Rubbish Day (part two)

There weren’t many Porsche in this condition. Ever since James Dean wrecked and killed himself in the same car, they were prize possessions and most were repainted, reupholstered, and otherwise ruined by zealous owners in an attempt to copy the car Dean drove on that fateful day.

Jerald could have driven any of his cars, but he chose the Porsche on this day because he was on an important mission. Perhaps even a dangerous mission. The weather was nice, the sun was shining, it was not too hot, and the Porsche gave the day – and his life – a nostalgic feel. Today, Jerold was taking his life back from the all the indecision he had surrendered to over the last two decades. He was taking charge of everything and making sure he was in control of everything that happened to him.

When the Honda suddenly jumped up it’s speed in an attempt to pass the Porshe, Jerold swerved aggressively and cut it off. “You shall not pass,” he said to no one and laughed a little. The Honda sped up and tried to stay on his bumper, but it was easy or Jerold to pull away from it. He gunned the motor a tad and looked in the rear view.

The Honda tried to pass again, but at the last second Jerold gunned the motor and pulled away easily. The Honda had no choice but to follow at a distance. It had no chance against the Porsche.

Of course, the young man driving the Honda couldn’t have passed the Porsche even if he had a faster, more powerful car. Jerald was a much better driver.

It amused Jerald, as he watched the driver grow visibly angry, but he didn’t want to put any of the other drivers in danger, so he did not taunt the driver. He did not want him to become any more aggressive than he had been. That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

Jerald kept his eye on the Honda in the rear view and thought of an endgame. This couldn’t go on for much longer or they’d both get hurt or go to jail. The driver showed no signs of slowing.

Then,unexpectedly, the driver flipped Jerald the bird and sped toward him.For a moment, it looked as if the Honda was going to ram the rear of the classic, but at the last second it backed off.

Maybe,he backed off because he thought better of it or maybe he was a coward. At any rate, and with a sigh of relief from Jerald, the cars did not collide.

Jerald pressed the clutch and revved the engine. He easily left the Honda in a cloud of black smoke. After that the Honda never gained an inch that Jerald didn’t offer.



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Rubbish Day

Rubbish Day: part 1

from the storming and suffering thoughts of:
Thadd Presley

 Jerald watched the quick little Honda in his rear view mirror as it weaved dangerously through traffic. Twice the boy behind the wheel cut in front of the cars he passed too quickly, nearly hitting the drivers not paying close enough attention. Every time the Honda bolted ahead, another car came close to a collision. Each time they successfully forced their way in front of another vehicle, or forced someone onto the shoulder, the driver and his long-haired passenger laughed.

Jerald decided they’d taken their dangerous game too far when they cut in front of an unsuspecting old woman causing her to push her brakes too hard. The car behind her swerved onto the shoulder in a bold effort not to hit her. It was all too close for comfort.

As the two men sped away from the moderate traffic jam they created,Jerald stayed ahead of them watching and waiting for them to make their move. They were a few car length behind, the moment they set their sights on him. But, Jerold wasn’t a Sunday driver. He was ready for them. He loved his car and he knew how to drive it.

Cars had always been one of his passions. He’d spent more than a few weekends of his life on the dirt track at the Warzburg Speedway. He and his daughter shared love for numbers and math, but cars were what made his world go around.

He happened to like the particular car he was driving on this day more than any other. It wasn’t his only car and it wasn’t his most expensive car, but it was the one that he dreamed of owning for the longest. This was the car that began it all.

He was fourteen when he saw the 1955 Porsche Boxster 550 in a magazine his father kept in the bathroom. The page was bent in half to mark the place and a circle was drawn around the name at the top of the page. From that moment, the Porsche meant more to him than any other car he’d ever owned or wanted. He dreamed of buying it and giving it to his father, but the coal mines were adverse to dreams. A cave-in and a small underground explosion closed Jerald’s dream forever.

He still bought the car when he found one.

Of the other cars Jerold saved and worked for, the Porsche took the longest to find. It was a life-long dream and a heartbreak come together all at once.

Jerold’s car collection stood at eighteen. Most of them were bought and restored just for him by a local mechanic and friend, but the Porsche was different. It’s condition was not spectacular when he found. It was found on Craigslist and it needed more than a little TLC.

From the photos, there was no doubt that it needed a paint job. But, it was the original 1955 paint, the same color as the one in the magazine, and that was the way it was going to stay. It was exactly the way, he always dreamed it would look.

The brakes, belts, and tires were the only things changed on the car;give or take a filter and a fuse here and there, it was the same car it had always been. Not a cherry by any means, but he loved it.



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Secret Lyrics 2

Secret Lyrics (part 2)

In all things thou undertake
to do or think
use the gifts given unto you,
without rashness or severity,
having a reverence
demeaning yourself peaceably
to the profit of yourself
and your neighbors respectably.


Live to yourself
and the Muses
avoid the friendship
of the Multitudeness:
Be covetous of time,
it is beneficial to all men.
Use thy Gifts,
be thou ever vigilant

Dirt

Dirt

by Thadd Presley

Hubert jumped his Huffy and felt invincible. The dirt ramp ruled. Everything was perfect. The street bully was grounded and chicken casserole would be for dinner. The next jump would break his personal record.
The record was five feet, nine inches and marked with a pink chalk line. Hubert was sure he would hit six feet, easily.
Legs pumping harder this time; up, down, like pistons. His eyes on the ramp. Blast off, in three, two…
Then, from the bushes came something fast: “Arrrhhhgg!”
He jerked away from the sound. The handle bars twisted, the bike flipped. Hubert tasted dirt, face first.
“Got you!” The boy was bent double laughing so hard. “Oh, I got you.”
From the ground, Hubert yelled: “Thought you were grounded!”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Secret Lyrics


Whosoever would know Secrets,
let him know how to keep
secret things secretly;
all will be revealed unto thee

and to reveal those things
that are to be revealed,
and to seal those things
which are to be sealed:

and not to give holy things to dogs,
nor cast pearls before swine.
Always Observe this Law,
the eyes of thy understanding shall not be blind

to understand secret things;
keep secret things secretly
and whatsoever thy mind desires
will be revealed unto thee.

I Can’t Remember

I Can’t Remember

by Thadd Presley

Frantic urgency pushed his failing memory into action. Who was the young woman in the faded photograph? The pictures were placed strategically to help him remember things and people from his past. Why couldn’t he remember this woman? She was in many of the pictures.
For a long moment, he stared at the small, pale face inside the brunette bob. She wore a cloche hat and a fluffy shawl. “Who are you?” he wondered aloud. Then louder: “Am I supposed to know you?”
“Dad?”
“Albert! Be a good boy. Tell me who she is and I promise not to forget this time.”
“That’s your wife, dad. My mom.” He waited and watched, hoping to see a glimmer of recognition in his father’s face. “You remembered her yesterday. You told me she used to…”
The old man raised his hand and waved his son quiet. “I can’t remember.”
Albert took his dad’s hand. “I know.”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

An Arm and a Leg

An Arm and a Leg

by Thadd Presley

The teenager’s scream momentarily filled the bedroom like an expanding marshmallow. Everyone watching felt the electric shock of pain as the bone snapped. Then, with a plop, the finger fell to the hardwood floor.
And just like that, for those who paid to watch a live amputation, the show was over. But, the act was captured on four devices and uploaded for an online audience who would pay to watch it again and again if they so desired.


“How many online now?” Adam asked, holding a fluffy, red-stained towel around his throbbing hand.
“Thirteen thousand watched it live.” Mary chimed. “And it’s going up.”
“Donations? I want to know how much money. I can’t see the screen.”
“O.K. O.K.” She said quietly. “It’s over eighty thousand. Eighty-one, now. No, eighty-two…”
“Yes!” He had done it. Cut his own finger off for money and it was worth it. “That pays off my student loans and mom’s house with some left over.”
“A bunch left over it looks like to me,” Mary commented as she watched the donations cross the hundred thousand mark.


Adam felt a wave of dizziness passed through him as he laid back in the chair. “You think I’ll need to put t in ice for the hospital?”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“O.K. Let’s just go. Maybe they can sew it back on if we get there in time.”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

GI Joe Cellphone Camera Proof

I have been revisiting my past by watching old cartoons. I found out quickly that I still enjoy the Hanna Barbara characters, but the Loony Tunes episodes fall flat. Eventually, I began to remember some old favorites like the Thunder Cats, Blackstar, He-Man, Silver Hawks, and Smurfs. That’s when I landed on a website that hosts enough cartoons to keep me and anyone busy for years.

So, I come to the reason for this post.

Last night I was watching “G.I. Joe: Operation Dragonfire” which is a two season series that aired in 1989. In the Episode “Kindergarten Commandos” (Season 2: Episode 5) one of the Joe’s pulls out a cellphone with a camera. You will see it for yourself at 3:33, if you can believe that.

Yeah, I know… I know. They rub the truth in our faces and dare us to question them.

I couldn’t believe how much it looked like the cameras we have today. It’s placement on the cellphone is right on and it makes me wonder just how much farther ahead technology is than we know? I’m sure we have no idea unless they give us hints like this.

The official release of the first camera phone was in 2002, but some say it was 2000. No matter which is accurate, someone knew about them and gave it to the G.I. Joe’s in 1989.

Take a look at the screenshot for yourself.  The video link is above.

How to Strengthen Your Will Power

What is Will and what is it capable of? How can you strengthen it?

I believe that everyone’s Will, no matter who they are, can manifest anything they desire. All they need is to train their mind to connect to the higher source and make use of it. It’s in the higher functions of the brain that the Will Power is found and finding it involves long periods of quiet deliberate thought.

One way is meditation.

The Will can be imagined as a radio that can transmit and receive as needed. The power you put behind your side of radio is up to you. It does just as you want and it will react faster and stronger the more attention and intention you place in it.

Your Will does not need to be trained, but your Mind does.

The mind is an amazing instrument and the power you put into it projects the Will just as a radio tower broadcasts a song. It is through this process that your desires manifests.

Remember that you are only half of the equation.

Once your Tower (Will) is broadcasting your desires, it will connect to other sources and manifest them into reality. One of the great rules is to not worry about how they will manifest, but think and act as if they are already in your life. Actually try to feel the emotions you would experience if you had them.

Those who have developed their mind so that the Will Power can manifest through it, has opened up wonderful possibilities. Not only have they found a great power to change their life, but this secret is the magic which opens any possibility you can imagine.

Resolve is what makes a man manifest; not puny resolve, but crude determination; not errant purpose – but that strong and indefatigable will which treads down difficulties and danger, as a boy treads down the heaving frost-lands of winter; which kindles his eye and brain with a proud pulse-beat toward the unattainable. Will makes men giants.” –Donald G. Mitchell

Jack’s Apartment (part 2)

The apartment he picked out on the fourth floor had a small table in the main living room, where he sat with his macaroni. On his left was a doorway to the only bedroom, which was really small, and beside that, a door opened onto the bathroom. There was a fourth room, but it was locked and so far had been inaccessible. He had keys to all the rooms on the fourth floor since part of his rent was going to be repair work, but none of the keys opened this door. The lock was older, probably left over from a century before, and because it was his first day in the apartment, he didn’t want to be a pain to the land lady, especially if it meant she would have to drive all the way back into the city and open it herself. She would be back in a few days to inspect the work he’ d be doing and make sure he was as good a carpenter as Adam said. He could wait and ask her about the room then.

For a moment, with food paused in mid flight to his mouth, he thought about when he’d met her. She was younger than he’d imagined when Adam told him about her, and she was beautiful. She asked him questions about his past and where he used to work. She reminded him that the floor had not been used for thirty years, so he would have to wear a mask when he worked.

“Who knows what all is considered toxic these days. The paint is lead based, I know that for sure; the tile has asbestos in it, as does the insulation and ceiling tiles, and probably there would be more than that. Do you understand that you have to wear the mask? It is very important.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Legally, no one can live on the fourth floor yet, but since Adam has been so good to us in the past, I’ve decided to make an exception. What we need to do is get your room up to code and as close to livable as fast as we can, both for your health and in case of any problems we might have with the inspectors.”

“I understand. I’ll start in the apartment and work my way into other areas.”

Then came the question he knew was loaded. This was where she would decide everything. “So how long do you think it will take to do the entire job. I mean, the floors, the doors, the trim and painting, we have to replace the ceiling and there will be more, lots more, when we get into it deeper?”

She smiled when he said, “four months should get us to a good point. After that we will know exactly where we stand.”

“I’ll know where we stand in one week, Mr. Solsbury. I want to start renting that floor as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. Four months is just my guess right now.”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.