"I am my mother's uncle," Ron Kearney said by way of introduction, nodding congenially as he spoke, showing every bit of his trademark politeness that had won him scores of friends and lovers throughout his fifty-eight years of life. He stood in the foyer of his home, wearing colorful cartoon boxer shorts and a threadbare undershirt. Having always been one to favor bright colors and the absurd, his shorts depicted hundreds of colorful marshmallow shapes with the words "Magically Delicious" emblazoned over the back side.

I think it's only fair that since I spend so much time there, I might as well use the setting in a new project. See you at the park.

Selina Charlotte "Charlie" Brooks brought the small cellular telephone closer, turning it a bit to remove some of the glare reflected back from an overhead streetlight. In the dark, the telephone's small screen was surprisingly bright, a brilliant candy-white square that her relatives only one or two generations back would have considered magical, if not other-worldly. Its light reflected now from her nose and cheeks as she read the line of text, her lips moving soundlessly as she read silently from left to right.

Yes, she had read it correctly but now, the second time through, still made no sense. What frogs? What did it mean?

His pocket pager vibrated noisily and nudged him from sleep, dislodging troubled dreams to bring an unfamiliar setting into focus. Lifting his head from an oversized pillow he stared at the dark, heavy curtains, blinking two or three times until both eyes finally worked together.

...What would you rather do? Wake up beside me or to the sight of three smelly guys in your hotel room?

A warm hand brushed his bare buttocks and then slid up his back. A thousand points of tiny, tingling shivers crawled over him and he shivered involuntarily as if to cast them away. Throwing the covers aside, he rolled out and onto his feet while pulling the large pillow up to cover his nakedness.

"Good morning," Sheila said sleepily, propping her head up on one arm. The bed covers curled up over one breast, leaving the other exposed. "You shy all the sudden, Chief Collins?"

She giggled. Her breast quivered in an interesting, provocative way. It took a bit but Daryl finally looked away from it-from her.

Ah, come on, Chief. I'll behave. If not, you can lock me up.

Dominic Englund Montessori carried his bride, Jacqueline, over the threshhold and, after nearly tripping on a loose piece of carpeting, set her down awkwardly on the floor of their new home.

"Welcome to your new house, Jacqueline Alexandria Wintersteen-Montessori," he beamed, using his wife's full name for effect. Though he would never admit it, there was a bit of spite there; Jacqueline insisted that he use her first and middle names when addressing her: Jacqueline Alexandria. It was a constant flash point between them and occasionally, he used all four names to ridicule what he perceived to be her pretensious, shallow nature. This time, she missed the barb.

"I love you, Dominic," she said, pulling him close to kiss him properly on the cheek. "We're going to be so happy here."

Looking around the room, a look of disgust settled over her face to be quickly replaced with a look of dismay.

"Well," she corrected, looking back toward him, "we'll be happy once you get this place cleaned up."

This morning, after pulling my car into my parking space at work, I stepped out of the car and walked around to the other side to get my laptop computer out of the back seat. As I was opening the door, I saw a black guy running across the parking lot. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt and was probably in his late forties or early fifties - certainly no older. He looked like a shipyard worker who was trying to catch a bus.

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