She put down her ***** Collins that kept her body and mouth cool on the long hot summer days of late July  and said "we need to talk" her eyes shifted away from the man in front of her as he looked up from his near emptied glass of scotch and soda, the only telling sign that she was uncomfortable with the topic she wished to discuss.

He already knew what she wished to talk about. He had known for almost three weeks if she would've waited two more days to bring it up. He always saw patterns in life where non existed and with her it was no different. First her hair changed. Sometimes it was a hair cut and other times it was a dye job and other times it was both. She decided to go with purple streaks in her fading black hair this time. She talked about cutting it but was afraid she wouldn't look cute enough anymore. Second was the collection of new admirers. She had no real female friends so she would befriend guys and they would feed her ego and tell her she looked good and she could do better and if they were together and other lies that men tell women just to bed them that women always fall for. Sometimes an affair was involved and sometimes it wasn't. He was never sure to believe her when she told him in the end. His trust had become nonexistent in these later years of their relationship. And lastly were the texts from her friends. The words would flicker on screen and she would reach for her phone and block it the best she could from anyone's eyes but her own. He had not read any of these texts but had caught names here and there and she would always say she was talking to her mother. Her mother had some manly names. His mind would make up conversations worse than what was being said and he never believed them but they were there in his thoughts always playing. He knew for  three weeks save two days that she was hiding something from him and now was the time to talk about it. She wanted to talk about their marriage. He wanted to end his troubles.

The tide rolled in on a moonlit beach
Her name traced into the sand
Washing away when the water receded
My Paper Queen
And Razor King
Shredded in love
And smothered in blood
Laid where the sea could not reach
Laid beside one another
Hand in hand
Eyes staring nervously upon the Heavens
Waiting, deadly, deathly
For the rise of the sun
And the last image fleeting
As the blood washes away with the sand

The ending to your voice haunts me
Late at night when I'm tearing into my flesh
with words I've cut from train wrecks and false hopes
I can hear the echo of your presence creep onto me
with my numb heart beating pacedly
and raptures of flesh rupturing,
my spine tingles in sensations I've longed for years to grasp within me,
these fleeting moments fleeing my wanting arms
turning me inside out, spilling this ink on splintered handrails
exposing my ribs for you like a delicacy you have yet to enjoy but readily dig into
my cavities craving, devouring languidly from your wistful whispers
the faintest sketch of your ghost whistling past my ear
like the way I've known how you could laugh all along
these splinters scriven into the palms of my hands
as Dawn rises with practiced perfection on the outside world
the coldness of breath overtakes me filling my lungs with icy lavishness
The ending to your voice haunts me from worlds I've never known
and from worlds I've longed to be a part of.

Am I tolerating so greatly
The scraping of your nails
On the hollow of my chest

Inside I burn the one for me
Pulling further into deception
I waste this bullet meant for you 

Breaking the stone
On my back I carry this thru
Four in a row 

I've grown soured to this drink
You pour down my throat
Like the ocean tastes of salt

We are all anorexic in here
Purging our mouths with words
We can't touch

I don't want to
Want to waste away
To waste away with you

I don't want to
Want to wither away
To wither away with you

I don't want to
Want to fail
To fail with you

Everyday is a dancing dream
And a disjointed smile
Stuck somewhere between
A forethought and the after
Dwell upon the lost thought
Singing songs in a downpour
Sitting across the train tracks
Gazing into the forest
Waiting for the water to come
And drown us all

Who is more advanced?

The caveman that stalked, killed, cooked
Ate his meal over a fire he built
From rock and wood

Or the guy high atop the high-rise
Who pushes a button on the microwave
That cooks the food
That came frozen and pre pre prepared
From some machine ran farm factory
Out in the middle of the wastelands
Far from where any last civilization lived

Who is more advanced?

Cave man or modern man

She screamed she was swarming with locusts
Halos circling above her head like vultures
Eyeing carrion cooking beneath deserted desert sun
Maggots grew from her fingertips stretching towards me
Like tentacles grasping for the softness of my throat
Pulling at the strings of my heart with her personal touch
Compassion bruised corpses on the dance floor bump and grind
Fragile angel wings diseased with lice and fleas
Flying or falling from the grace of Heaven’s Gates
The last supper plagued with conversations of you
Impending deceptions and its weight in gold and blood
The solitude of bayou country and banjo twangs
The skepticism of fabled story tales
Condemnation of indulgence and redemption
The lies we’re fed from birth to death

I've neglected
This sordid sin
To mourn
My tattered skin

Sunday I seek
A warm place
To fill my lungs
With breath I've sought
To hide a moment

A warm room
To rest
A warm room
To neglect
A warm room
To forget

This cigarette burns slowly
I watch the ashes fall to the ground
Nursing a martini as if I'm in a NASCAR race
The sound of summer explodes

To trust any words heard
Or spill any voice spoken

To raise whilst contempted
Razed truth asunder
Under bequeathed breathless wonder
Slandering o'er verisimilitude
Tumultuously timid wounds

Seems a deathly mistake
One shall not afford to make
More than once to thy grave
Each fault lies contemption
O'er silver seas sown distention
Nearer to thine own heart
E*vermore beats in desolation

Jared held his breath.

He knew this was going to be a very close race going into the final weeks of the election but he did not anticipate such a nail biting last minute count. He took a long swig from a local artisanal beer that had been brewed as a tie-in with his campaign. His slogan was emblazoned on the side of the glass and a scene showing the peace that would come when he was in office was depicted on the label. he knew the beer was a campy campaign gimmick but he felt above his opponent by bringing in local businesses as part of his election. Jared knew his win would be won by the proletariats and not the business classes that the other candidates catered to. He savored the hoppy taste on his tongue as he gulped the ale back and sat the bottle down on the table allowing the beads of condensation to puddle up and leave a ring. His wife would be mad at him for not using a coaster but he had made it okay with himself by reasoning that when, not if, he wins the election he will buy her a new table. One that matched a certain house painted white.

Jared ran his fingers thru his slightly balding blonde hair and couldn’t believe he had made it to this moment in his life. It felt like just yesterday when he had passed the bar exam for New Vegas and celebrated with his buddies by renting out a tennis court and getting wasted.

But that was nearly forty years ago and much had changed. He saw his country torn apart as he reached his thirties and watched the States die and be reborn as new states, watched with tense shoulders and determination the outcome of the second Cold War as it became the Third World War. He watched his brothers and many of his friends take up arms for their countries and lose their lives in combat. He became a lawyer and fought old and new laws. He saved lives and condemned others. He listened to the politicians spread lies as their power grew and he saw the people grow tired of it and rise up. He saw the tearing down and building up of a new government.

He watched and watched until he could watch no more and had to be a part of the solution.

It was hard going at first getting capital and endorsements to run but he did not let that stop him. He would politic on every corner and his charisma would draw people in and he would win them over with his platform. Soon the street corners became auditoriums became venues became local tv became national tv and the gathering of people grew all the time as well. He was announced as a candidate and immediately went into political overdrive, getting himself, his brand, and his message out to the people as quickly as possible. He was for the people and by the people. A real presidential hopeful in the days that needed a hero to lead them.

He drank some more beer and watched the television as it reported ninety three percent of jurisdictions were reporting in saying that his opponent, Warren, had won but that the race was still too close to call.

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hello?" “Hey-o j-loser," warren said. “Have you seen the good news, looks like I’m winning. Guess you shouldn’t bet against big business. After all they’re the ones with money and we know everyone can be bought, he-haw-he."

Jared put the receiver down, he didn’t feel like listening to Warrens donkey like laughter.

Jared checked his beer and it was empty so he left the tv and walked to the kitchen to grab another one. He twisted the top off and put it to his lips as he walked back to the living room. As he was about to take another drink the news flashed on screen and reported that all precincts were now reporting and that the winner and new president was Jared.

He had won.

The people had voted him in.

The phone rang.

It was Warren again, conceding the race. Jared laughed and told him it was a hell of a race and hung up.

The phone rang again.

This time it was friends and family calling him up to congratulate him.

He took the phone off the hook and finished his beer and grabbed another one and went to looking out the penthouse window at the city celebrating below. Tomorrow he would start on all the promises he had made and he would get his country back on track but tonight, tonight he would drink his beer and celebrate the race being over.

Rain crashes down
Turning every crevice into a miniature lake
Autumn sun turns to Fall
The late warmth of summer replaced by the early chill of winter
Leaves leap from the trees
Littering the ground and road
Like multicolored yard waste
Alarms ring early am
The kids are back to school
Pretending to learn
But it's all about socializing
The adults continue the drudgery of work
No matter the season
They have too many bills
The weather trudges onward
Causing lives to live differently
Accordingly  
Short sleeves become three quarter become long sleeves
sweaters made from thick wool
Flannels absorbing the icy wind
Jackets providing slight warmth to the frigid bone chill
Shorts become pants
complete with soaked leggings from falling rain, thawing snow, melting ice, roadside slush.
Beards are grown from those that can
The rest are left to wrap their naked chins in scarfs and ski masks
Many will hole up in their homes
Pretending that the outside world is a distant memory
A few will go out and play
Living their life for each and every day

I woke early again today
Got slightly dressed and went outside
Started splitting logs in 90 degree heat
A new habit I've picked up
One of many I've filled my time with lately
Habit or hobby - hard to tell the difference anymore
Split a few quickly and worked some knots the best I could before the heat got the better of me and I needed a break
I set my ax down and grabbed a small hatchet and cut down some overgrown bamboo plants
I cut them down only a few months ago
But life changes drastically in only a shot amount of time
And they grow so quickly
They towered above me by near five feet
And now they're only up to my knee cap
I could hear the shortened stalks whistling in the wind, "we'll be back"
And I carried the debris out into the sun to dry to become kindling for a fire
Sweat soaked from clothes to bone
I grabbed another log and raised the ax above my head and brought it down
Using my strength and the weight of the ax to sever the wood into two pieces, neatly down the center
No knots to work thru on this one
I continue chopping and splitting and working until I'm happy with the size of the wood
And I grab another log and keep chopping and splitting and working
Feeling the sun beating down and the sweat pouring down
My mind clear and thinking only of the task at hand
I listen to the morning birds sing and the crickets chirp
Dogs bark in the distance and my dog looks in their direction as if she can see them thru all the obstructions in her way
I add to the rhythm with the whistle of the ax coming down and the severing of the wood
I feel balanced in nature for those brief moments between the neighborhood waking up
And the memories I'm not remembering
I carry some wood to where it will burn and stock the rest near the back for a later date
I wipe the sweat from my brow and a breath in the hot, humid air
Filling my lungs until they can hold no more
And exhale
I fix myself a drink by twisting off the cap of a beer and feel it cool me from the inside as I drink it down
And take a seat on a lawn chair
Petting my dog on her head the way she likes
And I sit out in the sun, out in the yard,
and close my eyes and imagine the peace around me
That I feel inside

Her eyes laid upon my lips with razors in her teeth 
she bites down on my neck with ferocious intent
savoring the taste of what I've given up
                  It's something to bleed for 
       when the boredom becomes too much 

                                   I give in 
                          
                           and I give up 

ravishing the feel of her skin 
                  and the kiss of her cavernous grin...

"You been writing anything lately man?"

"Just IOUs for the government, lawyers, and people who used to call me their friends."

"Sounds rough," Berkley remarked.

Harvard did not respond back. Instead he stared past Berkley's red tipped spiked hair to the girl behind him, watching the small movements she made while dancing to the band onstage. Harvard felt hypnotized by the shake of her hips and the way her quick dye black hair swayed to the left and to the right every time one of her feet left the ground as if she were walking in place.

"...all I'm saying is that someone should do something..."

Berkley was talking. Harvard couldn't focus. He heard his voice somewhere on the peripheral of reality but could not zero in on it. His eyes remained transfixed on the dancer.

"...it's all about helping. You feel drawn to it, ****** in almost to the rush you get from..."

Clips of Berkley's voice echoed in Harvard's ears. Sound bites of a conversation he knew he was part of but couldn't join in on.

The band on stage rocketed thru their set list with the lead singer strutting around in a sequined jacket, doing his best **** Jagger impression but looking more along the lines of a **** head coming down off a high. He played out every rock n roll cliche on stage and the audience cheered him on. Egged him on. The power of rock stardom working the room.

"Thank you Come-Blow-Us Ohio! See you in the morning when we're sneaking out of your house!"

The girl quit dancing and Harvard rolled his eyes back into reality. The past fifteen minutes came flooding into his conscience and he heard entire conversations, **** rock playing, cigarettes burning, beer spilling. It all played in his mind like a slow motion film set to fast forward.

"...I've been doing some soul searching and what I've found is that I lack soul," Harvard heard his voice answering Berkley. He still stared past his friend at the girl who now sat down at one of the tables, the heat of the night stained her shirt and hung closely to the contours of her structure. She smiled at something someone at the table said and Harvard wished silently that he had said something to make her smile like that but felt his feet become anvils rooted to the hardwood floor beneath him when he tried to shift his weight closer to her.

"...There's something about a soul that begs for a creative outlet, if its not being fulfilled it enters into a state of stasis until it withers into the heart of a cynic."

"So I should be creative and my soul will flourish?"

"At the very least you'll have something to bargain with when you meet the devil."

"I've met the devil, good dude, gets a bad rap."

The next band finished setting up on stage and Harvard watched out of the corner of his eye as the girl stood up and sauntered over to the dance floor and began once again writhing in rhythm to the music on the stage. He tried not to stare but again found himself transfixed on her dance and he once again heard the real world shut out and echo around him.

"...hey man, where'd you go?" Berkley snapped his fingers in front of Harvard's face forcing him out of his trance.

"Oh hey...sorry...I...um..." Harvard couldn't forge any words and waiting for his mind to come back to him. "Sorry I don't know what happened, I just kinda zoned out I guess; say anything important?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I solved the dilemma of world peace and everything but its cool no one really wants that."

"Yeah, you're right. Hey I need another beer, you want one?"

"Yeah, get me something hipster."

"PBR coming right up."

Harvard could hear Berkley laugh as he walked towards the bar, paid for the beers, and turned around, walking directly into the girl. He managed not to spill any beer on her and hoped that his tongue would not spill any inappropriate words as well.

"Hi, for me?" She laughed. She laughed harder when Harvard handed her one. She took it and brought it to her lips. He could see a smile hidden behind the clear plastic cup.

"I'm Harvard," he introduced himself.

"I'm Mallory but you can call me Yale. Everyone does.. My parents called me that but never told me why." She blushed at the way the words spilled out of her mouth to a complete stranger.

Harvard smiled and once again found his mind working in slow motion before he blurted out that it was nice to meet her.

"You too..." She hesitated, "I should get back to my friends..." Yale felt that sentence leave her mouth for an eternity and wished that she had not said it. She quickly added, "thank you for the beer, maybe I'll see you again?"

"Maybe," was all Harvard could muster. He felt his legs become rubber and as much as he did not want her to leave he wished she would do so quickly before he collapsed into a pile of beer and clothes.

He watched her slink away back to her group of friends as the world sped up around him. He sipped his beer and gained the strength to walk back to where Berkley stood.

"Hey man, where's mine?"

"Oh...uh...yeah sorry I forgot. Here I'll go back and get it."

"Nah it's alright. I need to go anyway, I have to be up in a few hours..."

Harvard and Berkley shook hands and said their goodbyes. Harvard stayed back and watched the headliner come on stage and start playing. He looked at Yale and smiled as she began dancing again but this time every few beats she would look back at him and a big smile would spread across her face. She did this too many times to count and Harvard suddenly found himself standing closer and closer to her, not sure if he had moved or if she had. He looked around and he was not in the same spot nor was she with her friends.

Yale turned around, happy to see the man she met at the bar behind her. She couldn't explain it but felt as if she were drawn to him and that the closer she was to him the slower the world around them moved. "Hi again," she said.

"Hi back," Harvard fumbled for words again before pulling Yale closer to him and staring at her for what felt like an eternity. She began dancing, slowly at first, pressing herself closer and closer against him.

Yale draped her arms around the shoulders and neck of Harvard and pulled herself closer, grinding herself as close as she could to him. She felt the music around her but danced to a different rhythm, one that only she and Harvard seemed to be hearing.

The world around them stopped moving but they did not notice. They danced together until after the music had stopped playing and the band got off stage. The lights came on and the bouncers and bartender announced last call.

"I think I've been waiting for you," Yale whispered.

"Sorry it's been a long wait, I got held up." Harvard tried to be smooth but failed.

Yale laughed and pulled Harvard closer. "Next time, don't keep me waiting."

She kissed him deep as her friends pulled her away and out of the bar. Their fingers holding on to each other until they could no longer.

Harvard stood in the room and stared blankly at the door. A bouncer nudged him and he started walking towards the door and outside. He got to the curb and sat down, trying to collect his thoughts and let his drunk wear off.

A car screeched to a halt somewhere across the street from him but Harvard barely noticed until the shadow of someone stood over him. He looked up to see Yale. She stared intently at him and handed him a piece of paper.

"I mean it. Next time don't keep me waiting." She said sternly with affection before turning around and getting back in the car with her friends.

Harvard unfolded the paper and looked it. It was her number. He folded it back up and put it in his pocket and started walking, vowing to himself to never let her have the agony of waiting again.

The poet in me
Licks the poet in you

To savor your words
On the tip of my tongue
On the flesh of my lips

To taste what the muse inside
Inspires you to write

To feel your letters
Conspire into words
Filling me with literary euphoria 

To play with your lexicon
Rolling every word on my tongue

The poet in me
Wants to lick
The poet in you

So that I can know
The delicacy of your literature.

I'm in a world of friends
with strange faces,
hipster clothing,
and lives
that I no longer relate to

And I watch them pass me by
Like snow dunes on the side of the road

Sitting on a couch in lotus position with nothing better to do
Than count the seconds until my legs go numb.

Wondering if fleas crawl into the anuses of humans like they do animals.

This thought disturbs me.
Lingering on my consciousness
That the thought even crosses my mind.

Like mothers putting their babies in the microwave.
Like starving an animal to see how feral they become.
Like voting in an election with really only one candidate.

The wicked deeds that exist in the back of our minds.


My legs are numb.
Maybe it’s time to cut them off.
I want a better looking pair anyway.

I once found love and held it close to my heart 
But I cut off its head and fed it to the lions roaring inside me
Spitting it out like a cancerous chunk of lung

I once felt god all around me 
but when I reached out with my carrion hands 
I saw him whither away into the wind 

I once clasped your hand tightly in mine
But pulled free when you mentioned how much you cared for me
Letting you hang off the edge of an abyss to free fall to your death

I once said I'd always be there
I knew this was a lie the second it left my tongue
But I never told you otherwise

{…I only feel  life for minutes or seconds at a time 
fully alive for months or years if I play my hand right
This twisted design of faith, fate, and retaliation
the life we create just to devour and digest
The memories we create just to ignore and forget…}

everything comes to die inside me

And I let it with a grin on my face
And a sour look in my eyes

We started here at the Big Bang
And traced our steps fifteen million years ago
To a single cell being born in the ocean
From the ocean
We crawled on amphibian legs
Lounged in the sun with reptilian pride
Until the trees called our names
We climbed the highest mountain peaks
Just to jump off the edge
We watched the steps of evolution
From beginning to end
As we swan dived
And the judge rated us a perfect ten
We fell into the ocean
And shattered into a thousand amoebas
In a few more cycles
We’re doomed to repeat processes
One thru eight

I wake up to the first note of my alarm
Ringing loudly into my dreams
Pulling me from the depths of sleep
Out thru the ocean of slumber and awake

Never anytime for the snooze button
I have no extra time to spare
I set my alarm for the last possible minute

I stumble into the bathroom
Rough my hair around a little bit
And peel the sleep out of my eyes

I turn the shower on and step in
Standing still for just a few minutes
I think that maybe I may fall back asleep

A lighthearted prayer escapes my lips
Hoping the hot water will be enough
To wake me from this grogginess
But of course it never is

I’d really rather not get ready
And just crawl back into bed

Ten minutes have passed
Now it’s time to get out of the shower
And get dressed

I blindly let the dog out of her cage
Walk her outside to do her business
In the thick early morning fog
She plays around for a few minutes
It’s all the time that I can allow

We rush back up the stairs
And back into the warmth of our home

I hurriedly pack my lunch
From a limited number of choices
And empty cabinets

The dog accepts her treat
And trots back to her cage
She is trained well

The thought occurs to me
That if only people were so well behaved
Maybe I’d enjoy their company more

But I’m running late by now as usual
So I don’t have time to dwell on this thought
As I close the bedroom door
She watches me and I hear her whimper
A soft goodbye with her eyes

I grab my lunch bucket and head out the door
Muttering a poem of early morning under my breath
Which seems to hang frozen in the air

I unlock my car door and slide in
Keying the car on in one smooth practiced process
The radio booms to life because I always forget how loud
I had the music playing the previous day
And my right hand quickly reaches
For the volume **** to turn it down
But only a little
At least until I get out onto the road

Every second of my drive to work
I sit talking myself into not turning back around
To go back home and go back to sleep

Most days I’m successful and I end up at work
Punching the time clock for an eight hour or more shift
Of busting knuckles and periodic book reading

Most days though I really should just turn back around
And go back home and go back to sleep

Most days though I really should never
Have gotten out of bed in the first place

I was there
Wind blowing thru my hair
Feet buried in the sand
Sea water washed ashore
I could taste the night before
Fireworks, spirits, and you
They burned my lips
Like they stained my memories
I watched the sunset
And the fire flicker and die
As the sun rose over the horizon
I held a seashell close to my ear
Heard a tsunami calling your name
The waves came in and receded
The tide swirled and swirled
Circling the shore
I was there
*When the world split apart

Bring your own ****. I
have plenty of alcohol.
Lets start this party.

"They're ******. All of them." Bill said. Pounding his right fist on the bar top before sloppily grabbing his tumbler of whiskey, spilling small but significant amounts onto the wooden top, and bringing it to his lips and gulping it down in one swallow.

"More." He shouted at the old man behind the bar who begrudgingly obliged and poured another four fingers width into the glass.

Bill pulled another fifty out of the pocket of his ***** white button-up and slid it onto the bar top where it rested momentarily in the droplets of whiskey before the bartender picked it up and placed it in the register next to the other four fifty dollar bills that the man had already spent. Though the drinks were only twenty a piece Bill made no move for change so the bartender ignored his growing belligerence and continued to pour.

"They can't all be ******."
The man sitting next to Bill piped in.

"Yes they can." Bill ranted back. "Every last ******* one of them. They speak in lies and loose words. Turn everything around so they're the victim. **** em. ******. All of em." Bill downed his drinks but before he could shout for another the bartender was already pouring a drink for him.

Bill laid down another fifty and drank some from the tumbler.

"Maybe it's the ones you meet." Bill's neighboring barmate pitched in again attempting to offer some wisdom.

"I've met them all. I've worked with them all. I've ****** and been ****** by them all. They all want an Apple but ignore the tree the Apple grew from. Always in some sort of silly competition." Bill answered back.

He finished off his drink but asked the bartender for a soda water instead of another whiskey. The bartender filled another tumbler up from the spray nozzle and put it in front of Bill and said no charge.

Bill laid a fifty on the counter. "From all the ******" he said.

He stood up barely able to stand until he balanced himself by using the stool and once he gathered himself he walked towards the back of the room where the restrooms were.

Bill stumbled in and rested himself at the sink taking a look at the reflection in the mirror. His wire-rimmed glasses were smudged and hung slanted on his lean dorky face and his short cropped hair was a mess. It had been a few days since he last shaved and the admiration of a five o'clock shadow had began to make an appearance on his cheeks and upper lip. The suit he had been wearing looked like it had been through a war itself, all tattered and torn and crusted with stains.

He removed his glasses and attempted to clean them in the sink before drying them off with the untucked tail of his shirt. He put them on. It wasn't much better. Next he straightened out his hair the best he could, struggling to keep his much despised cowlick in place.

He unzipped his pants and pulled his **** out and went about relieving himself in the sink all the while staring at himself in the mirror. When he was done he shook twice before putting it away and zipping back up.

Bill went to wash his hands but looked at the sink and realized it had been clogged and now laid full of his *****. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the bathroom.

His soda water was still on the counter and he started to drink it as the bar's front door opened allowing fresh sunlight to assault it's way in. A tall model-beautiful girl stood in the doorway wearing a suit that showed as much skin as possible. She scanned the room until her eyes laid at the disheveled Bill at the bar.

"Mr Gates" she announced, "the car is ready if you'd like to leave sir."

Bill ordered a whiskey with soda and left another fifty on the bar. His barmate said he understood now why Bill had said they're all ****** after seeing how the woman at the door was dressed. He was laughing as if he had made some grand joke.

Bill stood up off of his stool, knocked back his whiskey and soda, straightened his glasses once more, and threw a strong right hook towards the other man, sending him flying off of his bar stool and on to the hardwood floor. He laid sprawled out, conscious but not moving.

Bill shook his fist. It had been a long time since he had hit anyway.

He walked over to the downed man and told him to never disrespect a woman again.

"But you called them all ******." He replied.

"No you little ignorant man, I was calling everyone in the world of business a *****. There is no loyalty and the only thing that matters is profit."

Bill helped the man back up off the floor and back onto his stool. He laid out a hundred dollar bill on the counter and told the bartender that whatever the man wanted to make sure he got it. Mr Gates straightened himself up again and walked towards the door and after looking around the dingy barroom one last time walked out into the sunlight where a limo was awaiting him.