What's your favourite Michael Jackson memory ?

It's one of those moments.

It is really is.

Years from now, you will look back and find you will always remember where you were when you found out Michael Jackson died.

Especially if, like me, you grew up, to his music. If 'Bad' was among the first audio cassettes you owned. If , like me, you grew up watching a black kid trying to fit in with a cruel world by literally turning white... by watching him trying forever to be different and succeeding... by being the ultimate showstopper... the golden glove, the crotch grabbing, the 'hee-hees', the crazy fans idolation... and the music itself. I mean one of my first music video memories is him serenading a girl as only he could in "The way you make me feel". This is the guy who stunned us with the dance moves of "Smooth Criminal". I absolutely worshipped the variety of the album "Dangerous" be it the legendary "Black or White", the trademark "Jam", the haunting "Who is it", the supercool "Dangerous" or just the touching "Will you be there." If you haven't crooned "You are not alone"even once, if you haven't shaken to the beat of "They don't really care about us" or "Bad", my friend, you have not lived. This was the guy who invented moonwalking, made pop music an art form... along with the late Princess Di & Mother Teresa, he was one of the most recognisable icons all over the world at one time.

I'm not going to speak on the court cases, the bankruptcy and the final decades of a life ruined - that's not the Jacko I want to remember.

I prefer to remember him for who he was - THE KING OF POP.

In fact, seeing the grief online, I'm glad that atleast in death, people have been more forgiving of him than they were during his lifetime. I'm glad that like me, millions the world over, will remember his passing away for what it is - the end of an era.

What's my favourite Michael memory ? It's of an era I still consider the best time of my life - my school days and the memory of a friend with an uncanny likeness to the 'black Michael'. He too was a big Michael fan and we used to have the most hilarious times singing and mimicking the King. I still remember his awesomely soulful ( comical ) renditions of one of Michael's most underrated songs- Who is it. Man, you had to be there to see it - him singing to a rapt audience of teenagers in a very cool, heart rendering, ear piercing voice, the gals applauding, the guys beating the desks to his voice, the mega-cool standstill pose as featured in the pic above; sounds silly now, but back then as a teen, life was just about that - living life KINg sized. Enjoying it to the core. You can't replace that time and that era for all the Paris Hilton sagas in the world.

Generations grew up to his music decades ago... generations mourned his early and untimely demise today. I should know. Even my mom was heartbroken watching the news on his death... that says a lot.

What is your favourite Jackson memory... and favourite song ?

Below is the video of his "Will you be there"... I chose it because it shows everything I remember about him - a compassionate singer who loved to be a showman and had legions of supporters at the peak of his career... someone who was loved and respected by all. Someone who was a living God of music once upon a time.

Rest in peace, finally, Michael.

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You Are My Chicken Fry

This is one of the reasons I love YouTube.. where else can you get the world's most romantic Hindi song, Daler Mehndi, a young Will Smith and a butter paratha all in one video ?

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Ching-chongs and tootsies.

Holy invisible panties, Batman !!!

What is it, Robin ?

I just got off the Bat-internet and guess what ?

Has terror struck Gotham City, Robin ?

It's worse, Caped Crusader . Terror has struck the whole internet viewing globe.

What has happened, Boy Wonder ?

The Holy Triad is back again. They're all over the internet.

But that's impossible, Boy. We locked up the Joker, the Riddler and the Penguin in Arkham Asylum. There's no way they got out.

Not the unholy trio, the holy trio, Batman !!!

Oh no !!

Yes, Batman. Accidental pics of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan's pantiless ching chongs and Britney Spear's tootsies have invaded the net again.

Damn it, Robin. There's nothing we can do about it. I should have expected this. After all, they had been quiet all year.

Quiet ? But I've been reading about their sex lives all year, Batman.

Yes, Robin. But it had been awhile since they'd displayed their ching-chongs and tootsies at us. Sure, they've done it in 2005 and then in 2006 and again in 2007 and '08, but it's June of 2009 and there had been nothing. We should have expected this visual onslaught.

Holy definitive strategies, Batman !! What should we do ?

Nothing, Robin. We just accept that they're doing the world a service, showing them what the rich and famous get to have and thus motivating young slumdogs all over the world to try harder to reach Las Vegas and behold the tootsies in real life.

They are the true example that this is indeed the land of the free... where everyone has the same opportunities with these three fair maidens, irrespective of nationality, colour and yes, even gender. God bless those big hearted girls.

Besides, do you know how much a Hollywood gynaecologist costs per appointment ? This way, they just have to email their snaps in and get free consultations... from a million expert non-certified ching-chong experts too.

Wow, Batman. I never thought of that. They're actually doing the world a service ?

Yes, Boy Wonder. They're motivating people to rise above their poverty and misfortunes and reach the path that millions have crossed.

Millions, Batman ?

Well, Hundreds atleast. Now, Boy Wonder. It's way past your bedtime and besides, I thought I told you that visiting such sites was bad for you.

Umm... I'm sorry Bats. I couldn't help myself. I just saw the link and had to click it to see if anything had changed since 2005.

It's alright, Boy Wonder. I understand. Has anything changed ?

Naaa... still the same on all three fronts, Batman. Perhaps you can confirm that ...

I'm sorry, Robin. I wouldn't know. I don't see such nudity. A woman's ching chongs and tootsies are her own business and we mustn't ogle at them. It is our responsibility to defend their honour, irrespective of the size of their tootsie cups. Remember that, Robin. Now off to bed. By the way, those new Teddy Bear pyjamas look good on you.

Holy Morals, Batman. You're the best. I'll head to bed right away.

I'll be right down to read you a bedtime story. I just have to check on a few things.

Robin heads to bed while Bats heads to the Bat Cave and turns on his computer and logs in. A few clicks later and he reaches his destination. He stares intently.

"That stupid Boy Blunder. Still the same on all three fronts, he says !!! Those Britney tootsies have definitely gained some weight."

Downstairs, Alfred the butler is going through the day's mail. He stops and goes through the Batman's credit card listings.

" Nudecelebs.com, Paparazziking.com, dirtyblondes.com.... Sigh !! No wonder they call him the DARK knight."

Author's note : Yes, there are new ( how ironic a term is that? ) accidental pics out. And no, I ain't leaving behind any links to them in this holier-than-thou blog !!! ( you wish !! ). For those of you who can't resist seeing what the rest of the world from America to Zimbabwe already has, here's a hint : G-o-o-g-l-e S-e-a-r-c-h.

P.S. : Use direct, real words in your search. If it worked for 'Robin', it should work for you too.

P.P.S : Ching chong is not a real word. I made it up. It stands for ...ummm.. uhhh.. a girl's ... you know... bajingo.

P.P.P.S : Bajingo is not a real word either.

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Payback

Welcome back. You've been by these dark roads before, haven't you ? You've been to Amberville once before. Well, it's been awhile, hasn't it ? And while your life has changed, so too has Amberville.. So welcome back to the land where everyone has a secret and someone's always waiting to get you....

I turned to Jimmy.

"You see, death really isn't an end. It's more like a pit stop in this never ending journey. In fact, some Indian religions really advocate this concept of reincarnation. I read in a book once that, as per their beliefs, after you die, you became all the animals you killed and ate and only after that, move forward to your next major human life. Can you imagine that ? It's so weird. It almost made me turn veggie, no seriously, man, it did... but then I figured, I'd eaten enough chickens and cows that it's gonna be an eternity before the Lord gets around to my next human life, so why bother ? You know ? Better to do good deeds in this life and pray he'll minus a few chicken lives from our register when we get to 'em gates of heaven. That's what I say anyway. That as long as you don't harm anyone unjustly, you're safe in God's books."

Jimmy didn't look good. He seemed pale, infact. I could see a few blood drops dripping of his head. I couldn't make out his expression though, what with him being upside down an' all. That's the problem with hanging people upside down of a rooftop.. you never know if he's smiling or it's an upside down frown.

He looked at me with his lesser swollen eye. " I hope they kill your bitch... I hope she dies writhing in pain ."

I smiled.

His leg loosened it's grip around my hand... or was it vice versa? His face registered shock for just a second as he fell. After that, the rain carried his scream down towards the pavement. It's raining bad out here in Amberville.

It's raining bodies.

I walk down the stairs calmly. By the time I reach the streets, I expect a crowd to be gathered around the body, expressing horror while memorising every gory detail to tell their loved ones the moment they get back home. I'm not disappointed. The crowd's building up as I walk amongst them, lost in the crowd, a fellow voyeur. I get a brief glimpse of Jimmy lying on the crimson stained sidewalk.

He's had better days. The fall's left him in an awkward pose. He looks like that road sign next to the traffic lights that says "Walk Now."

Heh.

Dead Man Walking.

I chuckle at that. It's the first time I've chuckled in days. And immediately, thoughts of Rhonda wash into my shores.

Rhonda. She's my gal. In this city of muck and grime, she's my angel. We'd crossed paths a few times before we first hooked up.. mostly outside Barney's bar where I'd go to spend the evenings and she'd be outside, waiting to pick up a friendly face... any friendly face... for the night. I guess she liked what she saw in me... God only knows what that was... but she came by one night when I was wasted and.. well, you know how the story goes. I took her over to my place, she stayed the night. I figured it was a pity thing, but turned out, like me, she too craved companionship. It actually worked out well for the two of us, despite our obvious differences. She didn't ask me where I was when I came home late, stinking of beer and skank or why I kept overdosing on my medications and I didn't ask her about her past and how many men she'd accompanied home before me. We just accepted each other.. two flawed creatures completing each other.

We were happy.

And then, last night, I came home to find the apartment door kicked in. The punks had torn down the place. The rooms were a mess like a tornado came by to take a whiz... the TV and my one good sofa were gone. And so was Rhonda. I'd like to imagine she put up a strong fight, but she really stood no chance. She's not built for this kind of thing. I don't know what horrors have befallen her in her past, but she turns foetal when confronted with danger or even a raised voice. And now she was in their hands. Whoever they were.

In the last 24 hours, I've been going over my list one by one. The guys most likely to do this to me. The guys with grudges against me. Big list. I've been paying them a visit. They weren't too pleased to see me. Naturally. We exchanged pleasantries. We exchanged words. We exchanged fists.

24 hours later, I'm still walking the streets, a step closer to finding my gal. Jimmy was very cooperative towards the end of our conversation. You know, right before he took flying lessons of the roof top. He gave me an address. Jimmy was a good guy. Who knows, if we'd been able to work out our differences, we could have actually been good friends.

As I head towards my final destination, I pass by the electronics shop... I catch snippets from the local news channel. "Suspect is reported to be an ex-policeman who was unceremoniously discharged following what officials described as 'bad conduct'. He is considered armed and mentally unstable. Anyone seeing this man should contact the police at this number immediately..."

I look at the screen.

I smile.

"Heh." I mumble to myself. "They got a pretty good pic of me."

Click here to find out the end of The Payback

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Payback - The end

5:40am

The rain drowns out the night skies, slowing me down. Damn this rain. I run as fast as I can, heading towards the orphanage. I can't see too good as the rain fogs the streets, but I can glimpse the first rays of sunlight starting to appear on the horizon. I didn't have much time left.

While working on the force, I'd done a lot of paperwork. Statistically, in Amberville, a robbery takes place every 49 minutes. A rape takes place every 37 minutes. A women gets murdered every 33 minutes. Rhonda's been missing 24 hours. The numbers are against her. Time's against her. Hang on, kiddo. I'm coming.

5:00 am,40 minutes back

There's a "CLOSED" sign over Barney's Bar. I knock on the glass anyway. Persistently. After what seems like ages, Jennie peeps through the curtains. Her face tells me I disturbed her and Barney in something more than counting the pennies in the money jar. I don't care. I wait patiently as she opens the locks one after another, then push my way past her.

Inside, the jukebox strings out Carpenters' “We've only just begun”. Ironic. Barney heads in from the back room, his shirt unbuttoned. His jaw drops for a second when he sees me, but he regains his composure immediately. If I weren't an ex-cop, I'd have missed the terror in his face before his mask set in.

"Barney, you know why I'm here. I've spoken to Jimmy.. "I say it at the start so that he doesn't have to lie. I've spent too many nights here and been carried out to a cab by Barney and Jennie on too many occasions. "Just tell me where she is. I swear I won't hurt Jennie."

He understands what I'm saying. Jennie starts to cry. Barney tells her to go into the back room. She resists, but eventually gets in. We lock the room from outside. I'm a man of my word, but we don't want her coming out at the wrong time and doing something silly.

I and Barney talk. He doesn't resist as I punch him once he's done. He knows he screwed up. His confession is his apology. I go into the freezer and get a cold side of steak, bring it back to him. He gratefully accepts it and places it over his eye, which is swelling up fast.

As I leave, he calls out to me. "You sure you want to do this, Joe ? Is she really worth it ?"

I turn back towards him. "She's all I've got, Barn... She's all I've got."

He understands. "Then you better make it fast. Your best chance is before dawn. There'll be lesser security then. You may just get away with it. But, remember mate, Salvatore won't take kindly to people messing with him." I nod. We stare at each other. He nods back. This is goodbye. I head out the door.

I'm in over my head.

That's the first thing that hits my head as the cursed raindrops sting me. I'm biting off more than I can chew. I thought this was a random robbery and kidnapping. I was wrong all along. I've got myself involved in something far bigger than that.

Barney, Jimmy.. they're all connected. Back in the force, we'd heard stories of it. Organ harvestation. There's big money in it. Only thing is, you have to wait for the person to die before you get the organ.

But someone's been speeding up the process. Taking 'em directly off the streets and killing them for getting the organs. There'd been rumours that a big pharmaceutical company was involved too. We'd suspected they had the Don's henchmen on the payroll. Turns out we were right all along. Jimmy and Barney were their pointers - helping them select those they thought noone would miss.

Only this time Barney had screwed up. He'd chosen wrong. He'd chosen Rhonda.

Barney's question came back to me. Did I really want to do this ? Was Rhonda really worth it ?

5:40am

The rain drowns out the night skies. I run as fast as I can, heading towards the orphanage. I can't see too good as the rain fogs the streets, but I can glimpse the first rays of sunlight starting to appear on the horizon. I didn't have much time left. Hang on, kiddo. I'm coming.

I find the store just where Barney said it was. Plain and unassuming, and hidden away from the streets in a dark alley , it was exactly what they needed for their deeds. I use my pocketknife to open the lock. It takes me the whole of a minute. Damn rain slowing me down again.

Shift change will be in 20 minutes. The skinhead who's on guard duty is lying face down on the desk, asleep. I step up to him, remove the gun he's stuffed behind his pants. I never get why gang members do that. He never moves. I look around. 3 doors. Screw it. I turn back to Sleeping Beauty and slam my fist on the desk. He awakes screaming and, instinctively, his hand goes for his butt, where his gun was a minute ago.

There's bewilderment and a double scoop of fear in his face as he his eyes note my presence and his hands inform him he's missing his piece simultaneously. I solve one puzzle for him, jamming his gun against his cheek.

"Where's Rhonda ?" He looks at me, confused. "Which one is that ?" he asks.

I hit him across the face with his gun. I keep hitting him as teeth fly across the room and blood spurts from his wounds. He begs me to stop. How many more were here, I wondered ? "She's the one with the black mark on her right arm."

He spits out blood. Nods. "I dow dat one. She'dh in dath roomh." he says, his voice thick now. I quickly tie him up so he can't interrupt me further and go for the door he pointed out.I open the door. A long passageway greets me. I head for the door at the end of it and open it as well.

She's lying on the floor, but turns towards me when the door open. Naked as the day she was born, I can see scars on her back where she's been hit. Repeatedly. She tries to get up, but falls back down. I rush to her and hold her in my arms. She's still bleeding from where she's been beaten. I examine her closely. Inspite of myself, a sigh of relief passes through my lips. There are no surgical scars. They didn't get to her yet. I remove my bloody shirt and wrap it around her and lift her. She doesn't resist as she used to earlier. She feels like a limp rag doll. She doesn't say a word the whole time.

I head out the door. As I pass into the main room, I see skinhead still tied up and bleeding from his broken nose. He's smiling. I place Rhonda on the chair at the end of the room and go through the other two doors. The images I see flash-freeze themselves into my head. The other two were not so lucky. They lay dead on the floor, their gaping wounds hiding unsuccessfully the unnatural hollowness of their torso where earlier there were livers and hearts and other gizmos that make us all run.I head back. The kid's still smiling. I stare at my watch. The new guy'll be in shortly. I pick up Rhonda and head for the exit.

"So that bitch's your whore too, eh ? Don't worry. We been treating her really good. Ask her. Towards the end, she was ready to do anything we said just to stop getting whipped."

I stopped. Rhonda looked up at me. She was shaking. I opened the door, placed her slowly outside the doorstep where the rains wouldn't touch her. She clung on to me, scared. "It's ok, Rhonda. I'll be with you in a minute." I entered the room again. Locked the door behind me. I stared at the kid. And smiled.

He stopped smiling.

I prayed the rains would drown out his screams. I imagine they did.

15 minutes later, I opened the door. Rhonda looked up at me. I picked her up, kissed her. We ran down the alley and out into the streets. I hotwired the first car I found on the streets. A Black '69 Chevy. Perfect. As we drive away, I see 3 more distinctive punks slowly ambling through the rain and puddles, huddled under a single umbrella. That's why the change of guard was late.

I say a silent thank you to the Rain God. He had my back all along.

I turn towards Rhonda. She seems exhausted and is just lying on the backseat. She looks at me with her brown eyes. I know this isn't the best time for this conversation, but then there really isn't a better time for it.

"Rhonda... what do you think about us moving away from Amberville ? Somewhere far far away from here ?" No reply. I turn back towards her.

She doesn't say a word, just wags her tail in assent. I almost imagine she understands what I'm saying.

Momma always said dogs understood us better than other men.

We head off into the sunrise, the two of us, even as the city starts to wake up to another sorry Monday morning.

Just a man and his dog ... and the promise of a better tomorrow.

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The Art of Chilling

Free beer, free tikkas, a poolside party, Foreign babes in bikinis, Indian babes in shorts that had me blushing and oh !! Did I mention FREEEEE BEEEEEEEER !!

Vs

An afternoon spent pushing a tube down some old lady's throat and then ventilating her for hours as people fixed her broken arm, covered in her blood till finally I get the pleasure of awakening her , suctioning her oral secretions and retrieving my tube before she decides to chew it like a doggie chew toy.

Ya, right. Big choice, there.

Officially, my great uncle was in town for an..uh, appointment for corrective tickly butt syndrome. Unofficially, I'd actually jumped at the invitation given by Anwin & Renie from Indiblogger to attend a ...uh, guys, Fosters Exclusive party, was it ? ( Look, I heard there was good food and babes near a pool. I'd have attended it even if it were being held by Hansel & Gretel's evil witch !!! ) The only parties I get to have where I work involve a machine-tea and a samosa ( too many potatoes, too little french fries, Pune. ) . So you can imagine this invite was like Kim Kardashian and Megan Fox served on a plate for me.

But seriously, the Foster's Art of Chilling party held at Club Solaris in Koregaon Park was awwwwwwesome !! I mean, it was all that you'd want to see in a high class party, plus 10 intellectuals as well... ok, bloggers. Indibloggers, no less. ( You ain't an Indian blogger till you're an Indiblogger, guys and gals. Just remember that. )

You had a lovely pool occupied by 3 sweet little adorable innocent DROP DEAD HOTTIE Aussie babes ( blondes, no less ). Dressed in little Foster bikinis, they spent the full day in the pool paddling and throwing a ball around... they did surface onto land though to have a bite and more importantly, distribute Fosters Beers to non-teetotalers. Funnily enough, towards the end of the party, they had to play in their own corner since the guys were busy playing in the fun side of the pool ( you know, the one with the BASKETBALL HOOP !!! ) and ignoring them. Sigh. Men !! Give them a ball and they'd walk right past a belly dancer convention.

And was there a shortage of Indian babes ? Ya, right.. the hell, there was. Honestly, I'm amazed sometimes with how beautiful Indian women can be. I mean, sure, you can talk about Rani Mukherjee's smile and Kajal's strangely adorable neurotic behaviour, but what about those smoking hot HOT INDIAN GALS who know they're hot and aren't scared to show it ? Well, they were there too. I consoled myself saying they were probably too high maintenance for me anyway... that Louis Vuitton hand bag alone costs more than my entire wardrobe. Sour grapes, your head !!!

The DJ was really into it as well, playing right through the day, belting out one dance number after another. And man !! I'm glad he didn't go trance on us, choosing instead some nice reggae and Akon numbers. Towards the end of the party, everyone joined in and danced as he ripped up one tubthumping number after the other.. even this adorably cute old couple who made a great contrast dancing beside red hot blonde girl. Ironically, this was one party I didn't dance at, choosing instead to take up a chair or stand by the food counter and eat 'em as they made 'em. Man, I am getting old.

Catching up with Pune's fellow bloggers was another treat that was well worth it. I got to meet and enjoy the lovely company of the hilarious and outgoing Prateek and the equally funloving and wonderfully talented Sahil.. ( Hmmm.. I have no idea how red hot blonde girl got in the same picture as them. It's a mystery. )

Both are great guys and we shared a lot of laughs and fun moments NOT staring at the beautiful women and definitely NOT determining who gets which gal.

It worked out exactly that way, guys.. we DIDN'T get any of the girls. Neither red hot blonde girl, nor green frock-long hair gal, not orange butt cutie ... not even a beer from the Foster girls who were distributing free beers!! Guess they just couldn't choose amongst us 3 hunks and gave up, right guys ? ( I still have some hair on my head, so don't snigger... I'm still hunky !!! CHUNKY HUNKY ! )

Of course, for me and my man-date, RR ( you've met him earlier ), there was exactly what we wanted.. a free food and drinks court. Fosters Unlimited beer cans, free chicken malais, chicken tikkas, fish tikkas, prawn frys, lamb frys, hara bhara kabab ( Ugh !! Sorry. I'm a pure non-veg. )

In short, all the good stuff in life at no cost.

And sure, those nice photographers were all over the hot babes with their shapely figures and chilled beer cans, but let me tell you, if they'd seen the dynamic drunk duo at work that day going down on those beer cans, they'd have offered us a straight MD post in Fosters Indian Main Branch.. ah !! Alas. Beauty before talent.

Overall, it was a great experience. The kind that for me is , quite literally, a once in a lifetime experience. To be able to sit in cushioned chairs, a beer in your hand in front of the pool, watching H-O-T gals dance to great music... That is the good life. This was, indeed, the art of chilling. Thanks, Anwin & Renie.. you made my day/week/month.

P.S. For more pics, please visit Prateek's post. And if you see me holding a beer can.. I swear, it only contained lime juice !!!

Hic !!! But sheriiously, guysh... guysh !! Does that beer can make me look thin ?

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Goodbye Pal

I wish I could have been home today.

I wanted to say goodbye to someone I loved, before he left.

There is a superstition from my past that came back to haunt me today as I finished my last case of the day. The belief goes that if someone tries to harm you, the pets in your house suffers first. I don't believe in it much, but I remember it from the past because I always wondered whether I would be responsible for the suffering of an innocent creature just because someone wished ill of me.

Imagine how it felt then when I returned home 3 months back, unable to walk because of a mystery ailment to the leg and found that Leo, Ruby's 8 year old child, had suffered an equally mysterious deep wound on his back left leg, akin to my own left leg, which wouldn't heal. Both of us lay bedridden for 2 months, a few feet away. When I finally got walking and visited him, he still stood up and found it in him to do what he did best - hold my paw with his, grip it... and just stand there. A dog seeking his master's approval.

I eventually got operated on, diagnosed, treated and joined back to work. Leo, inspite of the best care available,did not heal. He got worse with every day. But he still gamely ran on 3 legs when let out. He still let his bossy son, Bruno get first dibs on whatever events they went on - be it eating, drinking, bathing or just leaving the cage first. He was a good dad.

As adviced by the vet, Leo was put to sleep today. My mom fed him his favourite chicken and rice in the morning. She didn't want him to leave with an empty stomach. She cried in the prayer room as he left. Bruno, his self centred kid, hasn't stopped crying yet... I could hear him over the phone as my mom told me the news hours later.Me ? I've got to look after humans. I'm not allowed to show that the death of a dog can break my spirit. I must carry on with my day. Lives depend on it.

In these years while I've been busy pursuing my career, I've always been haunted by how I've had to give up the love and affection I would have wanted to bestow on those who mean a lot to me. My parents, brother, friends... and my pets. All have suffered my indifference as I have had to choose a textbook or two over them when they needed me. How there was never enough time for a gesture that said "I love you" when someone needed it the most. In this race to be the best in the field, I look back now and see all the people I've hurt like this. They're all familiar faces. They're all the faces of people who loved me.

It keeps stabbing at me even as I write this that, in the end, I could never find enough time for this lovable dog who lived in my house for 8 years... who just wanted to hold my hand all day long.

I wish I could have seen you just one more time before I left... just to tell you how much I loved you.

I'm sorry pal. I really am. You deserved better than me.

Rest in Peace.

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Best of Godyears Fiction

Yes. This really is nothing more than a glorified self-egoistic post. The truth is I'd been chatting with of the many readers ( one reader + one reader = many readers, right ? )  of my blog and she mentioned a very interesting fact - that most of my long stories ( which she enjoyed the most, apparently ) don't appear in the "Most Popular Blogposts" lists because they were all in my other blog BrokenRoads.

Well, I made a list of some of the better fictional stories that have found their way to these blogs over the years...  They make for pretty fun reading, even if I say so myself.

Click here to go to the list and choose your fictional dessert. They're arranged based on genre with a short foreword on what to expect in each tale. Enjoy... and don't forget to write your opinions.

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