Don't live by my words, don't die by them, chew them slowly digest them, and smile if they give nourishment to your soul.

-- Stanley Victor Paskavich

Action

Similar to Adventure, but the protagonist takes risks that lead to desperate situations.



Gimp, Gimp, blah, blah





This town is of no military significance what so ever-Another day in the life of Knife

Michael Van Lue sat in the passenger seat of a dingy brown 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis, with the windows rolled down. The temperature was in the 80s in rural southern Pennsylvania, but the air conditioner in the car had not functioned since the elder Bush administration. In the driver seat pushing the car upwards of 75 mph was Michael's best friend the bulky redheaded Bernie Rayford.

Skinned knees, skinned hearts- Another day in the life of "Knife"

     It was midnight as Michael Van Lue stared up at the run down apartment building, on the bad side of town.  Michael took a last drag off his cigarette before dropping it to the street and crushing it out with his toe.  "Man this is gonna suck."  He looked down at his recovered knife in his right hand, "Yeah."  Then he reached into his pocket with his left hand, and withdrew what appeared to be a yellow christmas light, that was glowing brightly, even though it wasn't plugged in, and instead of a light buld screw it had w

Going to the chapel-The death of Knife.

It had been many years since Michael Van Lue looked this sharp, so to speak. He was dressed in a tuxedo, flying down the highway on a borrowed crotch rocket. He could see the church that was his destination on the other side of the river, but the traffic had come to a dead stop on the only bridge across the river. "What the hell is the hold up....oh." A tanker truck was about to fall off the bridge into the river, taking with it a sedan, with the doors open, something was hanging by the seat belt out of the passenger door of the sedan. "Is that? Awww hell no!" It was a baby seat...

Going to the chapel, another day in the life of "Knife"

It had been many years since Michael Van Lue looked this sharp, so to speak. He was dressed in a tuxedo, flying down the highway on a borrowed crotch rocket. He could see the church that was his destination on the other side of the river, but the traffic had come to a dead stop on the only bridge across the river. "What the hell is the hold up....oh." A tanker truck was about to fall off the bridge into the river, taking with it a sedan, with the doors open, something was hanging by the seat belt out of the passenger door of the sedan. "Is that? Awww hell no!" It was a baby seat...
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