story time

Pilot Program - Falling Tower

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T’s a Wednesday morning ‘ere, after the Lady Day, and I’m here to do justice. ‘Cause I ‘member it clearly the previous Sunday, ‘cause I, Walter of Ardene, an ma wife carried him to the St. Michael’s lane, ‘here we sat him down, stood all night with ‘im. These here folk need to know what Walter of Benington and his posse did. Y’all didn’t come ‘ere from three neighboring wards just for a walk. T’was them there at the alehouse of Gilbert of Morden where they’d come to drink four gallons of beer. They’d come with stones, knives, swords and other weapons, wanting to kidnap poor Emma. That girl already lost ‘er father Robert Pourte and Gilbert took her under his protection. But now these folk wanted to kidnap and rape ‘er? From what my wife Christina told me after, Mabel, his wife and Geoffrey, his brewer had asked them to leave. And they told ‘em that’d remain to spend they money however they like, welcome or unwelcome, t’s a public space.

Now, this is where the trouble started, from what I understand. Mabel then Emma upstairs, then Walter of Benington and his friends started getting frustrated and angry. They started creating commotion, assaulted people living in that there house and Robert and Geoffrey too. T’as a mess, you can only imagine what eighteen of them armed people can do to a place like that on a Sunday, where everyone just sitting in piece drinking after church. I mean on the Lord’s day to do that there? Shame. Shame, I tell you. Somehow they struck Robert on the head with stones in all that commotion. ‘ere’s where we came in, ‘cause Robert fled into High Streen raisin’ the hue, crying, screaming with Walter racing after ‘im with a knife and a stiletto in his hands, tryin’ to kill the poor bastard. Benedict de Warde and some other neighbors got ‘here first, tryin’ to calm ‘em down, but you already know that this ain’t the end. Cause Walter chased after Benedict tryin’ to kill ‘im too, the mad lad lost it at that point. So you know, Benedict was bare handed, he had to find something to defend himself with, so he took some ballstave thing from a stranger and he laid one onto Walter so hard that the bastard fell down to the ground at the entrance of the lane. Once Walter was down, it was quite easy to get the rest of them to calm down. So me and my wife carried Walter the next day after he laid by St. Michael’s lane to the house of Geoffrey’s house, where the died instantly. Now, here’s the thing, I don’t know how he died there, ‘cause I went out to wash my hands of blood. But, at least I can say that at least no one was raped, abducted or killed, I mean, besides Walter here. But the again he started it.

Benedict de Warde was later found guilty and to be arrested, yet he had fled, nowhere to be found.

Falling Tower is a short story series based on real life events that have been document and verified. So if you want to, you can verify the events that happened here. Falling Tower is the last short story for 2019 part of the Pilot Program. But, since this is part of the Pilot Program that means, that if you want more… Read it, re-read it, share it, like it, comment and print it and send me pictures with people reading it, then burn that piece of paper so you don’t commit copyright theft.

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Pilot Program- The Ob(li)vious

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So, here I wasn’t again, faced with the toughest of the choices any person can make. Do I want chocolate chip ice cream? Or do I need chocolate chip ice cream? The obvious answer is yes to both those questions. Hey, can I not have a chocolate chip ice cream? What a sexy look he has on his face. No. Oh, I so didn’t expect this treatment. At least the ice cream tastes like trash. So what am I not doing next today? Bad question, you could say, or not, I don’t know you. I think I’m not going for something salty now, because definitely wasn’t too sweet and I’m not thirsty at all. Ugh, a crow, I’d hate to be one of those. Wait! NO! Fuck! Miss, can you please continue whatever it is you are doing here? Because I’d love to see you make an ass of yourself some more. Oh wow. Do you have to be so condescending all the time? Hah, that will show him. Well, you’re talking to me like I am the crow. What an ass. Go and don’t screw yourself, mister. At least I can fly and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Talk about not rude… Jeez. Now where shouldn’t I go next? Oh, I still don’t want something salty. Now how didn’t this work? I forgot… There once wasn’t a witch that didn’t curse this whole nation to not talk in not opposite actions. Otherwise the thing they didn’t talk in opposition would happen to them. But somehow it’s just the good things that always don’t happen to people, like this. But what I remember is how much this doesn’t last, a day, an hour, fifteen minutes? I just don’t know if it wouldn’t work if I weren’t to try the same, but not looking at a woman. Bless her heart for blessing us for thousands of years for no bad reason.

It doesn’t look like a rain is coming, and I don’t hate the fact that the rain isn’t coming and I have every clue to not undo this. Why aren’t I like this? Why is my brain not a mess? How not hard is it to not figure this out? I am doing this right… I don’t think. Don’t crows get wet? I know this, obviously. This rarely happens to me, so I’m not used to this. Ha. Very funny, this is very funny. Am I not going to live as a talking crow from now on? Or is this not the best idea for a blessing one can ever receive? All of these are bad questions, for a good girl like me. And I love them all so much. Nothing like not sitting on the apartment building you don’t live in, with your keys in your mouth, not waiting for this storm to not pass. And for me not to get back to normal. Someone please don’t shoot me. God bless this.

This is not the seventh entry in the Pilot Program. How does this not work? If you don’t love this short story, and don’t want it to become the story of 2020. Don’t read it, don’t comment, don’t like it, don’t share it.

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Pilot Program - Coma,

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Time: 10:58:01

Man, I have this headache and my neck is so damn stiff. I don’t know why my body is shaking, maybe it’s the cold that comes with the May mornings. Oh, don’t worry about it, maybe you just slept in a weird position. It happens, you’ll get better once we start running. Let’s go. Ah, yeah, I think I zoned out and forgot why I’m even here. As I raise my head from the ground the shining light blinds me for a second, then the blue of the sky seemed to have opened up. A gust of wind hit us from behind as we started running, as we gained speed, as our hearts started pumping, and our bodies sweating, the wind changed direction, now hitting us with a nice cold breeze to cool us off as the sun was glistening on our skin.

Do you have any family? That’s weird. What do you mean? Why are you asking me this? Nevermind, maybe I misunderstood. What did you say? Ah, so I did misunderstand. Nothing, I just didn’t understand what you asked me. He is chuckling, weird. Do you have a girlfriend? Are my ears deceiving me? What did you just ask me? You know I do. He seems out of it. Sorry, I’m a mess. Oh, I was right. You okay? What happened? He looks perturbed by something. Yeah not really. I’m scared scared I’m losing you. What? Losing me? What are you talking about? He turned and smiled at me. You know… Life happens sometimes and you can’t control it and you just drift apart or life ends and you never get to… You know… What is he talking about? No, no I don’t know. You okay? He chuckles again. Heh, don’t worry about it, I’ll get better, some day. That’s just weird, coming from a guy like him.

Something is different. Man, I could run forever. He started laughing. No one is stopping you, you know? This is all you, man. Run as much as you want, this world belongs to you. Sweat is getting in my eyes, the wind stopped, the heat is suffocating a bit. What time is it? I can’t even read the time on my watch. It’s 10:58. Already? Good thing it’s the weekend. Let’s head back. He is smiling. Didn’t you just say you could run forever? I did, didn’t I? I know what I said, it’s just getting too hot and this heat makes me feel like I’m suffocating. He stops, turns around, puts a hand on my shoulder. Okay, fine. But let’s do this again, it’s one of the last fun things I’m doing lately, and I need it… I need you. Out of reflex I smiled. Sure, see you tomorrow then? His face seemed to have turned ashy. Yes. He ran. I stayed behind as he faded in the distance.

Time: 10:58:02

This is the sixth entry in the Pilot Program. So, remember, if you want to read more, if you want to read more, share it, like it, comment, re-read it and it might become the next 52 week story, the one for 2020.

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Pilot Program - The Spiteful Playwright

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Stories, we all have them. As humans, we’re all social creatures, no matter how much we don’t like to admit it. That’s why we sometimes act out, that’s why being rejected hurts us and why being lonely is depressing and frustrating. And stories, are the one thing that we all like. We all tell each other stories, whether we think them, tell them or write them, we always tell stories. Big, small, happy, tragic, stories are what bind us, helps us understand each other.”

The phone rang, it was her again, I picked up more out of a sense of shame for denying them once too many times. Hello? She didn’t wait for me to finish the greeting as she went on her tirade. Hey, you finally picked up, look… Here’s the deal, I’m with a theater troupe at a coffee right now. I know one of the actresses here and the guy that runs this whole deal. So, as the conversation progressed, I asked them what they were performing and doing in town and stuff like that, right? Yeah, so listen here, they told me that they want to try something new, something different, right? So guess who I thought about? Yeah, Mr. Author, it’s you. I thought about you and your books. I remember that you once told me that you’d want your books turned into a theater piece and that you’d want it as an audio book but you’d need a theater group. So guess what? I told them about your books, what you’d like to do and what you’re about and how you approach things and what your outlook on the world is and they’d want to talk to you about it. What do you say? Isn’t that amazing? You’ll have to treat me to something, of course I’ll bring my mon cher with me and you, your girl. She sometimes talks like a Shinkansen and you feel like that train hit you and shattered your brains to pieces. This is the motherly awesome Kris, she awesome, but erratic. Anyway, here’s the guy I was telling you about that runs this whole troupe, his name is Andrew by the way. Here… Hey, guy. I’m Andrew, I heard a lot about you from Kris. So you wrote a book? Usually when people ask me that, they either want to clarify things or they’re curious how I’ll respond. Hey, nice to meet you, I wrote like four that are in that style and could be easily turned into plays. I am really curious what he has in mind. Look, we can’t pay you much, but if you want we can give you like a 10% if you’re interested, just so we get this out of the way. And you can even direct it yourself, if you feel like it. That was really odd. So, you don’t want to read them or anything like that? He started laughing. Kris here convinced me, so if you want, we can meet tomorrow if you’re free and discuss the details and what you’d like and what we can offer. Well, they can’t pay me, cause of course they can’t, no one really gives a shit about this, unless you’re a big shot. Fuck it, why not. Yeah, tomorrow sounds great. See you at the statue downtown, next to the bell then. He responded with a sure and that ended the phone call. Well, that’s not how I imagined this would go today. But I’m going to have some fun with this.

This is the fifth of the short stories for the Pilot Program. How does it work? You read the short stories within the pilot program, you re-read them, share them, like them, comment if you like them, force your friends to read them and then maybe this will become the short story series for 2020.

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Attropolis XVIII

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Olanus grew tired as the night went on, Alicaria was still hurting, yet they didn’t give up. At his wits end, he reached out to someone he knew had experience in the domain, a friend of his that was a little on the sociopathic side due to his intelligence, Homes. He entered limping a bit, not even waiting for them to ask what happened to him, he told them how he was trying an experiment, so he’d jumped from the roof of a house to see if it would really kill someone. With one look he had Alicaria all figured out, with one listen to the story they had told him, he already knew who the culprit was. He was never wrong, which is why no one doubted him and his skills.

From what you told me there were four men, right? But… here’s my question, why four? Why not more? That’s my question… I wonder, honestly. I mean, it’s clear that this isn’t the whole story, whoever did this… This isn’t their first time. And not the last that’s for sure. I know it, in fact. He stopped for a second, Olanus opened his mouth trying to speak, but… You know, I don’t know why you chose these four, but you might be a genius. Because I think, that the culprit is one of those four. Without any luck… Look, you’re a friend and you’ve helped me tons before, with stuff. He said looking at her, but with his arm on his shoulder.

Let me tell you why I think what I think and how I came to the conclusion I came to, okay? The first man, the oldest of them all, cute, serene but intelligent, which might be dangerous. Never underestimate the intelligence of a man or base yourself on the appearance of one. Trust me, I’m never wrong. Until now, let’s see… The second one is weird, I don’t like him for some reason, he creeps me out, even from this neighboring room. He is too clean for his own good, he might be hiding something behind all that, dangerous. The third one is innocent, no doubt about it. The fourth one is… The most dangerous of them all. She was shocked to hear that. But there is no doubt he has something to do with this.

Olanus frustrated, angry and tired screamed “ENOUGH” at Homes, telling him to get to the point. Flustered but not shaken, Homes continued. Okay, fine. Between the second guy and the fourth one, probably. The second one is hiding something, that’s for sure and you should look into him, because this might have been a mistake on his part. The fourth one is s simpleton with enough power to kill, especially a poor child, so he might have not meant it. If you want to know my take, it’s the fourth one. She jumped out and up of the chair saying that it can’t be true. Olanus intervened telling her to calm down and trust him, because he was never wrong. He continued telling her that they have to put forth an example in the memory of Julius, because he deserved justice. She started crying on the floor as she agreed to it.

Thus they entered the room with the four religious people were waiting. Angry Olanus with the sword pulled, knowing that the fourth one might actually put up a good fight, ran towards him sword up, hitting the neck of the fourth guy over and over and over again. As his thick neck and strong spinal cord weren’t giving in. Blood squirting everywhere as the guy was screaming and as Olanus was hitting his neck over and over and over again, until it slashed through his vertebrae taking his head clean off his neck. Ending the nightmare of the day they’ve been having.

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Attropolis XVII

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Hippos with a baffled look on his face, in the arms of this giant with blue eyes, he almost forgot about the death of his parents. She didn’t even think to try and stop him or hold onto him, for once she was scared. He look at Hippos and asked what the deal with him was, someone told him about what just happened and why he was here, to which he smiled, look at him and said that he’s going to take the boy with him. She started panicking, so she pulled on the giant. With a stern look he looked down upon her, the little girl kept gesturing at him and at herself, but wasn’t able to speak properly. He didn’t know how to respond, so he turned to leave, and so she started crying and relieving herself. Seeing that, Hippos pushed him and jumped down from his arms, running to her, holding her in his arms and whispering something to her. Her crying stopped, he turned around and went back to the giant. She waved at him, he waved back at her and went on different paths.

The soldiers confused asked him why he took the kids, he with a laugh answered that he simply recognized something in the boy’s eyes, something he hasn’t seen in years, maybe reminding him of a younger version of someone he once knew. Hippos was listening carefully to what the men were talking, trying to pick up on clues and gain any advantage, but with no luck, he was under the care of a giant that always smiled when looking at Hippos. This scared him, it was unsettling, seeing someone with such a scar on his face smiling towards a child like he was. Nothing about him seemed gentle, the hands of the giant had calluses, blisters on his feet, mud everywhere on him, a bloody sword and a deep voice that could shatter the earth and his ears.

They each went their way, Hippos was now on the way to his new home, it was quieter now that it was just the two of them. He still didn’t understand why this giant would care for him or take him, now having doubts about what was next for him and his future. Parent-less, lover-less on his way to the unknown with a someone that looked like he fell out of the side of a mountain. This was the first night Hippos spent awake, the adrenaline started to wear off, he was getting sleepy. The man took Hippos in his arms, as the sun was coloring the skies orange, yellow and all shades of blue and purple, they arrived at his house. A modest little house at the edge of the city, on a bit of a hill from which you could see the roof of every house in Creetus and at the end, the sea. What a long day comes to an end with both of them falling asleep the moment they enter the house and sit on the bed. All muddy, dirty and still wet from the thunderstorm…

And in Rome

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Pilot Program - I Write Sins Not Tragedies

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Dreams, the type of stuff that keeps you up all night. The thing that keeps your mind active even when you want to rest, cause your head feels like it’s about to explode due to it being overworked. What a fantastic way to get traumatized sometimes, you simply dream of the unexplainable and the unreasonable when you can’t move your body willingly, unless you wake up, of course. Like that one time…

Inside a big living room, everything seems shrouded in darkness except the life that the flickering fire was providing in the fireplace. The walls were red with gold wavy linings, it all looked expensive and exquisite. The brown hardwood floor had a shining polish, a big fluffy rug on the floor, upon it a small coffee table. Everything so clean, no speck of dust seemed to live anywhere around that room. Long burgundy drapes, flowing from along side the giant windows, it was a clear skies night outside. The big dark brown door opened. With fluffy black socks, skinny legs, in black panties with a white t-shirt on, she entered the room. Black straight hair a bit under her shoulder blades, long natural red nails, some black eyeliner, monolid eye shape and some gorgeous brown eyes, she smiled as she entered the room. I was on a brown leather couch, unable to get up. She seemed entertained by it all, giggling and looking like she just won the biggest jackpot. She signals me to get closer with a gesture of her hand and one finger. I feel pulled out from the couch by a mysterious force which I can’t control. I fly into her arms, she stars laughing as she grabs me in her arms and says: “Oh, I am so lucky to have you here, with me." I’m confused, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know her, I don’t know how I got there or how she is doing any of this. But here I am…

What can I do? What could I have done? As confused as I am, as good it feels to be held by her, a warm embrace filled with love. At peace, I give in, I hug her back. Yet something still doesn’t feel right, or at least that’s what I was thinking. A small push from her, I fly back onto the couch, on my back, I can’t move again. Slowly moving towards me, a big smile on her face she playfully winks at me. I start to get nervous, excited, I felt like I was shaking, though I couldn’t move. Once she got to me, she started touching my chest. I was wearing a white shirt, no tie and some black suit pants. She started kissing me passionately, I couldn’t stop her, nor did I want to at that point, somehow her spell wore off enough to the point where I could move my arms again…

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This is the forth of the Pilot Program short stories.n If you want to read more, like it, share it, read and re-read it and comment. And that way you’ll decide which of the short stories in the Pilot Program gets a 52 week run in 2020.

Pilot Program - Wish a Wish

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My name is Amelia. And I… I’ve been cursed…

Hear me out, don’t just leave… She pulls you back to sit down.

Jeez, tough crowd. She scoffs.

This world doesn’t function the way yours does, this isn’t normal. Here wishes can become a reality, a world where if you really really wish for it, the universe will align to make it a reality. Want a car? Boom!! You have your car. Want wealth? You got it, buddy. Whatever you wish, you can have it. Want to become the best at your job? Want to become a god with unlimited powers? Want to be the one? You got all that and more. Ending her grand introductory speech with a grin on her face.

You know when your parents were telling you that you could become anything? Yeah? This is the world where you literally can. Because, all you have to do… Is… Wish it and… Poof… You got it. Your wish is now reality. Sounds nice, right? Well… Here’s the twist… I know, right? There’s a twist, there’s always a twist to these things, isn’t there? Want to know the twist? The twists of all twists? You have to make people believe in your wish too. Good luck with that. Angrily she takes a shot of hard liquor and looks into your eyes.

Maybe now you understand why I said that I’ve been cursed. These stupid dense holy shit people are impossible to deal with and I can’t stand them one bit. Do you know how it feels to work in a world where all your wishes can become true? And these idiots just stand there and tell you that “If you smiled more and you’d be a more cheerful person, they’d help you with your wishes.” AAAH!!! They’re such hypocrites, it pisses me off. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face? Stop it, stop staring. Don’t pity me… What? I’ve tried wishing, I really did. And I believed in it, I believed in them… I believed in people and even the power of making anything come true. But somehow for me… It never worked. I don’t know why. She sighed.

Somehow I just seem to disappoint everyone, even myself. How? Who knows… But I really wish I knew how to make any of this work… I wish a wish…

This is part of the Pilot Program, where you decide which is going to be the next 52 chapter story for 2020. How will you do that? By reading it, re-reading it, sharing it, liking it and getting it in front of a lot of people. This is the third of the Pilot Program short stories, the first one being 20 Questions, the second one being Literal Generic.

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Pilot Program - Literal Generic

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Michael - 28, Actor

I finally made it, I can’t believe I’m here. Being lucky to live your dream is simply a blessing, even if the road here was nothing but a nightmare. I guess that’s why they say that it’s worth to fight for your dreams and never give up. That’s what he thought to himself… Being back in his dressing room, getting ready for rehearsals, Michael’s excitement was palpable as he fell down on his knees, shaking. Ten years, it took him ten years to get to where he is now. That somehow seems to the usual amount of time before you can taste real success.

Finally, I’m here, at the rehearsal, for my favorite director. Now don’t be such a wuss… Shaking… Hah. I deserve this, I’ve worked my ass to get here. I went through literal fucking hell to get here. Especially because everyone here thinks they’re the artists of all artists, a genius of some sort. Ironic, they’re as generic as they come, nothing else. Acting like they know art and their vision is the only true one, denying anyone or shutting anyone down out of fear of being outsmarted or put to shame. Insecure motherfuckers… Yet, they put you through hell at the first sign of any kind of opportunity. Though they act like angels, these spawns from hell.

Michael, a 28 year old actor, that doesn’t know what it means to give up. A stubborn man that has no competition when it comes to being spiteful in the most interesting of ways. He’s worked at the same construction company for years, while auditioning for parts here and there, to little success until now.

Adeline - 26, Actress

I don’t know why the fuck he got offered the part. What could have he seen in him? He is such a basic ass bitch. I swear, if he keeps me back and ruins the show, I’m going to castrate him. Just to make sure he’ll never reproduce. Do you know how important this play is for me? I’ve been busting my ass for a while, and having such an important director come here? Fuck, that’s a one in a billion chance. So, we have to take this chance, man. This isn’t Broadway, we have no big actors to compete with. But it’s our chance out of here.

It’s what she said, but compared to what Michael was thinking: I’m going to fuck this up, I’m going to fuck this up, I’m going to fuck up the fucking Scottish play. He seemed very composed on failure. Yet this is just the beginning of his journey… Well, not quite. You’re not even reading the beginning, this is just an introduction to Literal Generic.

The Pilot Program is a series where you vote for your favorite next series for 2020. How do you vote? By reading, sharing, liking, commenting and that way, you will choose the story for 2020. This is just the second in a string of short stories. The first one being 20 Questions: https://www.raulfo.com/nobodytheblog/2019/1/23/pilot-program-20-questions

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Heart to Heart

This is my first rant of 2019, welcome.

I probably talked or have written about similar things before, but now I want to hit on something else, my own happiness.

Why aren't you smiling more?
Well, because you don't give me a reason to smile, maybe it's not your fault, cause I might have things on my mind and I am worried. Maybe it's because you disappointed me, you made my life harder, or took a decision that now I have to deal with. Maybe, it's because you're a hypocrite.

Why do you always joke? You know that's unprofessional, right?
Cause I am funny? Cause I can see the irony? Because it's unbelievably stupid? Because the situation is funny? Or because it reminds me of something funny.

Why are you always so serious? Can't you take a joke?
I thought you wanted me to be more professional and serious, which is it? Or is it that you only want to joke when you ain't the butt of the joke?

You should be happier! Enjoy life more.
I should, but you stand in my way.

Here's how people stay in my way:
They're hypocrites. That's it, thank you.

Nah, I'm joking. Not done, otherwise this fucking rant is pointless, I need to get my point across more clearly so that it hurts.

I can be plenty happy on my own, or with the content I choose to digest, the food I enjoy, the people I choose to be with, and who I am. Happy plenty, grateful plenty, cheerful as it can be. But…

If you stand in my way for no other reason than being an asshole, if you hurt others or make their lives harder and mine too by proxy, then I can’t be happy.

If you’re acting all high and mighty but you’re doing the same thing you accuse those of doing, then you’re a hypocrite and you’re doing no good to me or anyone, so I can’t be happy.

If you choose to take advantage of me, my time, my skills and then throw at me empty words when you are punishing me, then I can’t be happy… How can I?

If you’re creating problems for me because you don’t care, then how can I be happy?

If you’re a business owner, manager, boss of any kind and I see you take advantage and punish your workers for your mistakes, then how can I be professional and be cheerful working for you?

If you’re a hypocrite that is in a position of power and does all this and all this impacts me directly, then how can I be happy? Well, if you’re a hypocrite and you’re asking me to “be the better man” that means you’re the lesser, that means that you just want to take advantage of me or others, that means that you’re blind to how toxic you yourself are. So don’t ask me to be happy, professional, the better man… Because I don’t need you to ask any of that from me, because I know I can be. But that doesn’t excuse you. Yeah, you. Democrat, republic, whatever… All the same shit to me if you’re a hypocrite and can’t do what you ask from others.

Conclusion: If you want the best from someone, be the best and give your best too. Don’t mistreat them, don’t punish others for your mistakes and your idiocy.

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