Reddit Collection (Fresh-Short #10) - DeYtH Banger (best way to read an ebook TXT) 📗
- Author: DeYtH Banger
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Choose a job you love, and you’ll never have to work a day in your life
As he read those words, the shame magically disappeared. He could do better, much better, in fact.
It wouldn’t last.
A month later, Ian was back again. He couldn’t find a job he loved and the rent was past due.
“God, why does this shit happen to me?” Ian questioned and then vomited again. The graffiti was crossed off once more and replaced with:
No need to worry. It will all be over soon
THE SUICIDE KING
Modern playing cards are filled with layers of meaning and symbology that can be traced back centuries. The four kings, for example, are based off of real rulers: the king of diamonds represents the wealthy Julius Caesar, the king of clubs is the brutal Alexander the Great, Spades represents the strong but kind David of Israel and Hearts represents the… emotionally disturbed, shall we say, Charles VII of France. It is this king that we will be dealing with today. It should also be noted that Charles was the only one of the four who was actually there to see the day that his face was printed on a playing card, which may rationalize why he acted apart from the others.
Charles’ visage was put on the king of hearts at the very beginning of his rule, but he never really got a chance to come into contact with playing cards until many years later when he became very ill with a fever and was informed that he would be bedridden for the rest of his life. It was during this period that Charles began learning card games to pass the time, such as an early version of black jack, “vingt-et-un” (twenty one).
Charles lay in his bed for two years, constantly fiddling with the cards and always getting weaker. As time continued to pass, there were reports that Charles had begun obsessing over the idea that the king being the thirteenth card in a suit was causing him bad luck. He talked about how he was starting to see the number pop up everywhere and that he was close to figuring out its secret. Of course, his ramblings were blamed on the fever, and by the end of the second year, he had been declared insane, and his son Louis XII took over the thrown.
One day, several months after the end of his reign, one of Charles’ physicians went to his chamber to find the frail old man standing in the middle of the room wielding a large sword. Before the doctor could react, the king said, “Ils m’ont montré la vérité de treize, et il n’est pas signifié pour les yeux mortels.” which roughly translates to, “They have shown me the truth of thirteen, and it is not meant for mortal eyes.” Without hesitation the king proceeded to ram the blade in through the left side of his head (between the ear and temple) until it came out the other side. He wavered a moment, before collapsing to the floor dead.
After the incident was announced and it was made public that the king had gone mad, the image of Charles on the king of hearts was altered to show himself offing himself. Although the picture is now shown significant-ly less graphically, the image of Charles thrusting the sword into his skull can still be found on modern day playing cards. Perhaps the strangest part of the whole story, however, is the day that Charles chose to kill himself: 7/6/1462. Whether or not it was intentional of the king, the facts that 6+7=13 and 1+4+6+2=13 can only be explained as coincidences.
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Credited to John
by manen_lyset
When I was a kid, the only thing I wanted to be when I grew up was a magician. As it turns out, being a magician takes patience, practice, discipline, timing, and, of course, showmanship. None of which I was ever good at. Forget being a master of illusions, I was a master of trying once, failing, and never trying again.
I only ever managed to learn one magic trick. A real show-stopper. The first time I did it was on my wife, and it went great! I was elated. Later on, I did it on a business partner. Then, a few friends found out about it, so I performed it to some and for others. Every time, it went off without a hitch.
This trick doesn’t require sleight of hand like most magic tricks do, so it’s not toochallenging for a first-timer, but it does require a bit of misdirection and some upper body strength. Not everyone can do it, is what I’m getting at. If you want to see it done right, you should come to a professional. And who better than me? I’ve had years of practice perfecting this magic trick. I’ve got it down to a science. I promise, you’ll be blown away. If you’re willing to pay a reasonable fee, I’ll gladly perform it in front of any audience of your choosing. Just give me a name and a place.
So, if you want me to show you how to make a body disappear, come on down to Hamid’s Oriental Rug Bazaar and ask for Mikey. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.
No refunds.
How to feel more humanby manen_lyset
It's normal to be a little down in the dumps after surgery. I spent months in recovery after my procedure, watching from afar as people walked around and enjoyed their lives. The world kept turning with or without me, and I started to feel more alone than I ever had in my entire life. I spent endless hours wasting away the day behind my monitor as staff administered IV treatments, checked up on me, changed my bandages, gave me sponge baths, and swapped my hospital gowns. Nothing but white walls as far as the eye could see. I felt weak. I felt less than human. It's no surprise I fell into depression.
As though sensing my angst, the nurse came in yesterday with a bag of clothes. She smiled and said, "Let's get you dressed. You'll see, it'll make you feel more human!"
And, you know what? She was right. It's hard to imagine, but something as simple as getting out of a hospital gown and into a pair of jeans can make a hugedifference for emotional well-being. Clothes don't make the man, but they do make me feel much more human. They raised my morale. I was a cake without icing -unappealing and incomplete-, and the clothes made me feel whole. They were the icing on the cake, as they say.
I feel much more human now that I look more like them. They'll never know I'm not until it's too late.
Everybody Who is DeadBY FRANK STANFORD
When a man knows another man
Is looking for him
He doesn’t hide.
He doesn’t wait
To spend another night
With his wife
Or put his children to sleep.
He puts on a clean shirt and a dark suit
And goes to the barber shop
To let another man shave him.
He shuts his eyes
Remembers himself as a boy
Lying naked on a rock by the water.
Then he asks for the special lotion.
The old men line up by the chair
And the barber pours a little
In each of their hands.
BY FRANK STANFORD
To the gentlemen from the south
to the tourists from the north
who write poems about the south
to the dumb-ass students
I’d like to ask one lousy question
have you ever seen a regatta of flies
sail around a pile of shit
and then come back and picnic on the shit
just once in your life have you heard
flies on shit
because I cut my eye teeth on flies
floating in shit
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