"Colombia? As in drug cartels?!?"My voice rose an octave and a half as my boss revealed himself to be an alien from the planet Moron."Who goes to Colombia?  Do you realize that country's on the State Department's 'don't go there' list?"  I continued in the same vein for a few minutes before allowing him to get a word in edgewise. He reminded me that all the major oil companies had major investments south of the border, th...

     The bar where Fred sat was crowded and dingy, but it had a television.  On the screen, the Cowboys kicker shanked what would have been the winning field goal; a mixture of groans and cheers echoed in the crowded bar.  The brunette sitting on Fred's left cursed and slammed her beer down, splashing his left cuff.     "Oh hell, I'm sorry!" she spluttered, trying to dab at his sleeve with a napkin.  "Look, I'll pay for t...

     Her Basement, by Rajah Dodger Copyright (c) 2001.  All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.     The animal in the basement was whimpering again.     My next-door neighbor kept some sort of animal, I thought perhaps a dog, in her basement.  For the last month I would be...

Sticky Afternoonby Rajah Dodger (c) 1994, 2009     It was a sticky afternoon, and Karl was tired of waiting for the bus, tired of looking for work, just plain tired.  He tapped his fingers impatiently against his briefcase as he slouched against the building in the July heat.  He grumbled to himself from time to time about the short-sightedness of personnel managers who seemed to want fresh young (read: cheap) applicants...