A POP STAR's SAGA

Her desire for another hit was so hot that she could feel the heat from 

last summers sunburn itching across her skin and she scratched at her 

arm unconsciously.  She knocked on the door in front of her and the loudness of each knock startled her.  Worried that she might have drawn attention to herself the Pop Star looked up and down the hallway of the run down apartment building and huddled sideways against the door.  “Please answer,” she prayed towards the door, but the answering stillness made her prayer sound in vain.  She glanced again at the gold, diamond encrusted watch on her wrist, and fought the compulsion to knock again.  She knew better than to knock on his door this late at night in the first place, but, it was as if she was a prisoner inside herself, and her jailer was giving her no choice.  Once before she had come here this late at night, and although she had received what she had come for, it had come with a price that had left her nauseated for days.  

She had sworn to herself that it would never happen again.  

She had sworn to herself that she would never be like other people she 

knew who were to weak to keep their integrity and control their desires. 

She made up her mind to leave, and turned to go, but, decided to knock 

just once more for some reason that she could not explain to herself.  

She shivered slightly as she knocked, partly from the cold that seemed 

to permanently reside in the low rent district of “Gotham,” and partly from 

the anticipation of getting another hit.  “God, where is he!” she thought to 

herself.  She believed he was there, because, she had seen his car in 

the poorly lit parking lot.  

She was about to go, or, knock again, she wasn't sure which, when the 

door cracked open an inch and a big angry eye looked down at her.  A 

sleepy deep voice grumbled; “Gurl, ha you lost yo dam mine?

You know whad time id-dis? Do I hat-ta kick yo dam ass ta make you gid 

“not” ta come roun hea-ah at dis time a nighed?”   The Pop Star hung her 

head, and her feet shuffled of their on accord.  Her hand went up to 

brush back her falling waves, and she half whispered half pleaded to 

him.  “I'm sorry Terry, I just need a little bit, and I don;t know where else 

to go to get it.  Please Terry, I'll do anything.”  As she said this last part 

she was horrified by the realization that at that moment she really would 

do anything for another hit, and she hated herself.  Perhaps she would

have run, but, in the time it took her to realize the truth of her, the door 

opened further revealing a massive head and shoulders followed by a 

power train 6'4” frame.  Terry looked down at the young lady who stood 

so desperately at his doorway.  He normally didn't do business at this 

time of night because night business attracted cop business, and he 

wasn't ever planning on going back to jail again.  “Still,” he thought to 

himself, “if ever there was ever a thing to exploit, then, I have never 

passed it up, and she is very exploitable.”  It had occurred to Terry that 

the Pop Star's idea of a “little” bit generally meant at least two hundred 

dollars to him, and at this time of night it would damn sure come with 

fringe benefits.  Studying the depth of her desperation he took in the 

fact that the high fashioned clothes  she wore looked starkly out of place 

in the hallway of  the drabby south side apartment building.  Her 

expensive stiletto heeled boots rose up to just below the knees of her 

lean muscular legs, which, flashed bare flesh all the way up to the very 

short hemline of a Japanese silk mini.  Terry drunk in the sexy sight and 

let his eyes travel up her 5'2” frame.  The mini, already super short 

below, hung low on her waist exposing the slinky curves that fell down 

both sides of the slim woman's well toned abdomen and continued 

down inside the top of her short skirt.  Those curves invited Terry's eyes 

to travel along them, until, they ran into the silky camouflage of the mini, 

behind which, all else was hidden.  

The tiny gold looped ring that hung suspended from her navel caught 

Terry's eye, and teased him with possibilities.  His eyes rose up to the 

sheer gold blouse that stretched tight across her bra-less chest.  Her 

breast, as if two mighty muscles holding ajar an iron door, protruded 

outward against the kelly green silk jacket she wore. The jacket was 

pushed open just enough for Terry to see the thickening erections of her 

Nipples, swollen with the promises of new passions of the night.  Long 

and wavy were the sinuous strands of the finest blonde hair he had ever 

seen, and they surrounded a breathtakingly beautiful, and familiar face.   

No one would ever believe that the suggestively clad beauty at his door 

was a multi-platinum selling artist, and Terry wondered, not for the first 

time, how he had gotten so lucky.  

The Pop Star's pleading eyes starring back at him as his eyes finally 

rose that high brought Terry back to his senses. He smiled knowingly at 

her, and behind his smile she saw the cost that she must pay, if, she 

still wanted her passion.  Almost as if it were a distant dream, a part of 

her felt saddened that she was willing to let him do whatever he wanted 

to do to her just for another hit, but then she thought of the hit, and the 

sadness was drowned out, washed away, by her passion.  

When Terry opened the door all the way she hurriedly bumped past him 

in excited relief, anticipation, and dread.  The sound of her boot heels 

clicking against the tiles of his kitchen floor rang in her ears.  To her, 

each step seemed to click away more and more of her integrity and 

dignity, but, she could not stop stepping and she walked deeper and 

deeper into a new normal way of life for her.

Terry led her into the small living area, and over to his nice but well 

worn sofa, and then, disappeared into the back of the apartment to 

get what she had come for.  Waiting, tensely she perched upon the edge 

of the cushion.   Her mini crawled up her back exposing all of her, but, 

she did not notice.  Hearing him returning she eagerly dug into her 

Gucci bag for money and the glass shooter pipe that she had brought 

with her.  Before she had found the pipe he was back, and the thick lump 

of rock cocaine he rolled from his hand and onto the coffee table in 

front of her caused goose bumps to rise on her bare exposed thighs.  

Finally, her fingers felt the glass pipe inside of her purse, and she pulled 

it out with the money.  As she started to ask him how much he shushed 

her, and then, snapped off a piece almost as big as her thumb nail, and 

held it out to her.  With her hands slightly trembling from excitement she 

took the sweet chunk and placed it into the end of the well used, faintly 

browned, glass shooter pipe.  She needed a light and looked over at 

Terry noticing for the first time that all he was wearing were pale blue 

and white stripped pajama bottoms that did more outlining than hiding 

body parts. She remembered that Terry was huge all over and as he lit 

the end of her pipe she alternated looking at the melting rock cocaine 

and the thickening trunk outlined so well in the pajama bottoms before 

her.  The sweet and over powering taste of high quality cocaine filled 

her mouth, numbing it instantly, and she sucked it in letting it fill her 

lungs and caress through her body.  Everything was okay now.  She felt 

exactly in control.  Her legs parted of their on accord revealing a barely 

there g-string panty, and as passion rushed into her from the hit, the 

surface of panties darkened with moisture.  She leaned back into the 

sofa and let the smoke escape leisurely from her lungs.  And, Terry

slowly slipped his pajama bottoms down....

Gun Soup for the Soul

GUN SOUP FOR THE SOUL

Gun fever is approaching madness with gun enthusiasts fighting to buy any type of weapon the talk radio hosts scares them into buying before the White House strips away their right to possess them. This past December President Obama announced the formation of a task force to come up with proposals that will address gun violence in the wake of the tragic mass shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, which will be led by Vice President Joe Biden. You can check out the full details in + Tommy Christopher's column for mediaite.com.  Since then there have been a deluge of articles, news reports, and commentary suggesting how the nation as a whole can accomplish the seemingly impossible task of arriving at a consensus that is agreeable to all.

The funny thing is...everyone seems to be suffering from “Congressittis.”  That's where nobody seems to be listening to anybody else.  When I was in Culinary class and there was a disagreement on the prep team as to the order of item prep my Instructor would make us circle round a soup pot and stare into it until we came up with a concensus.  We got quicker and quicker at coming up with a consensus, so, on this gun issue, why not try looking at it all in a soup pot?  If you do you'll soon find that some ingredients (such as a ban on assault weapons) are not really necessary.  Why not?  Because much like a good soup the base stock dictates the overall flavor and is what makes the other ingredients work together.  Take as a base stock in this gun soup the common desire that we all share of no more mass murders.  Now a lot of  people like carrots in their soup while others don't.  But, the deliciousness of the overall soup will make a carrot hater keep ordering it, since, all they're going to do is eat around the carrots anyway.  The same rules can apply with smart gun ownership policies as well.  I suggest the following recipe to fix the gun violence problem we face as a nation and I hope you find it tasty.  The instructions and the reasons for each ingredient follow the recipe.
     
RECIPE FOR GUN SOUP (serve with a side of garnish)

Base Stock:
Public Interest
Homeland Security Department
NSA
State Police

Ingredients:
VA Psychiatrists
Digital Mental Health Exam
Federal Gun Owner ID
Volunteer Veterans

INSTRUCTIONS
The inclusion of the Public Interest bares no explanation.  The reasoning behind the others is that in order to make our soup tasty to all we must make it agreeable to the masses.  To do that our soup must not only be tasty, but, affordable as well.  Affordability falls under cost and cost in this recipe is the garnish, which, is discussed at the end.  Hence we begin with Homeland Security administrating the  program through the NSA on a national level.  The NSA would then localize it by bringing in the State Police who would have the authority to do on-site inspections, as needed, for the ingredients that come next.
Because of the VA Psychiatrist’s experience with people who refuse to shoot other people; people who are not afraid to do their duty on the battle field; and, people who are just too gung-ho trigger happy, they are needed to compile the most comprehensive (and yet abbreviated!) digital mental health exam ever built.  This exam would be used to gauge the person to person violence potential of any applicant for gun ownership, determine the gun safety education level and personal responsibility level of an applicant,  .  The VA Psychiatrist is also needed because no civilian Psychiatrist could afford the insurance that would be required to guard against claims if  someone slips by the test, gets a gun, and goes on a shooting spree.  Now, here's the “carrot” in the soup.  Once an applicant is approved they would need to go to the local DPS office and purchase a Federal Gun Owner (G.O.) ID.  This G.O. ID would have to be renewed every four years and to do so the “GOID” holder would have to pass a continuing education “GOID” renewal exam.  This part is as crucial to implement as salt is to soup.  Take for instance a gun owner who upon achieving a “GOID” and thus, a gun, was at the time living in a gun safe environment.  Meaning there were no mentally challenged in residence.  However, as things sometimes happen, now the “GOID” holder has a mentally challenged person living with them.  Ordinarily, no one would be notified.  However, with a “GOID” would come the responsibility of notifying the State Police of the possible danger that now exists within the situation.  This may seem like a burden, and okay, so it is, but, responsibility breeds burden as yeast raises rolls and to be a gun owner is to be responsible.  Further, I don't know about you, but, if my neighbor invites me to dinner I'd kinda like to know whats on the menu the same as I would like to know that my gun owning neighbor has a mentally challenged person residing with them.  Plus, this “GOID” is itself a mighty protector to the holder in that, first, by complying with it's requirements the holder would be indemnified against lawsuit in most cases.  A second way a “GOID” is a protector is that when a gun is sold person to person it would be incumbent upon the recipient to obtain a “GOID” thereby relieving the holder of any further responsibility other than reporting the sale.   Our final ingredient are the Volunteer Veterans.  Volunteer Veterans are the stabilizers in our soup and as such have a critical role to play.   These volunteers will use their expertise in that often unheralded self control, where, weapons, anger, and temptation meet in the darkest parts of the mind. The veterans would be comprised of retired Military, Police, and other protective Agencies personnel.  The role they play is to be at the end of a phone line established to “talk down” any caller who is feels like they need an outlet before an act of violence.  They would also be available for family, friends, or employers of anyone who seems to be acting out of character, as in, an alarming manner.  They would be the frontline, so to speak, and in them we could rely, for, forever have they demonstrated an unrelenting desire to protect and serve.

GARNISH
The garnish for our gun soup are the funds generated from the cost to the applicant of the exam and the G.O. ID.  While nobody enjoys paying more for something, where, before there were no extra fees, it remains the fact that to be a gun owner in this day and age comes with some form of sacrifice. Therefore let those who would bear arms bare them, but, let them also proudly bear the burdens that come attached, and in so doing, enjoy the soup.