. For now, I suggest that we both make ourselves comfortable." "Oh, so are you going to stay here all day?" "Standard practice here for concussion patients. We don't have all of that fancy monitoring gear here, so you're stuck with me." "Well, maybe you could help me dial a call to my parents." "Sure thing, I bet they'll be happy to hear from you." They worked out the details for dialing the number and Nurse John ended up holding the telephone to Johns ear. "Hello Mom!" There was a pause. "I'm fine. I was shot and died, but I'm feeling much better now. In fact, I feel great." Nurse John rolled his eyes. He could only imagine the effect those words would have on the guy's mother. He could only hear the one end of the conversation. "No, really." "Well, you don't have to come here. I'll probably be out of the hospital before you can get here." "Nah, no need. I've got plenty of money and I'm still covered by health insurance." "Oh, by the way. You might tell Doug that I'm at this great little hospital here in the country. It is next to a national park with great hiking trails. You might ask if he wants to come out here and see me. Who knows, he might be able to get a job here!" "Oh, the doctor here has all of the personality of a wood fence. He and Doug would get along great!" Nurse John rolled his eyes. This end of the conversation was surreal. He had heard all kinds of descriptions of the doctor, but this one was probably the most accurate. He wondered what kind of person would get along great with the doctor. "Okay, I'll give the phone to Nurse John and he can give you the details." "Sure, I'll let you know what I decide to do next." "Okay, bye. Here's John." John looked up at the nurse and stated, "She wants to talk to you." Nurse John spent the next ten minutes talking to John's mother. He couldn't believe how calm she was about the whole situation. If he had told his mother that he had died, she would have screamed and immediately flown here. Instead, the entire conversation was about the possibility of Doug getting a job in the hospital as a doctor. When he had mentioned that John was okay, she said that she knew that. He wouldn't have said he felt okay if it hadn't been true. He decided that white families must be very different from his. After hanging up the telephone he turned to his patient, "You got shot and died, but you're feeling better now! How can you break the news to your mother that way?" "She would have been upset about any other way that I could have put it." <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+