Plastic cocktail glasses wholesale

Bought my ex birthday presents from his kids, and the irony is real

2023.05.31 17:06 LifeIsHardToday55 Bought my ex birthday presents from his kids, and the irony is real

My absolute trash pit of an ex has his birthday today, and even though I didn't want to, I bought him two gifts, one from each of his kids. He's an alcoholic who ruined our marriage because of it, so I bought him a new cocktail glass and a new beer cup. And he's so happy about it.
Just had to vent and share my irony.
submitted by LifeIsHardToday55 to Adulting [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 16:39 SovietStrength [WTS] [WTT] Big Clearout: Creed Aventus, Viking, Silver Mountain Water, Virgin Island Water. Prada L’Homme Intense. Dior Eau Sauvage Cologne. Roja Elysium Parfum Cologne. Chanel Allure EDT. (Bottle) (Decant)

Shipping is free over $60
Bundle discounts for multiple items. 10 dollars off each additional bottle with saved shipping costs.
Accept PayPal, Venmo, or Zelle. Buyer covers 3% GS if they’d like.
https://imgur.com/a/1uy82uU
For trades looking for the following specifically.
Loewe 001 EDP
Givenchy Gentlemen Cologne
Rogue Perfumery Mousse Illuminee
Etat You or Someone Like You
————————————————-
Bottles
Whichever viking sells gets the cap. Keeping the other.
Creed Aventus ‘22 full presentation 90/100ml - 210 shipped
Viking ‘19 (tester, red plastic peeling) 95/100ml - 175
Viking ‘18 (tester, chipped glass) 97/100ml - 180
Virgin Island Water ‘19 (bottle only) 99/100ml - 220
Silver Mountain Water ‘19 45/50 ml (bottle only) - 120
Green Irish tweed ‘22 tester (no cap with box) 100/100ml - 180
Angels Share (full presentation) 35/50 Ml - 110
Roja Elysium Parfum Cologne (full presentation) ~83/100ml - 165
Chanel Allure Homme EDT (full presentation) 98/100ml - 90
Prada L’Homme intense (with box) 90/100ml - 95
Dior Eau Sauvage 99/100ml (tester with box) - 80
————————————————-
Feminine Bottles
YSL Mon Paris EDP 90ml sealed - 85
—————————————————
Decants
Creed Aventus ‘20 70/75ml - 140
Creed Aventus ‘20 50/100ml - 105
Creed Aventus ‘22 60/100ml - 115
Creed Aventus F batch 7ml - 20
Creed Aventus Cologne 7ml - 20
PDM Godolphin 8ml - 18
PDM Kalan 9ml - 20
Luna Rossa Carbon 7ml - 12
MFK Grand Soir 8ml - 22
Angels Share 10ml - 30
Terre D’Hermes Parfum 5ml - 12
Terre D’Hermes Parfum 10ml - 20
submitted by SovietStrength to fragranceswap [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 16:14 jravitz [WTS] 250+ Bottles - Vintage, Hard to Find, Discontinued, Niche and Designer - Le Labo, Kilian, Amouage, Byredo, Dior, Chanel, Creed, MFK, Tom Ford, Guerlain, Memo Paris, Mind Games, Mizensir, More! (Bottle)

Post here and/or PM me with any questions. Shipping is $5. International is available, please discuss. Free samples with every purchase! Payment is by Venmo, CashApp or Zelle; PayPal must inquire.
All of my contact info as well as all of my bottles for sale, are available in my spreadsheet which you should bookmark and look at for a more updated inventory
Spreadsheet
HOUSE FRAGRANCE SIZE REMAINING Notes/Condition Price Type
1 Amouage Incense Rori Attar 12mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $439 Niche
2 Amouage Material (Woman) 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; Tester Cap $145 Niche
3 Amouage Orris Wakan Attar 12mL 99% Full Full Presentation $419 Niche
4 Amouage Rose Aqor Attar 12mL 99% Full Full Presentation $419 Niche
5 Amouage Vanilla Barka Attar 12mL 99% Full Full Presentation $419 Niche
6 Andy Tauer Cologne du Maghreb 50mL 99% Full First Release, Rectangular Clear Bottle; With box $95 Niche
7 Bond No. 9 Madison Square Park 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $135 Niche
8 By Kilian Apple Brandy on the Rocks 50mL 99% Full Full Presentation, Box has some wear. $160 Niche
9 By Kilian Bamboo Harmony 100mL 100% Full Tester Refill (No Spray) $209 Niche
10 By Kilian Black Phantom 100mL 100% Full Tester Refill (No Spray) $215 Niche
11 By Kilian Gold Knight 100mL 100% Full Tester Refill (No Spray) $209 Niche
12 By Kilian Good Girl Gone Bad 250mL 99% Full Decanter; No Box $800 Niche
13 By Kilian Intoxicated 100mL 100% Full Tester Refill (No Spray) $209 Niche
14 By Kilian Love Don't Be Shy 50mL 99% Full Full Presentation, Box has some wear. $160 Niche
15 Byredo Infloresence 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Niche
16 Byredo Lil Fleur 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Niche
17 Byredo Mixed Emotions 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Niche
18 Byredo Mumbai Noise 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Niche
19 Byredo Sunday Cologne 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Niche
20 Chanel Exclusif Cuir de Russie EdT 200mL 95% Full No Box; Tester $725 Niche
21 Chanel Exclusif Misia EdT 200mL 98% Full Vintage Discontinued Formula; No Box $380 Niche
22 Chanel Exclusif No. 22 EdT 200mL 97% Full $550 Niche
23 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Bois D'Argent 7.5mL 100% Full Official Mini $30 Niche
24 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Bois D'Argent 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 0V01 (2010 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $35 Niche
25 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Cologne Royale 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 1X01 (2011 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $30 Niche
26 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Diorissima 7.5mL 100% Full Official Mini; No Cannister - Price includes shipping $30 Niche
27 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Eau Noire 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 1R01 (2011 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $35 Niche
28 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Eden Roc 7.5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Price includes shipping $30 Niche
29 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Granville 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 0V01 (2010 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $35 Niche
30 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Milly-La-Foret 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 0W01 (2010 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $30 Niche
31 Christian Dior / Dior Privee Mitzah 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 1W01 (2011 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $35 Niche
32 Christian Dior / Dior Privee New Look 1947 5mL 100% Full Official Mini - Batch Code 1R01 (2011 Production Date) - Price includes shipping $30 Niche
33 Clive Christian I Pour Femme (Woody Floral with Vintage Rose) 50mL 99% Full No Box $180 Niche
34 Clive Christian Rock Rose 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $289 Niche
35 Creed Acqua Florentina - F Batch 75mL 95% Full Box, Can add a Creed Cap as well $175 Niche
36 Creed Aventus - 22A11A 100mL 100% Full Full Presentation $250 Niche
37 Creed Aventus Cologne - 2022 Batch 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $234 Niche
38 Creed Aventus Cologne - F Batch (Plastic Cap) 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed in Box $239 Niche
39 Creed Aventus for Her - F567 75mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $190 Niche
40 Creed Erolfa - 15X01 120mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $369 Niche
41 Creed Erolfa - F Batch 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $160 Niche
42 Creed Green Irish Tweed - 19U11 50mL 99% Full Full presentation with Box $160 Niche
43 Creed Green Irish Tweed - 2022 Batch 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $195 Niche
44 Creed Himalaya - 22B01A 100mL 100% Full Tester with Square Style Cap $175 Niche
45 Creed Jardin D'Amalfi 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $199 Niche
46 Creed Millesime Imperial - F Batch 100mL 100% Full Comes with Box and SQUARE Older Style Cap. $180 Niche
47 Creed Neroli Sauvage - F241 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $160 Niche
48 Creed Original Santal - F511 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $160 Niche
49 Creed Royal Mayfair - 15R01 120mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $229 Niche
50 Creed Royal Oud - F BATCH 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $275 Niche
51 Creed Royal Water - 20C01N 100mL 100% Full Tester with Square Style Cap $175 Niche
52 Creed Silver Mountain Water - 21V01A 100mL 100% Full Tester with Square Style Cap $180 Niche
53 Creed Spring Flowers 2023 75mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $225 Niche
54 Creed Tabarome - 21Y01A 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $160 Niche
55 Creed Virgin Island Water - F473 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $195 Niche
56 Creed White Amber - 17W01 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $149 Niche
57 Creed Wind Flowers - 22C01B 75mL 100% Full Tester with Cap $199 Niche
58 Diptyque Do Son Eau de Toilette 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $99 Niche
59 DS & DURGA Amber Kiso 100mL 100% Full New, No Box $125 Niche
60 Frederic Malle Eau de Magnolia 10mL 100% Full Official Travel Spray $55 Niche
61 Gallagher Bergamot Silk 100mL 99% Full $84 Niche
62 Giorgio Armani / Armani Prive Gardenia Antigua 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $155 Niche
63 Giorgio Armani / Armani Prive Pierre de Lune 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $155 Niche
64 Giorgio Armani / Armani Prive Rose Alexandrie 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $155 Niche
65 Guerlain Angelique Noire 30mL 100% Full Mini Bee Bottle Decant $215 Niche
66 Guerlain Angelique Noire 10mL 100% Full Tall Glass Decant $55 Niche
67 Guerlain Cherry Oud 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $279 Niche
68 Guerlain Cruel Gardenia 200mL 100% Full Brand new tester without box $329 Niche
69 Guerlain Embruns D'Ylang 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $339 Niche
70 Guerlain Epices Volee 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $339 Niche
71 Guerlain Gourmand Coquin 10mL 100% Full Tall Glass Decant $60 Niche
72 Guerlain Herbes Troublantes 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $339 Niche
73 Guerlain Joyeuse Tuberuese 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $349 Niche
74 Guerlain Musc Outreblanc 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $349 Niche
75 Guerlain Oeillet Pourpre 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $339 Niche
76 Guerlain Oud Nude 200mL 95% Full Tester; No Box $369 Niche
77 Guerlain Rose Barbare 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $339 Niche
78 Guerlain Rose Barbare 200mL 90% Full DECANTED - NO ORIGINAL BOTTLE $250 Niche
79 Guerlain Santal Pao Rosa 200mL 100% Full Tester (No Box) $349 Niche
80 Guerlain Tonka Imperiale 30mL 100% Full Mini Bee Bottle Decant $199 Niche
81 Guerlain Tonka Imperiale 10mL 100% Full Tall Glass Decant $55 Niche
82 Hermes / Hermessence Agar Ebene 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $150 Niche
83 Hermes / Hermessence Epice Marine 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $170 Niche
84 Hermes / Hermessence Iris Ukiyoe 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $150 Niche
85 Hermes / Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $150 Niche
86 Hermes / Hermessence Paprika Brasil 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $170 Niche
87 Hermes / Hermessence Santal Massoia 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $170 Niche
88 Hermes / Hermessence Vanille Galante 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $150 Niche
89 Hermes / Hermessence Vetiver Tonka 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box, No Cap $150 Niche
90 Hermes / Hermessence Vetiver Tonka 200mL 100% Full Full Presentation, Brand New. $399 Niche
91 Hiram Green Vetiver 50mL 95% Full Full Presentation $130 Niche
92 House of Sillage Hufflepuff 75mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $325 Niche
93 House of Sillage Nouez Moi 75mL 99% Full Tester $120 Niche
94 I Profumi di Firenze Caterina De Medici 50mL 99% Full No Box $35 Niche
95 Initio Musk Therapy 90mL 99% Full Full presentation with Box $200 Niche
96 Initio Side Effect 10mL 100% Full Official Travel Atomizer $75 Niche
97 Knize Knize Ten 125mL 99% Full No Box $110 Niche
98 Le Labo Another 13 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $189 Niche
99 Le Labo Baie 19 100mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $225 Niche
100 Le Labo Cedrat 37 – Berlin City Exclusive 100mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $275 Niche
101 Le Labo Cedrat 37 – Berlin City Exclusive 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $225 Niche
102 Le Labo Gaiac 10 – Tokyo City Exclusive 100mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $400 Niche
103 Le Labo Mousse de Chene 30 - Amsterdam City Exclusive 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $300 Niche
104 Le Labo Musc 25 – Los Angeles City Exclusive 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $250 Niche
105 Le Labo Rose 31 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $175 Niche
106 Le Labo Tabac 28 – Miami City Exclusive 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $250 Niche
107 Le Labo The Noir 29 50mL 99% Full Sprayed Once to Test / Brand New; No Box $175 Niche
108 Maison Crivelli Bois Datchai 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $169 Niche
109 Maison Crivelli Rose Saltifolia 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $159 Niche
110 Maison Francis Kurkdjian 724 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $365 Niche
111 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Amyris Femme 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $139 Niche
112 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Amyris Femme Extrait 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
113 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Amyris Femme Extrait Special Edition Bottle 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $245 Niche
114 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Celestia 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $115 Niche
115 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Celestia Cologne Forte 200mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $279 Niche
116 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Celestia Cologne Forte 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $149 Niche
117 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Celestia Forte 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $159 Niche
118 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Universalis Cologne Forte 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $119 Niche
119 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Universalis EdT 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $219 Niche
120 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Vitae 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $219 Niche
121 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Vitae Cologne Forte 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $119 Niche
122 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Vitae Forte EdP 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $159 Niche
123 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540 EdP 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $205 Niche
124 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Gentle Fluidity Gold 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
125 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Grand Soir 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $170 Niche
126 Maison Francis Kurkdjian L'eau a La Rose 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $129 Niche
127 Maison Francis Kurkdjian L'eau a la Rose 35mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $90 Niche
128 Maison Francis Kurkdjian L'homme A la Rose 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $159 Niche
129 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Oud EdP 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $170 Niche
130 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Oud Extrait 10mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $35 Niche
131 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Oud Satin Mood EdP 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $190 Niche
132 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Petit Matin 70mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $145 Niche
133 Maison Francis Kurkdjian Petit Matin 200mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $350 Niche
134 Mark Birley Charles Street 75mL 97% Full Travel Version $90 Niche
135 Masque Milano Tango 35mL 99% Full $90 Niche
136 Memo Paris French Leather 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Cap $135 Niche
137 Memo Paris Inle 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Cap $135 Niche
138 Memo Paris Italian Leather 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box or Cap $135 Niche
139 Memo Paris Lailabella 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $135 Niche
140 Memo Paris Marfa 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $135 Niche
141 Memo Paris Moon Fever 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $135 Niche
142 Memo Paris Oriental Leather 75mL 100% Full Tester; No Box; No Cap $135 Niche
143 Mind Games Caissa 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $250 Niche
144 Mind Games Gardez (Black Queen) 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $225 Niche
145 Mind Games J'Adoube 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $299 Niche
146 Mind Games Scholar's Mate 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $225 Niche
147 Mizensir Cologne de Figuer 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $175 Niche
148 Mizensir Cologne de Matte 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $175 Niche
149 Mizensir Ideal Oud 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
150 Mizensir Mythique Vetiver 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $175 Niche
151 Mizensir Sweet Prailine 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
152 Mizensir Bois de Mysore 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
153 Mona di Orio Cuir 75mL 99% Full No Box $120 Niche
154 Oliver and Co. M.O.U.S.S.E. 50mL 99% Full Limited Edition 87/133 $110 Niche
155 Parfums de Nicolai Patchouli Intense 100mL 98% Full Full Presentation $119 Niche
156 Perris Monte Carlo Tuberuese Absolue 100mL 99% Full No Box $99 Niche
157 Pomare's Stolen Perfume Angel's Share 9mL 70% Full No Box $40 Niche
158 Roja Dove Apex Discovery Atomizer 7.5mL 99% Full $50 Niche
159 Roja Dove Creation-E Essence de Parfum 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
160 Roja Dove Scandal Essence de Parfum 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $165 Niche
161 Roman Monegal L'eau de Rose 50mL 97% Full $70 Niche
162 Santa Maria Novella Sandalo 100mL 95% Full No Box $80 Niche
163 The Harmonist Desired Earth Eau de Parfum 50mL 100% Full Brand new, Sealed $219 Niche
164 The Harmonist Magnetic Wood Parfum 50mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $229 Niche
165 Tom Ford Beau de Jour 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $1,000 Niche
166 Tom Ford Ebene Fume 250mL 99% Full Decanter; No Box $750 Niche
167 Tom Ford Ebene Fume 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $170 Niche
168 Tom Ford Fougere Platine 250mL 90% Full Decanter; No Box $625 Niche
169 Tom Ford Fougere Platine 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $1,000 Niche
170 Tom Ford Fucking Fabulous 250mL 99% Full Decanter; No Box $750 Niche
171 Tom Ford Fucking Fabulous 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $180 Niche
172 Tom Ford Grey Vetiver Parfum 100mL 100% Full Sealed, New in Box $170 Niche
173 Tom Ford Oud Fleur 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $1,000 Niche
174 Tom Ford Oud Wood 250mL 99% Full Decanter; No Box $750 Niche
175 Tom Ford Rose de Chine 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $175 Niche
176 Tom Ford Rose Prick 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $269 Niche
177 Tom Ford Soleil Blanc EdP 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $140 Niche
178 Tom Ford Soleil Brulant 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $145 Niche
179 Tom Ford Soleil Neige 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $850 Niche
180 Tom Ford Tobacco Oud 50mL 95% Full No Box $180 Niche
181 Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille 50mL 90% Full Full Presentation with Box $155 Niche
182 Tom Ford Tuscan Leather 50mL 100% Full Magnetic Cap Decant $115 Niche
183 Tom Ford Vert des Bois 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $900 Niche
184 Tom Ford White Suede 1000mL 100% Full Sealed Dramming Bottle $850 Niche
185 TVGA Milestones Extrait 9mL 90% Full No Box $40 Niche
186 Washington Tremlett Black Tie 100mL 95% Full $125 Niche
187 Yves Saint Laurent Tuxedo 250mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $375 Niche
188 Acqua di Parma Arancia Di Capri 150mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $65 Designer
189 Acqua di Parma Colonia EdC 100mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $75 Designer
190 Acqua di Parma Colonia Intensa 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $65 Designer
191 Aqua di Parma Magnolia Nobile 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $115 Designer
192 Caron Pour un Homme de Caron Le Matin 125mL 100% Full Opened to test, sprayed once $69 Designer
193 Caron Pour un Homme de Caron Le Soir 125mL 100% Full Opened to test, sprayed once $69 Designer
194 Caron Pour Un Homme Impact Parfum 75mL 97% Full No Box $175 Designer
195 Chanel Allure Homme Sport - Aftershave Balm 100mL 99% Full No Box $65 Designer
196 Chanel Allure Pour Femme EdT 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $65 Designer
197 Chanel Antaeus 100mL 85% Full Silver Sprayer $125 Designer
198 Chanel Bleu de Chanel - Aftershave Balm 100mL 99% Full No Box, Minor Cosmetic Damage $55 Designer
199 Chanel Bleu de Chanel - Aftershave Lotion 100mL 99% Full No Box, Minor Cosmetic Damage $55 Designer
200 Chanel Bleu de Chanel Parfum 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $130 Designer
201 Chanel Chance Eau Tendre EdP 50mL 90% Full Tester; No Box $90 Designer
202 Chanel Chance Eau Tendre EdT 150mL 99% Full Tester; No Box $120 Designer
203 Chanel Coco EdP 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $85 Designer
204 Chanel Coco Mademoiselle - Moisturizing Body Lotion 200mL 99% Full No Box $55 Designer
205 Chanel Coco Mademoiselle EdP 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $90 Designer
206 Chanel Coco Mademoiselle EdT 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $65 Designer
207 Chanel Coco Mademoiselle L'eau Privee 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $90 Designer
208 Chanel Cristalle Eau Vert EdT Concentree 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $135 Designer
209 Chanel Cristalle EdP 50mL 95% Full Tester; No Box $135 Designer
210 Chanel No. 19 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $115 Designer
211 Chanel No. 5 Eau Premiere 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $85 Designer
212 Chanel No. 5 EdP 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $85 Designer
213 Chanel Platinum Egoiste 75mL 99% Full SPLASH, NOT SPRAY Older Formulation $125 Designer
214 Christian Dior Dior Homme Sport - 2017 Version 125mL 99% Full Tester; No Box Batch Code is 6Y02 $89 Designer
215 Christian Dior J'adore in Joy EdT 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap, No Box $60 Designer
216 Floris 007 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap, No Box $100 Designer
217 Floris A Rose For... 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $65 Designer
218 Floris Cefiro 100mL 100% Full Tester with Cap, No Box $59 Designer
219 Floris Lily of the Valley 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Box. $65 Designer
220 Gucci Gucci Guilty Absolute 90mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $70 Designer
221 Guerlain Habit Rouge L'instinct 100mL 99% Full Sprayed once $84 Designer
222 Guerlain L'instant de Guerlain Pour Homme EXTREME 10mL 100% Full VINTAGE BLACK RIM - DECANT $50 Designer
223 Hermes Twilly 80mL 100% Full Tester; No Box $65 Designer
224 Jo Malone Amber & Lavender 30mL 90% Full No Box $52 Designer
225 Jo Malone English Oak & Redcurrant 30mL 80% Full No Box $49 Designer
226 Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia 100mL 100% Full Brand New with Gift Box and Gift Set (Body Wash, Body Lotion) $180 Designer
227 Jo Malone Rose & White Musk Absolu 100mL 100% Full No Box $180 Designer
228 Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense 50mL 99% Full Tester; No Box $90 Designer
229 Thierry Mugler A*MEN 100mL 99% Full Rubber Flask; No Box $75 Designer
230 Thierry Mugler A*MEN Ultra Zest 100mL 85-90% Full Rubber Flask; No Box $250 Designer
231 Tom Ford Costa Azzura Parfum 50mL 100% Full Brand New, Sealed $130 Designer
232 Amouage Cristal and Gold Ladies 50mL 95% Full Vintage, Incredibly hard to find. Full presentation in nice condition $399 Vintage
233 Cartier Santos EdT 100mL 60% Full Splash; Refillable; Original Formulation; No Box; Some Wear on Case $149 Vintage
234 Chanel Egoiste Cologne Concentree 100mL 97% Full Bottle Only $399 Vintage
235 Chanel Gardenia EdT 100mL 100% Full Vintage; Sealed $390 Vintage
236 Crabtree & Evelyn Crabtree & Evelyn Extract of West Indian and Sicilian Limes 125mL 100% Full Full presentation with Box $209 Vintage
237 Dunhill Cologne 125mL 99% Full Vintage; Splash $100 Vintage
238 Escada Pour Homme Aftershave 75mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $165 Vintage
239 Escada Pour Homme Aftershave 125mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $240 Vintage
240 Floris Bay Rum 3.5 Oz 97% Full Vintage; Splash. "Use as a cologne, after shave lotion, or hair lotion." $84 Vintage
241 Floris Special 127 100mL 98% Full Vintage; Dark Blue Box., 2 Royal Warrants, Vintage Version $70 Vintage
242 Fragonard Zizanie 240mL 80% Full Shaker bottle (Splash, not spray) no box. At least 80% Full. $240 Vintage
243 Geo F Trumper Ajaccio Violets 100mL 99% Full $40 Vintage
244 Gucci Envy Aftershave 50mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $140 Vintage
245 Gucci Envy Aftershave 100mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $215 Vintage
246 Gucci Rush for Men 50mL 100% Full Full Presentation; These do not come fully filled $190 Vintage
247 Gucci Rush for Men Aftershave 100mL 100% Full BNIB Sealed $140 Vintage
248 Guerlain Heritage EdT 200mL 100% Full New; Vintage; Splash. 1991 Bottle. $225 Vintage
249 Guerlain Samrasa EdP 50mL 100% Full No Box $109 Vintage
250 Guerlain Samsara EdT 1992-1993 Formulation 100mL 100% Full Tester; No Cap; No Box $109 Vintage
251 Jean Desprez Bal a Versailles 9 Oz 70% Full Vintage; Splash; No Box Open to offers on this enormous bottle. $135 Vintage
252 Lacoste Eau de Sport Vivifiante 100mL 99% Full No Box $110 Vintage
253 Lacoste Land 100mL 99% Full $130 Vintage
254 Nino Cerruti Fair Play Pour Homme 100mL 99% Full Full presentation with Box $275 Vintage
255 Paco Rabanne Eau de Metal 20mL 100% Full Vintage; Mini $15 Vintage
256 Ralph Lauren Silver Romance for Men 100mL 80% Full No Box, No Cap $145 Vintage
257 Revillon Pour Homme Eau de Toilette Super Concentrate 60mL 99% Full Atomizer $190 Vintage
258 Revillon Pour Homme Eau de Toilette Super Concentrate 90mL 99% Full Atomizer $290 Vintage​
submitted by jravitz to fragranceswap [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 16:10 chuckhustmyre [TH] 100 CEMETERY (Part Two of Two) by Chuck Hustmyre

When the old man got within range, John kicked at him with his good leg, but the old timer was quick, much quicker than he looked. He ducked to his right, side stepping John's lashing foot, then darted in and touched the tip of the prod to John's leg. Fire--that's what it felt like. White hot fire. A jolt went through John's body that made his eyeballs hurt. And just like that, the old man slipped in again and jabbed him in the stomach. Then, as John rolled onto his belly, the tip touched his back.
John curled into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest.
"Get through that door, boy," the old man said. "Move it, now!" Like herding an ornery animal.
And like an animal, John Burke responded, lifting himself onto all fours and crawling toward the exit. Halfway across the floor, the old man jammed the cattle prod against John's ass. He cried out and scampered through the door.
As soon they were out of the room, the old man clicked his cheek a couple of times like he was calling a dog. "Get on your feet, like a good boy." John struggled to his feet as the door closed behind him and the bolts slammed into place. He stood at one end of a narrow passage, dark, except for a single bulb hanging from the ceiling at the far end. Again, John felt the prod touch his back.
"Get!" the old man said.
John limped toward the light.
The passage emptied into a windowless room, low ceilinged and big. The old man forced him into a chute--a cattle chute. Horizontal steel poles on each side formed a walkway barely wide enough for a man's shoulders. The poles were stacked four high, the top pole about five feet off the ground. Every six or eight feet stood a vertical brace.
The old man closed and locked a sliding wooden door behind them, then bent and slipped between two of the horizontal poles. Outside the chute, he prodded John to keep him moving. As John walked toward the end, the old man thumped him two or three times with the prod but didn't shock him.
Suddenly, an overpowering stench hit John and his feet stopped moving. He looked to the right, toward the source of the smell, and saw a stainless steel table, on top of which lay a man's lifeless body. He was on his belly with his head turned and John could see the face of the man who'd been goaded out of the room just before him. The white-haired old lady stood beside the table gripping an electric carving knife in one latexed hand, while with her other gloved hand she pressed the man's leg firmly against the table. Bile gurgled up into John's throat as the old lady thumbed the switch on the carving knife and sliced a hunk of meat from the back of the dead man's thigh.
John spewed vomit and dropped to his knees. "Get up, boy," he heard from behind him as the prod juiced his lower back. John screamed in pain as he staggered to his feet. "Move it," the old man said. With legs like jelly, John stumbled forward.
The cut he'd worked into the leather belt was just to the right of the steel loop through which the handcuffs ran. Only an eighth of an inch of leather remained. Using his body, John shielded his hands from the old man's view while he tugged on the handcuffs and hobbled along.
The sides of the chute closed in on him as he reached the end. Near panic, John tried to turn around, but before he could the old man slid a gate closed behind him that penned him in.
Trapped.
From the corner of his eye, John watched the old man. Saw him step towards a workbench against the wall, fifteen feet away, and toss the cattle prod onto it. He pulled a ballpeen hammer down from a wall above the bench. It had a big stainless steel head with a foot long wooden handle. The old man turned and walked toward John with a casual, bored look on his face, just another day in the slaughterhouse.
Bent as far forward as he could, John thrust his hips back and jerked his cuffed hands forward, but the leather belt held. Behind him he heard the old man's shoes scrape the cement floor. Desperate, John twisted his hands to the right. The leather still held. Just an eighth of an inch between a chance for escape and a hammer to the back of the head.
A shoe scuff on the floor. Afraid to look, John stared at his hands. He groaned as he thrust his hips to the right and jerked his hands to the left. The leather tore and the belt pulled free from his waist.
"Where you think you're going?" the old man said.
John ducked and heard the top pole ring as the ballpeen hammer glanced off of it. With the belt still dangling from his handcuffs, John doubled over and stepped between the two middle poles on his left side. To his right the old man cursed him and swung the hammer between the bars. The hammer thumped into John's right hip but he didn't stop. Once through the bars he ran--hobbled on his painful ankle--toward the wall, trying to put as much distance between him and the old man as possible.
"Momma, momma, he got loose!"
"Catch him quick 'fore he gets away," the old lady screamed.
John Burke was lost. He didn't know where he was our how to get out. He turned, saw the old man race around the end of the chute, hammer cocked over his shoulder. John's back was to the wall. Wildly, he glanced around for something he could use. There was nothing.
To his left, twenty feet away was the corner of the room and a closed door.
The old man saw John looking. "You'll never get out." But he slowed down, approaching cautiously, angling toward the door to cut off John's only escape route.
The old man looked nervous about the door. John broke and ran. Waves of pain shot up his leg from his swollen ankle but he ignored it. The old man lunged toward the door to intercept. John tried to stop and start, throw a fake at the old man, but his ankle folded and he hit the floor.
The old man dropped to one knee beside him and raised the hammer over his head. "Got you!"
But as the killer blow came down, John shifted slightly to the side and the hammer struck the cement beside his head, sending tiny chips flying into his face. He lashed out with his good foot, missed the old man's head but caught him in the ribs. As the old man grunted and toppled over, John got to his feet and struggled to the door.
Locked.
John twisted the knob and screamed in rage. The old man stood up. Mounted on the wall next to the door was a gray metal circuit box, the handle protruding from its side angled up in the on position. An electrical shut off.
"Get him, poppy," the old woman screamed from the other side of the room. A nice old couple who called each other momma and poppy.
John grabbed the handle with both hands, shot a glance at the old man, saw him bearing down, and pulled.
Lights out. Total darkness.
Just in time John ducked. He heard the old man grunt as the hammer dug into the drywall. With his manacled hands, John shoved the old man, then ran along the wall to his left. Moving through the dark it felt like a mile. The old lady screamed.
Cuffed hands out in front with the torn leather belt dangling from them, John ran into the wall and turned right. He had no idea where to go or what to do. Just knew he had to put as much distance as he could between him and the old man. At the next corner he turned right again. Just up ahead he heard the old lady. "Poppy, I can't see."
He slowed down, tried to catch his breath. Then the lights came on. Poppy must have gotten to the switch. John found himself next to the stainless steel butchering table, and face-to-face with the old lady. With the power on, her electric carving knife started buzzing.
"I got him, poppy!" she said and chopped at him with the knife.
John jerked his head back as the humming blade passed less than an inch from his eyes.
"Momma!" the old man screamed.
John looked across the big room at the old man by the door. Hammer swinging from his hand, he started to run towards them but had to go around the cattle chute. The old lady again cut at John but this time he managed to catch her wrist in his hands. As he kicked her in the shin he heard one of his bare toes crack, but she loosened her grip on the knife and he was able to jerk it out of her hand.
The old man rounded the end of the chute and howled in rage as he saw them struggling. Momma clawed at John's eyes with both hands, but he managed to close them just as her nails raked his face. Carving knife in hand, he slashed at the old lady. The vibrating blade ripped into the side of her neck and cut across her throat. She gurgled up a foul smelling blast of air from her open trachea that made John gag. With her eyes wide open, the old lady looked stunned as her knees folded and she collapsed to the ground.
John Burke turned and the old man was right on top of him, screaming, swinging the hammer at his head. As John raised the carving knife, the hammer snapped the blade off and knocked it from his hand. The old man lunged closer, grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and raised the hammer again.
John threw an awkward jab with his shackled hands and hit the old man in the face with just enough force to stun him into losing his grip on John's neck. Then with a two-handed uppercut to the gut, this one with a little more behind it, he doubled the old man over, then ran for the door.
Standing in front of the door, he jerked down the power switch and again shrouded the room in darkness. He raised his good leg and kicked the wooden door as hard as he could. It gave just a little. Behind him he heard the old man crying, and something else--things being knocked over, things hitting the floor, the sounds of searching.
As John kicked again, his bad ankle screamed in pain, yet still the door held. He caught his breath, raised his good leg and managed one more kick. This time the knob splintered off and the door flew open. Stairs led up.
Behind him, a two-count metallic click echoed through the room. The unmistakable sound of a shell being chambered. A shotgun.
Fighting back the pain, John loped up the stairs as the shotgun blasted behind him. Upstairs he found himself in an empty kitchen. He moved down a short hallway that opened into a room he recognized, the den of the old lady's house. It was dark outside and only a few lights were on inside the house.
Footsteps on the cellar stairs.
Frantically, John looked around, seeing the big bay windows, but no door to the outside. He knocked the dead telephone to the ground, snatched up the end table, and heaved it through one of the windows.
Outside the air was warm and muggy, the ground soft like after a rain. Naked, except for the handcuffs and leather belt hanging from them, John staggered toward the woods just beyond the house. As he reached the first trees he heard another shotgun blast behind him, heard glass shatter, heard pellets tearing through the trees to his right.
Into the trees, getting some of them between him and the house in case the old man ripped off another shot.
"Murderer! I'll kill you," the old timer yelled through the trees. Almost funny, a minute ago the old man trying to bash his brains in with a hammer but still had the nerve to call him a murderer. Not to mention the sweet old lady carving a man like a Christmas turkey.
John turned forty-five degrees to the right. Choosing a zig-zag over a straight line. A minute later he heard another shot, then the pellets ripped into the branches off to his left. A frustration shot. The old man had guessed he'd turn but he'd guessed the wrong way.
He'd gotten out of shape. Just a few minutes into the woods he was puffing like a steam train, a stitch like a knife twisting into his side. John could feel his ankle starting to swell. Time for the zag so he turned left, crossed through what he guessed was fifty or sixty yards of woods, then suddenly burst into a clearing--the cemetery. The high three-quarter moon cast short, dark shadows from the tombstones. Blackness in a sea of night.
Something crashed through the brush behind him in the distance, followed by bark of a big dog. John had trouble as he stepped over the low spiked fence that surrounded the graveyard. For a second he had to put all of his weight on his bad leg and came close to impaling himself.
John remembered another fence, a six-foot iron one that spanned the front of the property, the half-inch thick bars thrust at the sky like black spears. If it circled the whole property, how the hell was he going to get out?
The barking grew louder.
As he limped between the gravestones, John heard the old man cursing in the distance, farther away than the dog, but getting closer. Terror's icy hand gripped John Burke's heart. His feet stopped moving and he dropped down onto a soft, moist patch of earth and leaned his back against a marble slab that marked someone's final resting place, someone whose troubles were over for good. John put his head into his hands as despair washed over him.
He wasn't going to get away. Not on a bad ankle. Not with his hands cuffed. Not from a madman with a dog and shotgun. A madman who kept humans like cattle, who beat men to death with a hammer, whose wife ran a human butcher shop. They were close, the old man and his dog. John could hear the dog tearing through the underbrush just inside the woods, just beyond the cemetery fence. In a minute it would all be over. He wondered if Gail would ever find out what happened to him? To die like this, in a bone yard, victim to a crazy old man and his even crazier wife.
Fear, despair, hopelessness--these feelings surged through John as a sob racked his body so hard it bounced his back off the marble tombstone and shot a bolt of pain down his spine. Then, as if cleansed by fire, those feelings melted like snow, replaced by something new, by something better, by something that fueled him--Rage.
Perched in front of the grave next to him was a thick marble urn, holding a bouquet of long dead flowers. John rolled to it, grabbed the urn in both hands, and dumped out the withered flora. He felt the comforting weight of the urn, heavy enough to crush a dog's skull, or a man's.
He wasn't going to make it easy. If they were going to kill him, they'd have to work for it. The headstones were too small to hide behind unless he crouched down and John didn't want to crouch down and hide. He was through hiding, besides, his ankle couldn't take much crouching. Better to let the dog see him, try to get rid of the mutt before the old man made it out of the woods.
The underbrush got quiet. The dog was out of the woods. No more barking. The moonlight and the shadows played tricks on John's eyes. A glimpse of movement at the fence then nothing. He strained his eyes, willing them to see through the darkness but it was his ears that responded, picking up the quick thumping of padded feet on the wet grass. The sound coming from his left. John raised the urn and turned, then heard it behind him, much closer. A throaty growl. He tried to spin around but the furry beast hit him in the back.
Claws raked his bare shoulder blades as he slammed face first into the ground and the marble urn flew from his hands, useless. Sharp teeth gripped the back of his head and shook it like the stuffed head of a doll. His scalp tore--he actually felt it--as the dog growled and bit harder.
"Get him, boy!" the old man shouted from somewhere near the edge of the woods.
John used his good left leg to push into the ground and roll. The dog tightened its grip on John's head and tried to roll with him but John used his arms to topple the German Shepherd off of him. As the brute tried to regain his feet, John kept rolling until he was on top with the dog pinned under him. The canine's jaws sprung open, looking for something to bite as John grabbed the animal's big head, one hand on each side, and forced the handcuff chain and part of the leather belt into the back of its mouth.
With his naked body pressing down on the dog, John forced the Shepherd's head back. The handcuff chain cut into the roof of the dog's mouth as John pushed back harder and harder. The beast's nails ripped at John's chest and thighs, but still he forced the big head back until the dog's agonized yelping was cut short by a loud crack, like the dry snap of a rotten branch, as its neck broke and body went limp.
John rolled off of the dead dog and struggled to his feet. The old man yelled, "Did you get him, Butch? Did you get him?" John turned toward the sound of the man's voice and saw him stumble out of the woods, just on the other side of the fence, shotgun held across his chest. The old man's eyes locked on the animal lying on the ground. "Butch!" he cried, voice cracked with emotion Then he raised his shotgun.
John dropped behind a headstone just as a blast ripped through the air. Pellets smacked into the other side of the stone. Then, as the double click of a new shell being racked into the chamber echoed across the graveyard, John scrambled away on all fours, keeping his head below the top of the tombstones.
By the time he reached the cemetery fence, John could barely move. His breath came in ragged gasps; his chest, shoulders, and thighs were on fire; and the back of his neck felt wet and sticky. He lifted his cuffed hands over his head and wiped at his neck. His palms came away covered with blood, blood that looked almost black in the moonlight.
One foot got tangled going over the fence and John fell, landing with a thud on the other side. Behind him, fifty yards at most, he could hear the old man's quick shuffle coming across the cemetery. The old man mumbling and cursing to himself. Once John got into the tree line he felt a little safer, something between him and muzzle of that shotgun. But the going was slow. Much tougher than before. He started to feel dizzy. The dog had torn him up and he knew he was bleeding badly.
He'd made it this far but knew there was no way he could make it all the way back home, at least not tonight. Too tired and too hurt. But with the dog dead, all he had to do was shake the old man off his trail, then hole up somewhere until daylight. In the morning he would parallel the road just inside the trees to keep out of sight. His house was only two miles away. He would make it even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees the whole way.
He ran into the fence. Six feet tall, made of pointed wrought iron bars, no more than ten inches apart. Impossible to slip between them. The bars braced by two thin rectangular, iron beams that ran the length of the fence. One, a foot from the ground; the other, a foot from the top.
John hadn't gained any distance on the old man. He could hear his thrashing back in the trees, his slow, steady pace, his mumbling punctuated by curses.
There was only one way to get out and that was over the fence. John set his feet on the bottom support and grabbed the top crossbar with both hands, but with his wrists cuffed he couldn't spread his hands out. He couldn't climb.
He managed to pull himself up so his chin was over the top of the fence and then swung his good leg up. It didn't go high enough. Arms straining, he swung it up harder and managed to hook his heel on the top support, between two of the bars. That's when he lost his grip.
John fell but his foot stayed. He heard his ankle crack and he screamed. Caught between the two vertical bars and the horizontal support, his bare foot was wedged in tight and he hung upside down, naked, like a stuck pig being bled in a slaughterhouse.
The old man stepped out from the trees, shotgun held across his chest like a soldier. Fifteen feet from John, he raised it to his shoulder and grinned as he pulled the trigger. CLICK.
"Goddamit!" He racked the pump, took aim, and pulled the trigger again. Another empty click. This time he slammed the pump back and stared into the open chamber. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled, then grabbed the barrel in a two handed grip.
He swung it like a baseball bat at John's head and all John Burke could do was close his eyes. Just before the wooden stock crashed into his skull, he heard himself say, "Gail."
* * *
Gail Burke was on the toilet, in the middle of peeing, when the doorbell rang. "John," she heard herself say. "God, please let it be John." She pulled on her jeans and ran to the door, didn't even flush. But it wasn't John. It was a man, old but distinguished looking in a dark suit with a pale blue tie draped in front of a starched white shirt. She glanced behind him and saw a van parked in her driveway. Not a minivan, but a full-sized, white work van, windowless except for the driver and passenger doors. No name on the side.
"Can I help you?" she asked, losing hope her caller had anything to do with John.
He raised his hands slightly and she noticed they held a round plastic container. Rubbermaid, or Tupperware, with a lid on it. "Yes," she said.
"Mrs. Burke?"
Gail nodded.
My name is Muller, Frank Muller. He nodded to the right. "I live on Cemetery Road."
She gave him a brief smile.
"I've read about your...your husband's disappearance in the paper."
At first she'd had a lot of visitors like this. Well-wishers, sympathizers, but it had been two weeks and people had stopped coming by. Mostly, she guessed they thought John's disappearance maybe wasn't so mysterious after all. Middle-aged man, married for a dozen years, suddenly takes off. Maybe found a young girl. No mystery there. But she knew that wasn't what he'd done. Something terrible had happened. She could feel it.
"Thank you," was all she could think of to say.
He raised his hands again. "I've brought you something. Chili, my wife's secret recipe."
She looked at the container. The two-gallon size. That's a lot of chili, she thought. She caught a whiff of it as he slipped one hand under the container and lifted part of the lid with the other. He said, "Chock full of beef and beans. Put some meat on your bones."
Gail felt her face flush. Her jeans hung loosely on her hips. She'd lost ten pounds since John disappeared and hadn't had it to spare to begin with. "Thank you. Thank you very much, Mr..." She couldn't even remember the gentleman's name.
"Muller," he said.
"Of course," she said quickly. "Thank you again, Mr. Muller." Gail reached for the container. "To be honest I haven't felt much like cooking and that smells delicious. Please tell Mrs. Muller that I said--"
Mr. Muller shook his head. "Buried her recently."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
As she took the chili from him, he forced a smile. "I made it but it's her recipe so if it's good she gets the credit." He laughed a more genuine laugh. "And if it's bad, I'll take the blame."
She felt the heat through the plastic. They said goodbye and Gail Burke went inside to eat a bowl of Mrs. Muller's secret recipe. She felt her stomach growl with hunger. If it tasted as good as it smelled, maybe she'd have two bowls.
THE END
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2023.05.31 16:08 chuckhustmyre [TH] 100 CEMETERY (Part One) by Chuck Hustmyre

Evil often wears a mask.
John Burke felt his tendon tear. It happened just past the DEAD END sign, an instant after his foot struck the edge of the pothole. His right ankle folded and he went down hard--real hard--on the rough asphalt road.
Mid-summer morning, just outside New Orleans. Nylon jogging shorts and a tank top were no protection against road rash. His right knee hit first, then his hands. The pebble-studded pavement devoured the skin on both then bit into his hip, but he barely felt the hip. Maybe the shorts helped, or maybe by then John was in too much pain to notice.
He lay in the street--thank God cars were rare on Cemetery Road--bleeding, clutching his leg. Everything forgotten except his pain. He could see his ankle already starting to swell, turning purple along the inside. When he tried to flex it a white hot bolt of pain shot up his leg.
This is bad, John thought. Really bad. Doctor Van Dykes, surgery, months of physical therapy...
First thing--get off the street. John rolled onto his left side and had to stop and catch his breath as a wave of nausea washed over him. As the blood ran from his hands and knee where the road had carved away hunks of meat, he watched bright crimson drops splash onto the asphalt.
Hundred-year-old oaks overhung Cemetery Road, their branches draped in gray beards of Spanish moss that shaded the street. A quarter-mile past the DEAD END sign, the road bridged over the Chinchuba River, a slow-paced tributary no more than a couple dozen yards wide. Some mornings, mist drifted off the water's surface and into the woods on both sides of the road, giving the place a surreal look.
A perfect place to jog--run--John Burke didn't like using the "J" word. Jogging was what people did on weekends as they watched their bellies grow. John was a runner. At least four times a week with half-a-dozen races a year.
The nearest house--the only house on Cemetery Road--stood at the end, half a mile away, next to the graveyard for which the road was named. Maybe, just maybe, he could limp there, borrow a phone, call Gail. John looked at his watch, just 7:15. His wife didn't leave until eight. If he could get to a telephone she could pick him up and drive him straight to Doctor Van Dykes' office.
The trip was torture. Taking short hops on his left leg, he could make it only ten or fifteen feet before he had to rest. To rest John had to drop his right foot down and put a little weight on it and that sent waves of pain shooting up his leg. Behind him, he saw a trail of blood like red tears on the ground.
At the end of the road, the pavement gave way to a gravel driveway flanked on either side by two white stone columns. A six-foot, spiked, wrought-iron fence disappeared into the woods on either side. Hinged inside the columns gaped a pair of wrought iron gates. Mounted on the left hand column was a brass plaque with the number 100 etched in black. 100 Cemetery Road.
John paused at the top of the driveway and leaned against one of the gates to catch his breath. The drive descended at a slight grade, curved to the right, then vanished into the woods. He'd run past the driveway hundreds of times but had never actually seen the house or the cemetery. There was always something slightly unsettling about the look of it, something that made him pick up his pace as he ran past.
After a deep breath, he started hopping down the gravel drive, using trees along the way as resting points. The house was a hundred yards past the gate. A big two-story, clapboard construction, that looked run down, almost seedy. It had suffered years of wood rot and badly needed a coat of paint.
The gravel path ended at a two-car garage attached to the right side of the house. Left of the house, on the other side, past a stand of trees, John caught a glimpse of the cemetery. He could just make out a low iron fence and a few gray tombstones.
A wooden porch with a decayed railing spanned the front of the house. The front door was solid wood, without windows.
He leaned against the frame and knocked. A minute passed. John knocked again, this time pounding with the bottom of his fist. At least another half minute went by before he heard slippers shuffling on the floor just inside. The door opened just a crack and a white haired old lady peered out. "Yes," she said, suspicion in her voice.
John held up his right leg, showing his bloody knee and black and blue ankle. Exhausted, he didn't have time to mince words. "I'm hurt. Can I use your phone?"
The old lady looked down at John's leg. A look of concern washed over her face as she threw open the door. "Come in. Oh, my goodness, come in."
John stretched his arms across the doorjamb as he hobbled inside the threshold. "If I can just use the phone, my wife will come pick me up."
"What on earth happened?" she said, leading him through the foyer.
"Twisted my ankle in a pothole."
"Oh, my word," she said, turning to look. "Is it very bad?"
"I think so."
"Come sit down. Let me get you something."
The foyer floor was tile, but he wanted to be careful. "I don't want to get blood on anything."
She shook her head. "Don't be silly. Blood washes right out." The old lady stepped toward John and took hold of his left arm, letting him lean some of his weight on her.
In the den, John was relieved to see a wooden floor. As he dropped onto the sofa, he nodded toward a telephone on an end table. "If I can just use the phone..."
A strange look flashed across the old lady's face, but was gone in an instant as she nodded toward the telephone. "That one doesn't work." She pointed toward a door that looked like it led into the kitchen. "You stay put. I'll call somebody for you in just a second, but first let me get you some water."
John tried to protest, but she was determined. While she was gone, he eyed the room. The den was big, with six bay windows overlooking the woods behind the house. The room was filled with old-fashioned furniture and had a cavernous fireplace at one end, but it also had a worn look, and a smell. A smell John always associated with old age, with his grandfather's house in the last few years before he died.
Next to the dead telephone was a framed black and white photo of a pretty young woman in a riding outfit, posing at what looked like the front gate of a ranch. It was the old lady, much younger and much thinner.
When she came back carrying a tall glass of ice water in one hand, John still had both hands clutching his swelling ankle. He jabbed an elbow toward the photo, more for something to say than anything else. "Is that you?"
She nodded. "My father owned the Rocking R ranch.
The name was familiar. One of the biggest meat suppliers in the state. "Owned?" He stressed the past tense.
She nodded. "After Daddy died, we had to sell. Rising interest rates and the drop in beef prices, we got just pennies on the dollar." She sounded bitter.
For a second she stood quiet and John used the lull to introduce himself and explain how he'd hurt his ankle.
She handed him the glass. "I may have seen you jogging before. Looked like somebody was chasing you."
John thanked her and smiled at the image that popped into his head of this nice old lady lurking in the woods close enough to see the road. As he took a long sip from the glass, he noticed a slightly bitter taste that reminded him why he drank bottled. "You live here alone?"
"No. My husband and I are retired. For forty years we owned Muller and Son funeral home."
"That's where we had the service for my father," John said.
"I'm sorry." She patted his shoulder. "When did he pass?"
He had to think for a second. Time flies. "Two years this past spring," he slurred.
She stared at him with a look of compassion. "Our son would have handled that. We sold the business to him four years ago."
John's head began to spin. The glass slipped from his fingers as he crumpled to the floor. Darkness.
* * *
John Burke cracked his eyes and saw blinding lights. Then felt thumping. Someone was thumping on his chest. He opened his eyes all the way. White light, bright white light. Flat on his back, he tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but his arm wouldn't move--at least not far. Just a couple inches then something held it. Same thing happened when he tried to use his other hand.
John felt a cold hard floor beneath him--the rough surface of cement--as he rolled onto his side. There was something wrong with his hands. They were trapped at his waist as he tried again to shield his eyes from the blinding light.
More thumping, this time on his left shoulder. He blinked several times to clear his vision. His eyes focused on a bearded, bare-chested, fat man, squatting on the floor next to him. A pair of steel handcuffs clamped on the big man's wrists were fastened to a belt encircling his waist.
"You okay?" the man said.
John just stared at him, realizing the man wasn't just bare-chested, he was completely naked.
"I said, are you okay?" the bearded man asked again.
"Where am I?" John's head felt like it was going to split open.
The naked fat man shrugged. "I don't know."
John looked down at himself and saw that he too was bare-assed, his own wrists handcuffed and bound to his waist by a two-inch wide leather belt. Using his elbow and good knee, John started to snake away from his new acquaintance.
"You can't get away," the man said.
Get away from where?
The pain in his ankle made him stop. He looked around, saw he was in a room maybe thirty feet by thirty feet. Besides him and the fat man, there were four other men in the room. All naked, all handcuffed and belted.
The bearded man hadn't moved. "It's not me you got to be afraid of." He pointed toward the room's only door. "It's the old man."
* * *
The old man had been in four times to bring food. Slop was more like it. He came into the room carrying the thick brown paste in a couple of five-gallon buckets. The stuff tasted like it had a lot of lard in it.
"How long have you been here?" John asked.
The bearded man--Skeeter he called himself--just shrugged. "The old man always keeps the lights on so we can't tell the difference between day and night."
Along one wall was a chest-high trough into which their keeper poured the paste. A second trough along the adjacent wall held water. Like animals, the men stood in front of the troughs, stuck their faces into them, and slurped.
Like everyone else, everything of John's had been taken from him while he was unconscious: shorts, shirt, socks, shoes, and most important, his watch. In addition to belted handcuffs, the other men wore leg irons, essentially a pair of oversized, stainless steel cuffs with a foot-and-a-half of chain between them. But John had been spared that, probably due to the size of his swollen ankle.
Skeeter didn't know why he was here, why any of them were here. "I was just hitchhiking"
"Hitchhiking?"
He nodded. "On the interstate."
"The old man was driving a van. Pulled over and gave me a ride. After a few minutes he reaches into a cooler between the seats and hands me a beer. I'm talking about a sealed up beer. Popped the top on it myself. I took couple of sips, remember thinking it tasted kind of funny, like it got spoiled. Next thing I know I wake up here--like this." Skeeter tugged at his handcuffs, rattling the chain looped through the belt.
During the next several feedings John got pretty much the same story from three of the other four men. All hitchhikers, all picked up by the old man. The fourth guy, the one the others said had been here the longest, didn't talk. Just leaned against the wall in a stupor.
"Something in the food," Skeeter said.
"What do you mean?"
Skeeter patted his gut. "I didn't have this when I got here." He nodded toward the food trough. "And it makes you tired all the time."
* * *
Feedings. That's the only way John Burke had of marking the passage of time. Seemed like they were spaced out evenly, several hours apart, figured maybe three times a day. It was after the seventh feeding that the old man came and took away the guy who wouldn't talk--the sleepy guy.
He came in wearing a full-length plastic apron and carrying an electric cattle prod. He used the prod to shock the sleepy guy in the ass and wake him up, then delivered a couple more jabs to drive him from the room. Just after the door closed behind them, John heard the two bolts shoved into place.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked Skeeter.
"That's the third one I've seen him take."
"Do they come back?"
Skeeter shook his head.
"Where do they go?"
"I don't know. But...I'm afraid my turn's coming."
"I want to get out of here," John said, "and that looks like the only way out."
"Bad as this place is, I got a feeling what's on the other side of that door is a lot worse."
Hungry as he was, John barely ate. A couple things he'd noticed, the other four men were flabby and they slept a lot, especially after a feeding. The food--slop they called it--had to be the reason. The thick brown paste made everyone fat and sleepy. Something in it, some type of sedative, and maybe something else, something that made you want more. John couldn't remember ever being so hungry. Still, he only took a mouthful at each feeding.
And while the others slept, John worked. The leather belt around his waist was buckled at the back and secured with a small padlock. The handcuffs ran through a stainless steel ring in front. He'd tested the steel parts, the buckle, the lock, and the ring, but didn't think there was any hope of attacking them; the only weak spot was the leather itself.
So as soon as the others filled their bellies and nodded off, John would hobble to the drinking trough. He'd found a slightly rough edge at one corner and had begun scraping the belt against it. The belt was thick and the leather tough. The going was slow, but at least it was something. And something was better than nothing.
* * *
Just after the twenty-ninth feeding, that's when the old man came and took Skeeter away. He'd taken two more since that first one, and two new ones had come in. They came in one at a time, three feedings apart, and just like he imagined it had happened to him, the old man dragged them unconscious into the room and left them. They'd each awakened, naked, shackled, and groggy.
Then it was Skeeter's turn. He must have known because as soon as he heard the bolts slip back his face turned white. He backed himself into one of the far corners, trying to put as much distance between himself and the door as he could.
Skeeter had told John he used to be a wrestler, high school and college, back before the drugs and the booze, back before he'd hit the road. Since then he'd ridden his thumb, crisscrossing the country in search of a good time. Skeeter put up the best fight John had seen from any of them, but the belt, the handcuffs, the leg irons, and the cattle prod were just too much. One two-minute round was all the former wrestler had in him. After that, he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own urine, a blubbering pile of flabby flesh covered in scarlet welts.
The old man grabbed the chain between Skeeter's ankles and dragged him through the door. Helpless, John just watched. The most terrifying thing was the old man's lack of emotion. No spark of evil in those eyes, just the look of a tired man trying to get through another day.
By the thirty-fifth feeding--John figured eleven or twelve days since he arrived--he had managed to saw through almost the entire two-inch leather belt, just an eighth of an inch remained.
Only one other of the original five who were in the room when John woke up was left. The old man came in, wearing his black plastic apron, and carrying the prod. In a minute it was over. He'd prodded the man through the door on hands and knees, the poor bastard doing everything he could to keep from getting shocked. This time only one bolt clicked into place.
For what seemed like an hour John sat in the middle of the room and watched the door, his stomach twisted with fear. Just as exhaustion overtook him and his head started to nod, the bolt shot open and the old man swept back into the room, wielding the cattle prod like a sword. John slid backward against the far wall as the old man's eyes fixed on him. But there was no hatred in them, nor malice as he strode toward John, waving the tip of the prod in a "come here" motion. As the cool wall pressed against John's back, he felt his bladder let go, felt the warm liquid spill down his thighs.
I'm going to die.
(to be continued...)
submitted by chuckhustmyre to shortstories [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 15:59 ChefCarpaccio Mouse infestation in apartment and unsure what to do

Long story short, I'm moving out but my mom is still in the apartment so I want to take care of this quickly. Really don't want to leave her to deal with the mice.
We used to have cats, but they passed recently and that's when we saw the mice. Now they're everywhere. We've killed a bunch with the tomcat traps and I even had to drown one with my bare hands which sucked.
I've torn apart the place trying to find holes, which I've stuffed with steel wool, then foamed and caulked over. We're on the second floor and it seems like they're coming from below. Our building (we're in a co-op) has sent a few exterminators and all they've done is stuff a few holes (I found many more than they did) and give us poison to put down. They drilled in the wall once and pumped poison in but that didn't do anything.
At my wits end with this. I've tried to make sure that all food is inaccessible. The bottom few shelves of our "pantry" (just a big shelf with doors) are just glass, cans and thick plastic. I've even found them in places where there's no food. Our apartment is just tight and cramped and has cabinets bolted into the walls that we can't remove.
The co-op is pretty much hand waving us away (we own the place so can't just leave) and saying "what do you want us to do?"
Any suggestion? I'm really unsure what to do. Do I have any legal rights, or does that only apply to tenants.
Honestly considering mustard gassing my apartment at this point.
submitted by ChefCarpaccio to AskNYC [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 15:23 chuckhustmyre [TH] THE DETOUR by Chuck Hustmyre

Not every town is on the map.
"Daddy, I gotta pee."
Dale Thornton looked over his shoulder at his six-year-old son belted into the back seat of their Jeep Cherokee. As the boy squirmed around, Dale looked at his wife in the passenger seat beside him. "Didn't he just go?"
Carol glanced at her watch. "That was over an hour ago." She twisted to look into the back seat. "Can you hold it?"
In the rearview mirror, Dale saw Jesse shake his head. His wife checked her watch again. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. She was the family mediator, and she had just come up with something that made perfect sense. One of the reasons he loved her so much was her ability to change gears. In himself, Dale recognized his single-mindedness as a drawback. He admired her flexibility. In more ways than one, he thought. She was a good wife and a good mother.
"It's almost five," Carol said. "Let's stop at the next town. We can all use the restroom and get something to eat."
Dale tugged the spiral-bound road atlas down from where he had wedged it between the visor and the roof. They had left Tulsa that morning, headed for Mardi Gras, and he hoped to be in New Orleans by 10 p.m. Looking at the LOUISIANA page, his eyes traced the route he had highlighted in yellow. They had detoured down old U.S. 167. Rural America was disappearing and Dale wanted his son to see something of it before it was completely gone.
They were somewhere south of Ruston. He couldn't remember if they had passed Jonesboro or not, so the next town was either that or--if they'd already passed it--Winnfield. The gas gauge was on a quarter of a tank. They needed to stop anyway. "All right, honey," he said. "We'll take a break."
Carol laid a hand on his leg. "I'm glad we came this way. You can't see anything from the Interstate."
Ten miles later they sprang upon a small town. There was an old-fashioned, carved wooden sign posted beside the highway. Dale read out loud, "Welcome to Batesville. Population 875."
"What's that mean," Jesse asked.
Dale glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "That's how many people live here."
"When somebody dies, do they change the number on the sign?"
Carol smiled over her shoulder at Jesse. "I bet they change it when a baby is born."
Just like her. She didn't like to talk about death or dying. Instead, she liked to focus on the good things in life, babies, birthdays, and family vacations. She had always been like that but more so since her grandfather passed away last year. She had been very close to him, closer than she had ever been to her father.
Dale sneaked a glance at her. She was his angel but an angel with dark secrets. She had shared some of those secrets with him but not all of them, probably because she knew the abuse in her life disturbed him so much. "That sign probably hasn't been changed in twenty years," he said.
"Why put it up if it's not right?" Jesse asked.
Good question. "I don't know, son."
As they got into the little town, Dale was impressed. The side streets that cut off of the highway were lined with neat wooden houses, most of them with white picket fences. A lot of the little towns they had passed through looked run down and dirty, but not this one. Batesville was clean and pretty.
When they came to the town's only traffic light, Dale saw a business on each corner: a hotel, a gas station, a restaurant, and the Batesville General Store. Before the light turned green, Dale pulled the Jeep beside the pumps at the gas station. A middle-aged man wearing oil stained coveralls stepped out from the office. "What can I do you for?" he asked. His tone was friendly, something you didn't hear at many gas stations these days.
Dale stepped out of the driver's seat and stretched. "I need a fill-up and some food." Then he jerked his thumb toward the back seat. "And my son needs to use the head."
The man wiped his hands on a rag he pulled out of his pocket. Then he shook Dale's hand. "Dudley Simpson. I can help you with the gas and the bathroom for your boy, but as for food, afraid all I got is potato chips and sodas." He pointed to the restaurant across the street. "Right over there is the best food in town." He laughed. "Only restaurant we got, but I wouldn't kid you. It's really good. Restroom's not too bad either."
Jesse said he could hold it until they got to the restaurant, so Dale sent him and Carol across the street to get a table. When he reached for the gas pump, Dudley Simpson stopped him. "I don't charge extra for full service. Every car comes through here I pump the gas, look under the hood, and check the tires."
"Don't see that too much anymore," Dale said.
"Guess I'm kind of old-fashioned."
After Dudley finished, Dale added a couple of bucks to the bill. He felt a little awkward, unsure if he could tip the owner of a gas station without insulting him. But Dudley took no offense, just said thank you and asked him to stop in again on their way home.
When Dale turned the key, nothing happened. He turned it again and still nothing happened. Just a click. No dash lights, the motor didn't turn over, nothing. Dudley told him to pop the hood again. After Dale turned the key a couple more times with Simpson's head buried under the hood, Dudley said he'd found the problem. "Alternator's shot. You must've been running on battery for a good while."
"Can you fix it?"
The gas station owner looked at his watch. "Not today. Parts store is closed 'till tomorrow."
Great, just great, Dale thought.
"I could arrange a tow to somewhere else, next town down the highway has a Goodyear Service Center," Dudley said, "but even they won't get to it until tomorrow."
Dale nodded, his mind stuck on having to spend the night in Batesville instead of New Orleans.
"I'll get to it first thing," Dudley said. "Have you out of here by ten o'clock." He pointed at the hotel. "Mrs. Jensen has a nice place. A-C, cable TV, and no bugs."
Great. No bugs.
Dudley told Dale that he could leave the Jeep right where it was. No need to worry about it, he said. They had a town marshal but nothing ever happened in Batesville. So quiet the state police never even came by.
"Sorry I'm blocking your pumps," Dale said.
Dudley shrugged. "Other side's open." Then he looked at his watch. "Besides, it's five-thirty. I close in half an hour."
As he crossed the street, Dale remembered his gun. A Smith and Wesson .357 revolver that he always brought with him on road trips. You never knew what could happen. They might break down on the highway and get attacked by a drug-crazed motorcycle gang. The gun was in the cargo compartment, wrapped inside a cloth and tucked between the spare tire and the side wall. It would be safe enough.
At the restaurant he told Carol the news and in typical Carol fashion she looked on the bright side. "It'll be fun being stranded in a small town," she said. "Who knows what'll happen?"
"Do they have TV?" Jesse asked.
A cute young waitress served them. The plastic tag pinned to her blouse said her name was April. When she brought out their food she set Jesse's down first.
"That's the cutest little mark on your face," she said. "Almost looks like lipstick."
Unabashedly, Jesse pointed to the red oval shaped birthmark set high on his right cheek. "It means I'm special."
She smiled. "It looks like a kiss."
"Really?" Jesse asked.
Dale saw a look of contentment on Carol's face. Jesse's birthmark was something she'd never wanted their son to be shy or embarrassed about.
The waitress set out the rest of the plates. "I heard a mark like that means that right before you were born an angel kissed you."
Jesse turned to his mom. "Is that true?"
Carol smiled at her son and nodded. "I think she may be right."
April bent down and kissed Jesse on the top of his head. "I'm not an angel, but there's a kiss from me."
Dudley Simpson had been right; the food was excellent. After they ate, Dale got up to use the bathroom. "You need to go again, Jess?"
The boy shook his head. "No thanks."
Dale handed Carol a credit card. "Let's save our cash."
She nodded. "All right, baby."
"Back in a sec," he said as he turned away.
***
When he came out of the men's room, Carol and Jesse weren't at the table. The waitress had been quick. Most of the dirty plates were gone; the only ones left were his. Dale looked for his family near the front door, then up by the cash register, but they weren't there.
Maybe Jesse had changed his mind and Carol had brought him into the bathroom with her. So Dale waited, but after several minutes passed and they didn't come out, he decided to check outside. They might have gotten cold or Jesse could've gotten restless and they were waiting out front for him. But they weren't out front, either.
Across the street the lights were out at the gas station--Dudley was closed for the night. The Jeep Cherokee sat at the pumps. Anxiously, Dale looked at the hotel. Maybe...but they wouldn't do that, wouldn't have gone without him. That wasn't like Carol. Smart and independent, but she liked her husband doing the man things, and in her mind, checking into a hotel was a man thing.
Back inside he knocked on the door of the women's restroom. No one answered, so he cracked it open. "Carol?" No answer. "Carol, Jess, you there?"
"Can I help you, sir?" It was their waitress.
Embarrassed, Dale forced a laugh. "I seem to have lost my wife and son." He nodded toward the men's room. "While I was in there."
"Your wife and son?" She looked confused.
"When I came back they were gone."
She had a blank look on her face.
Annoyed, he said, "I ate with them."
The waitress furrowed her brow. "Sir, I didn't see you with anyone else."
Dale stared at her. For a second he thought that maybe he was wrong, maybe this wasn't his waitress. He checked her name tag, saw it said April. "You waited on us." Dale pointed to his right cheek. "My son has that little birthmark. You said an angel kissed him."
She shrugged. "I think I'd remember that."
He pointed to himself. "You remember me?" Then at their table. "We were sitting right there."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I remember you, but you ate by yourself." She turned to the table where Dale's dishes still sat. "I was just bringing you your bill."
He raised his voice. "Is this some kind of a joke?" People began looking at him.
April took a step back and raised her hands. "You need to talk to Mr. Simms."
"Who's Mr. Simms?"
"The owner."
"Well that's who I want to see."
Mr. Simms was already scurrying over. "What's the problem?"
Dale turned to him. "I can't find my family." He pointed at the girl. "She was our waitress and she's telling me she doesn't even remember them."
Mr. Simms looked at April.
She shrugged again. "I'm sorry but he was alone. I've never seen his family."
Simms looked like he didn't understand. April tried to explain it again, but Dale cut her off and pointed to the table. "My family and I ate right there. I went to the restroom, came out, and they were gone."
Mr. Simms clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. "Maybe they're outside waiting for you."
"I've checked outside," he barked. "They're not there."
Simms glanced at the waitress. "Why don't you get back to work. I'll handle this."
Dale grabbed her by the arm. "She knows where they are."
Everyone in the restaurant stared at him.
Mr. Simms jerked Dale's hand away from the girl. "Sir, she said she doesn't know where your family is."
April pleaded with her boss. "He didn't have his family with him."
"She's lying!" Dale said, as he inched closer to April.
Simms stepped between them. Looking at Dale, he said, "Have you checked your car?"
He nodded. "It's broken down at the gas station across the street. We've got to spend the night at the hotel."
Mr. Simms smiled. "That's probably it."
"What?"
"I bet they're at the hotel."
"He was by himself," April said.
The restaurant owner snapped his head towards her and pointed to the dinning area. "Go."
She looked at her boss for a second, a half-formed protest on her lips; then suddenly she spun on her heel and stomped away.
Simms looked back at Dale. "Have you checked the hotel?"
"They wouldn't do that."
"Have you checked?" Insistent.
Dale could feel himself losing control as the sweat dripped from his armpits. He took several deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down. "No, I haven't."
"Maybe your kids got tired."
The deep breathing had made him light-headed. "Just the one boy." As Dale turned toward the door, Simms patted him on the back. "I'm sure everything's going to be fine."
But things weren't fine. At the hotel, he woke up Mrs. Jensen. Turns out she and Mr. Jensen had an apartment behind the office. Dale had banged on the glass door of the office for five minutes before a light came on.
Mrs. Jensen had come out first. A white haired old lady, covered in a paper-thin pink housecoat, imprinted with blue flowers the size of a quarter. A minute later, Mr. Jensen, looking about seventy, dressed in a full set of dark green, silk pajamas and a pair of matching slippers, stumbled into the office, smelling like he'd taken a bath in Jack Daniel's.
Dale's heart sank. He went through the story anyway, but as he expected, the Jensens said that no one had checked in or even come by since mid-morning.
Walking back to the restaurant, he looked at his Jeep. Still empty and no one near it.
A marked police car was parked near the restaurant's front door. As he got closer, Dale read the decal on the side, BATESVILLE TOWN MARSHAL. Maybe now he could get some help.
Just inside, near the cash register, Dale found April the waitress, Mr. Simms, and a heavyset man in jeans and a T-shirt, talking. As he walked up, all three stopped and stared at him. He felt like a freak in a boardwalk exhibit.
"Did you find them?" Simms asked.
Dale shook his head. "The people at the hotel haven't seen them."
The big man in jeans took a step toward him. "Mr...?
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
The man stuck out his hand. "Jerry Stillwell. I'm town marshal."
"Saw your car outside." Dale shook the marshal's hand. "My wife and son are miss--"
"I understand there was a problem here earlier."
"Yeah there's a problem. My family disappeared."
The marshal and Simms traded glances; then he looked back at Dale. "So I heard. What do you think happened to them?"
Something didn't feel right. "If I knew that, they wouldn't be missing."
Marshal Stillwell stuck his belly out. "No reason to get smart. You all ready scared some customers. Don't make--"
"Scared some customers. Is that why you're here, because I scared some customers? My wife and son are MISSING!" Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and was watching the soap opera at the door. With a sharp edge to his voice, Dale said, "What are you going to do about it?"
The marshal jabbed a finger at him. "You better calm yourself down or I'll do it for you. Now I need to ask you some questions," his eyes swept the customers, "and I don't think this is the place to do it."
"I'm not going anywhere." Dale pointed to the completely cleaned off table where they'd eaten. "Half an hour ago my family and I ate right there. Now they're gone. Someone in here knows what happened to them."
The marshal dropped a big hand on Dale's shoulder and tried to guide him out the door. "We're going to find your family, but not here, not like--"
Dale pulled away. He pointed to Simms and the waitress. "They coming with us?"
"I don't see the need for--"
Dale reached out for April. "She's lying!"
With surprising speed, the town marshal slipped behind him and clamped a meaty forearm around his throat, sealing off his windpipe. Dale grabbed at the hairy arm and tried to twist it away as the marshal whispered in his ear, "Take it easy, son." Then something jabbed him in the kidney that sent waves of pain shooting up his back.
Seconds later, Dale was on the floor, his cheek pressed against the cool tiles, as the marshal handcuffed his wrists behind his back.
***
"She said it was the kiss of an angel, huh?" Marshal Stillwell asked. Things had calmed down some. Dale and the town marshal were alone in his office. Dale was still handcuffed, but the marshal had moved them to the front. He sat in a chair in front of the lawman's desk, watching him fill out forms with a ballpoint pen. Stillwell touched his finger to his right cheek. "That mark you're talking about is right here?"
Dale nodded.
"That's strange."
The handcuffs were uncomfortable. Dale twisted his wrists, trying to get some circulation back. "What's unusual about it?"
"We had a preacher in town few years back with the same kind of mark on his face." Stillwell traced a small circle on his cheek. "Heard him say once during a sermon it was from an angel's kiss."
Dale stared at the marshal, his flesh suddenly crawling with goosebumps.
"But he was a strange one. Lots of rumors. Guess it goes with the territory."
"What territory?"
"Young, good-looking preacher. Single. Moves into town, starts preaching all hours of the night." He gave Dale a knowing wink, like they were sharing a secret. "Giving special counseling sessions to half the women in town."
Grasping at straws, looking for anything. Dale said, "Is he still here?"
Marshal Stillwell shook his head. "Church burned down."
"What about the preacher?"
"We never found his body."
"He was the only one in the church?"
Stillwell looked down at the form on his desk and pressed his pen to it. "He had six or eight ladies in there with him. Supposed to be some sort of social club. Fire was so hot, we couldn't tell one body from the next. That was when the rumors really started."
Dale flexed his fingers. His hands hurt. "What kind of rumors?"
The marshal laughed. "Just gossip. People 'round here are simple minded, superstitious, that's all."
"What kind of gossip?"
Stillwell looked up. "Not everybody you understand, but some people have been talking about how the preacher isn't really dead, about how he's gonna come back some day."
Dale needed to get out, to find Carol and Jesse. There was something terribly wrong here. "Am I under arrest?"
Stillwell nodded.
In the corner stood a single holding cell, the door gaping open, waiting. "What's the charge?"
The marshal jerked a thumb in the general direction of the restaurant. "Disturbing the peace."
"What about my family?"
The man tapped the pile of forms in front of him. "I'll forward these missing persons reports to the state police in the morning; then I'll call the judge and try to get a bond set for you."
Dale sprung to his feet. "I've got to find my family tonight!"
Marshal Stillwell eased out of his chair and stood up. "Just calm down. Soon as I get this information to them, the state troopers will be on the lookout." He jerked his thumb toward the south. "Their office is just five miles down the road."
Dale nodded at the phone on the desk. "Call them now."
The marshal shook his head. "Can't do that."
"Why not."
"I got procedures to follow."
Dale Thornton squatted and shoved the desk into Stillwell. The marshal's chair rolled back on its casters but snagged on something and tipped over, spilling Marshal Stillwell onto the floor. Dale scrambled over the desk, knocking papers, pens, and a near full cup of coffee on top of the lawman, then dropped a knee into the man's big belly. The marshal curled into a ball and moaned.
Stillwell didn't have a gun on him, at least not one Dale could find. The way he was dressed it looked like he had been called out from home. Maybe he forgot his gun, or maybe he just didn't carry one. Dale grabbed a handful of shirt and dragged the marshal into the open holding cell, then kicked the door shut. It locked automatically.
By the time Stillwell staggered to his feet Dale was searching his desk. The marshal tried to rip the steel bars apart with his bare hands. "Let me out of here, you crazy bastard!"
Dale ignored him. In the bottom right hand drawer he found a gun, a .38 caliber, five-shot Smith and Wesson. Stillwell started shouting for help. Dale leveled the gun at him. "Shut up."
Stillwell quit yelling.
Dale kept searching.
A few seconds later, the marshal said, "You'll never get away with this."
Holding his wrists up, Dale rattled the handcuffs. "Keys?"
The cop pointed to the desk. "Bottom left."
After he got the handcuffs off, Dale finished going through the desk, then did a quick search of a filing cabinet that was set against the wall. There he found keys to the holding cell and a roll of duct tape.
As Dale approached the cell, Marshal Stillwell backed against the far wall. "What are you gonna do?"
Aiming the revolver at Stillwell's belly, Dale ordered him to lie on the floor. A few minutes later he relocked the cell door, leaving the marshal with his hands cuffed behind his back and a strip of silver duct tape wrapped around his head that sealed his mouth shut. On his way out of the marshal's office, Dale tossed the revolver back into the desk drawer and kicked it shut. That was trouble he didn't need.
The state police. "Their office is just five miles down the road," the marshal had said.
Darkness had settled over the Batesville. How long had he been in the marshal's office? Everything in town was closed and locked up tight. There wasn't a light to be seen, and not a soul on the street. He didn't see any payphones.
He had to get out of town. Which way had the marshal pointed when he mentioned the state police? Thinking about it, Dale decided it had to be south. They'd driven in from the north and he was sure they hadn't passed a state police troop.
The night had turned cold. If he was going to walk for five miles he needed a jacket.
It took just a few minutes to make it to the gas station. His Jeep was right where he'd left it, but when he reached into his pocket for the keys they weren't there. An image flashed through his mind. A close up shot just like in a movie. His hand reaching toward Dudley Simpson's, and in his hand, his keys.
Damn!
He looked into the rear window, saw their luggage lying in the back. Dale thought about breaking the window and getting a jacket, maybe his gun, too. Not the gun. He was in enough trouble all ready for what he'd done to the town marshal. Assault, kidnapping--maybe not kidnapping, he hadn't taken him anywhere, just locked him in his own cell--but something like kidnapping. Desperation had driven him to it. That's the only reason he had done it. Because he had to find Carol and Jesse.
He could make it without a jacket.
Old Highway 167 south. Dale Thornton started walking. Ten minutes later he saw headlights behind him, coming from town. He crouched in the bushes beside the highway, but the beat-up pickup glided to a stop next to him. An old man sat behind the wheel, alone in the truck. "You need a ride?"
Feeling like a complete fool, Dale stood. "Yeah, I guess."
"Where you headed?"
"You know where the state police office is?"
The old man nodded, then jerked his head toward the passenger side. "Hop in."
As he climbed into the pickup truck, Dale shot a glance at the old man. Probably at least seventy, with long ghost white hair and a bushy mustache, wearing a stained undershirt and a pair of denim overalls. Dale scanned the dashboard for a clock but didn't see one. "What time is it?"
The old man shrugged. "Haven't worn a watch in thirty years. Do things as quick as I can. A timepiece strapped to my wrist ain't gonna make me move any faster."
The drive was torture. Never did the old man go over thirty-five miles an hour. Only good thing was that he didn't ask any questions. Just dropped Dale off in the parking lot of the state police troop. As he walked through the door into the police station, Dale glanced over his shoulder and saw the old man's pickup rumbling down the highway.
Inside, sitting behind a chest high counter, was a uniformed trooper, sergeant stripes on his sleeves. Mid-40's, with an iron gray crew cut. "Can I help you, sir?" the sergeant said.
Dale spat out the story as fast as he could, leaving out the part about how he'd handcuffed the town marshal and left him gagged in his own jail cell.
The sergeant's face had remained inscrutable while Dale talked. "What was the name of that town again, sir?"
"Batesville."
The sergeant wheeled his chair over to a map hanging on the wall. "And where'd you say it was?"
The state cop demonstrated the same bureaucrat mentality as the town marshal. Any minute now he'd break out a sheaf of forms and start filling them out. Dale pointed north. "Five miles that way."
"What'd you say your name was again?" The sergeant glided the chair back over to his work area and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
As soon as the sergeant finished jotting Dale's name on a pad, he looked up. "There's no town named Batesville."
"I was just there!"
The sergeant stood up. "Take it easy, sir. I'm sure you just got the name mixed up."
Just like in the restaurant.
"...get to the bottom of it." The desk sergeant was still talking, but Dale hadn't heard everything. He felt dizzy. Was everyone around here crazy? "We ate dinner there," he mumbled. "I left my car at the gas station. Dudley Simpson's gas station."
The sergeant nodded as he walked around the counter. A big man, at least six feet, with the beefy build of a weightlifter. "I know Simpson's place. Old 167 and Highway 90. But there's no town there, just the gas station."
"The gas station's smack in the middle of the town. There's a restaurant, a general store, and a hotel, too."
The sergeant closed on him, his body bladed, his gun side away from Dale. "I need you to put your hands on the counter, sir."
"What?"
With his right hand resting on his holstered pistol, the state trooper took hold of Dale's wrist with his left hand and pushed it to the top of the counter. Dale's other hand followed. The sergeant said, "Pull you feet back."
"What are you doing?"
"You have any weapons on you?"
"No! Of course not." Glad he'd left the marshal's gun, glad he hadn't gotten his own out of the Jeep.
"I'm just gonna pat you down."
"Why?" Dale said. "I haven't done anything. My family's missing?"
The sergeant slid his hands over Dale's waist and the outside of his pockets. "It's for safety, sir."
"Whose?"
"Yours and mine," the trooper sergeant said as he stepped backward a few feet.
"Something's happened to my wife and son. I came here for help."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know," Dale said. "That's why I need your help."
"Mr. Thornton, I've worked this area for nineteen years. There is no town called Batesville."
"I don't care what you call it, but there's a town five miles away and we need to go there right now."
"Closest town is twelve miles from here and it's south."
The gas station. At least the sergeant knew about the gas station. Dale looked over his shoulder at the big cop. "Can I stand up?" After getting a nod, Dale pushed away from the counter and stood straight. Arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. "Look sergeant, maybe I seem a bit confused, but I know my wife and 6-year-old son are missing. Our car broke down at Simpson's gas station. Can you drive me there and help me look for them?"
The sergeant took his hand off his pistol and relaxed a little. "How'd you get here?"
"An old man in a pickup gave me a ride."
"You get his name?"
Dale's mouth opened but nothing came out as he realized he couldn't remember a thing about the old man or his truck. No details at all.
"What's the matter?"
Dale shook his head. "He...he just gave me a ride. I didn't get his name."
The trooper sergeant held up his hand. "Stay right here. Soon as I get someone to cover the desk, I'll give you a ride back to Simpson's."
Ten minutes later Dale climbed into the passenger seat of the state police car. The sergeant looked over at him. "Put your seatbelt on." Dale strapped himself in but noticed the sergeant didn't.
On the highway the trooper asked him to go over the story again. As Dale repeated what had happened, the sergeant asked several questions about Simpson's: what time of day, what was wrong with the car, who had the keys; but he asked nothing about what happened in the restaurant. The restaurant that wasn't there, according to the sergeant.
A few minutes later the police cruiser's headlights lit up the darkened gas station and Dale's Jeep parked at the pumps.
There was nothing else--absolutely nothing else.
The sergeant slowed down as he turned into the parking lot. "That your Cherokee?"
Stunned, Dale couldn't answer. Staring out the window, struck dumb by what he saw, or didn't see. No restaurant, no hotel, no Batesville General Store--no town. Just empty farmland and a few trees surrounding the gas station.
The trooper pulled his car up behind the Jeep, leaving a car-length gap between the two of them. "Stay here," he said as he pulled a flashlight from a charger mounted to the dash.
Dale leaned his head against the window and watched the sergeant creep up to the driver's door of his Jeep Cherokee, flashlight held out in front of him, his other hand on the butt of his pistol. The state cop opened the door--the locked door--and poked his head inside the passenger compartment of Dale's Jeep. The trooper backed out and held up his hand, Dale's keys dangling from his fingers. "Keys were inside," he shouted.
With legs quivering, Dale stepped out of the police car. He couldn't understand this. The Jeep had been locked, Dudley Simpson had the keys. He stumbled toward the trooper.
The sergeant shined his flashlight into the back, into the cargo compartment. Suddenly, his face turned to stone. He dropped the keys, drew his gun, aimed both it and his flashlight at Dale. "Don't move!"
Dale stopped dead. What the hell was...
"Get on the ground!"
Not comprehending, Dale just stood there.
The trooper screamed at him, "Get on the fucking ground--now."
Dale Thornton dropped face down onto the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sergeant side-stepping around him until he was behind Dale and to his left.
The trooper said, "Turn your head to the right."
Dale did as he was told. Then the sergeant closed in and cuffed his hands behind his back. Just the second time in his life Dale had been handcuffed, both on the same night.
After backing up a few steps, the sergeant keyed the radio clipped to his belt and called the state police troop. When the dispatcher answered, the sergeant said, "I need back up units," Dale heard him take a deep breath, "and notify the corner."
The tinny voice from the radio said, "What you got, sergeant?"
"Homicide," the trooper answered. "Suspect is in custody."
Homicide?
The sergeant hooked Dale's elbows and jerked him to his feet, then picked up the keys and opened the tailgate of the Jeep.
Lying in the back, in the cargo space, arms and legs twisted into a torturous configuration, was the naked body of his wife, Carol. At the back of her head, her golden hair was tangled and caked with dried blood. Her face chalk white, her forehead blown out where the bullet had exited. On the carpet next to her was a .357 revolver--Dale's .357 revolver.
She was alone.
"Jesse!" Dale screamed at the dark and empty fields.
***
In 1885 the town of Batesville, Louisiana burned to the ground. Scores of people were killed in the predawn fire that swept through the town. Among those reported killed in the blaze was the town's only minister, but many bodies were so badly burned that positive identification was impossible.
The fire started in the Batesville church and was allegedly set by a preacher from a nearby town. The preacher, a God-fearing and righteous man, was said to have been outraged at the evil deeds going on in Batesville, which he had called a modern-day Sodom.
The town of Batesville was never rebuilt.
THE END
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2023.05.31 14:10 red_magnificent [Acne] If you're acne-prone and wear glasses & sunglasses, this is your reminder to SANITISE THEM!

Just doing god's work and sharing this as it was a revelation to me. It makes perfect sense but it's so easy to forget to regularly sanitise your glasses! Especially when you wear them all the time and sort of forget about them.
I changed my frames a couple of months ago, going from a super thin wire frame that didn't touch my skin anywhere on the face (except the tiny pads on the sides of my nose), to a thicker plastic frame that actually sits across my nose bridge now... To my surprise I started getting pimples on top of my nose bridge and between my eyebrows waaay more often! They also slip a little bit, so I need to touch and push them back up my nose multiple times a day....
Now I always carry some sanitising spray with me and try to sanitise my glasses as often as possible, and I also try to only push them back on the sides of the frame, not between the eyes. I found this to be helpful.
submitted by red_magnificent to SkincareAddiction [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 13:24 24hrjunkteam1 What is the importance of recycle, reduce, reuse, recover, and repair in waste management?

The principles of "recycle, reduce, reuse, recover, and repair" play a crucial role in waste management and have significant importance in promoting sustainability and minimizing environmental impact. Here's an overview of their importance:
1️⃣ Recycle: Recycling involves processing waste materials into new products, reducing the need for extracting raw materials. By recycling items like paper, plastic, glass, and metal, we conserve resources, reduce energy consumption, and minimize landfill waste. It helps create a circular economy, where materials are reused and repurposed.
2️⃣ Reduce: Reducing waste at its source is vital. By consuming less, making conscious choices about what we buy, and minimizing packaging, we can prevent waste generation. Reduction reduces the strain on natural resources, saves energy, and reduces pollution associated with production, transportation, and disposal of goods.
3️⃣ Reuse: Reusing items extends their lifespan, minimizing the need for new products. By repairing, refurbishing, or repurposing items, we reduce waste and conserve resources. Reusing also promotes a more sustainable and circular economy by keeping items in circulation instead of discarding them prematurely.
4️⃣ Recover: Waste recovery involves extracting energy or materials from waste through processes like incineration or anaerobic digestion. While not all waste is suitable for recovery, it can help generate energy or create useful byproducts, reducing reliance on fossil fuels and reducing waste sent to landfills.
5️⃣ Repair: Repairing items instead of discarding them promotes resource conservation and reduces waste. Repairing electronics, appliances, or clothing, for example, extends their lifespan, reduces the need for new purchases, and minimizes waste generation. Repairing also saves money for individuals and businesses.
Embracing these principles in waste management helps conserve resources, reduce pollution, mitigate climate change, and protect ecosystems. They foster a sustainable mindset, encouraging individuals, businesses, and communities to be more mindful of their consumption and waste generation patterns. Adopting these practices collectively contributes to building a more environmentally conscious and resilient future. 🌱♻️ #WasteManagement #Sustainability #CircularEconomy
submitted by 24hrjunkteam1 to junkremovalca [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 13:12 thegeneralg My strangest experience while working at a jewelry store

I’ve worked in a jewelry store for several years, and it’s a pretty routine job. One of the best parts of the job is when you work with a customer who is celebrating something, and you get to be part of their excitement and happiness. That’s a big part of the experience of buying jewelry. Someone isn’t just buying a ring or a watch, they are commemorating a moment, and the jewelry is simply a tangible symbol of that. And sometimes those tangible reminders of timeless moments need to be repaired for one reason or another. That was what started my strangest experience on the job.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when the first customer came in. An older gentleman wearing a flawlessly tailored three-piece suit, he had slicked back grey hair and eyes that seemed to study everything they encountered.
“Hello, how may I assist you?” I asked him with a friendly nod when he approached me while I was at the counter.
“Yes, I’d like to have my watch repaired.”
“Of course. What is the issue?”
“The clasp isn’t working.” He took the watch out of his suit pocket and placed it on the counter. It was an expensive gold wristwatch with a small diamond in the center. To demonstrate, he tried to fasten it shut and it wouldn’t.
“I see. We can certainly fix that.”
Then I launched into our rates and prices, which he agreed to. Once he’d signed all the paperwork, his watch was taken to the back where it was properly cataloged and stored away until one of our professionals would fix the clasp. Once that was done, I went back to work and that was it.
I didn’t see the gentleman in the suit until a week later, and the watch was ready to be picked up. He came dressed in a different, but equally expensive suit. Then he gave his name, and I hustled to the back to pick up his now fixed watch.
Once he signed the paperwork confirming he’d picked up his order and paid the bill, he took the watch, placed it on his wrist, and closed the clasp, where it shut with a satisfying click. The gesture made him smile.
“Good job Michael,” he said to me.
“Thank you. Our staff are the best.”
“I know, that’s why I’ve always come here. There’s no chance I would go anywhere else for this. It means the world to me. I had a nasty spill at home, and the clasp was probably broken in the fall.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“That’s very kind of you. But I was fine. Lucky too. But anyhow, you have a wonderful day.”
“You do the same.” I smiled as he turned around and left the store.
I didn’t think anything more about him until about two weeks later when I saw on the news, he had been in a car accident close to where he lived. He was unharmed, but his car was completely totaled. No one would be able to fix that.
Since I was about to leave for work when I saw that, I shut off the TV and headed out. My day at work was uneventful until the end when a young woman in her late 20s walked into the store. By that time of day it was quiet, and she was the only customer. She was casually dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and she looked like she felt a little out of place in the store.
“Hello, how may I assist you?” I asked as I gave her my most welcoming smile.
“Hi,” she smiled in return as she hesitantly walked to the counter. “I’d like to get a bracelet repaired.”
“Of course. And what bracelet would we be working on?”
“This one.” She reached in her sweatshirt pocket and took out a black velvet box. She opened it, took out the bracelet inside, and placed it gently on the counter. It was a beautiful gold bracelet dotted with sapphires. Right in the middle, there was an empty space where a sapphire should have been.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She nodded solemnly. “And here’s the sapphire that fell out.”
She reached into her pocket and took out a small plastic bag. The missing sapphire was inside.
“Very good.” I took the bag in hand, set it on the counter, and got to work with the paperwork. Once she had her pickup time in hand, she left the store, and I went to put both the bracelet and the bag with the sapphire away. I had just put both away when I got a very odd feeling. The best thing I can describe it as is unease. But I shrugged it off, reminding myself that the customer was obviously going through something. It happens a lot, as jewelry can be inherited for sad reasons, or just bring a lot of emotions to the surface. So I finished logging the order and returned to the counter.
I was there a week later when she returned for her repaired bracelet. This time she seemed slightly more at ease, and when she saw the repaired bracelet, her eyes lit up.
“Thank you so much,” she said with a wide smile. “I feel so much better now that it’s back to normal.”
“That’s terrific. That’s what we’re here for.”
“This bracelet means the world to me, so I was beyond upset to see it get damaged.”
“Completely understandable.”
“It was a gift from my husband. For our wedding anniversary. We took a vacation together and it was a disaster. Our luggage got stolen and it was downhill from there.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry for rambling in the middle of your store.”
“No, it’s ok. That’s what we’re here for. Jewelry tells a story, and no two pieces tell the same story.”
“That makes a lot of sense.” She nodded. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Of course. Have a great day.”
“You too.”
She turned away from the counter and walked back outside. Then I went on with the rest of my day.
The rest of the month went by without anything noteworthy until one day, a woman with long grey hair came in towards the middle of my shift. She was dressed in a black business suit, wore glasses over intelligent green eyes, and carried a small black purse.
“Hello, how may I assist you?”
“Good afternoon, I was hoping to get a locket engraved.”
“We can certainly do that. Which locket would we be engraving?”
“This one.” She reached into her purse and took out an elegant gold locket, which she carefully placed on the counter.
“And what are we engraving on it?”
“For Marissa.”
I wrote that carefully on the order.
“And where do you want that?”
“Inside the locket.”
“And what script would you like?” I asked before I presented her with a list of the various options she could go with.
She studied it for a moment before she pointed to an option halfway down the list.
“That one.”
“Good choice.” I nodded approvingly before I wrote that into the order as well. “Is there anything else you would like to incorporate? Or that we should know before we file this order?”
“No, that’s it. It’s for my niece. She’s getting married.”
“Congratulations to her.”
“Thank you. We’ve always been very close, so I’m very happy for her.”
“That’s great.”
Then she finished signing the paperwork, and once she was able to leave the store, I filed away the order and the locket for our experts. The rest of the day passed by, until I was left to close the place up. I went through the end of shift routine, closed up, and headed to my car. As I was walking towards it, I suddenly got the feeling I was being watched. So I immediately looked around to check the area.
Nobody was watching me, and there was nothing going on. Still, I carefully walked to my car, got inside, and quickly left once I had locked the doors. I immediately felt better as I drove away.
I didn’t see the woman with the locket again, but she picked up her order, and my boss told me she was thrilled with it. I wasn’t surprised I wasn’t there, because I was on vacation that week. I’d long been looking forward to seeing my best friend Craig’s new cabin out in the woods, so the first chance I got, I’d made plans with him to go see it.
It didn’t disappoint. It was like something out of a painting with its log structure and stone fireplace. And it had all the modern conveniences you could want, and plenty of room for guests. Craig’s parents and his sister Christina were also going to be there, so I was looking forward to seeing them as well.
“There he is.” Craig greeted me with a grin before he and his whole family took turns hugging me and saying it had been too long. Then I took my bags inside, got settled in my room, and we had some dinner. Then we all headed out to the backyard, where Craig and his dad built a fire that we all sat around for hours. After we all had our fill of s’mores and it had gotten late, we all went inside, said goodnight, and headed to our respective rooms. I was tired from the long drive out of the city, so I fell asleep quickly.
It felt like moments later when I was shaken awake by Craig.
“Mike, wake up.”
“Huh?” I mumbled out.
“Wake up,” he whispered intently.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s someone outside.”
That woke me up immediately.
“Someone outside?”
He nodded. “And we think there’s more than one. You weren’t followed here, were you?”
“No,” I said quietly.
I quietly got out of bed and crouched by Craig on the floor. My heart was thudding loudly in my chest, and I had no idea what to do. Not only was I in an unfamiliar area, I was in a house I had never been in before. But I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.
“Did you call the police?” I asked after what felt like an eternity.
“Yeah. They said they’d be out here as soon as they could, but out here, who knows what that means. At least we have an alarm system. And you know my dad.”
I did. Craig’s dad was the kind of guy you wanted to have with you in a situation like this. That was the one thing that kept me at least relatively calm, aside from the fact I wasn’t alone.
“Did he send you in here?”
Craig nodded. “Told me to stay here until he told me otherwise.”
Time seemed to stop as the two of us sat there, silently watching each other while I tried my best to ignore the fear creeping in the back of my mind.
It seemed like we’d been sitting there for hours when suddenly, there was a loud crash from downstairs that was immediately followed by the sound of an alarm screaming to life. Then came several loud bangs in rapid succession that were followed by the much quieter sound of footsteps fleeing from the cabin. Then, I heard Craig’s dad yelling at whoever was running away. I couldn’t quite make out what he said, but I didn’t blame whoever had been fleeing.
Craig and I had bolted upright at the commotion, but we stayed inside as Craig’s dad had said. Moments later, the alarm was shut off and there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Come on out guys,” Craig’s dad instructed us.
He didn’t need to tell us twice. We immediately bolted out of my room while Craig’s mom came out of Christina’s room, where the two of them had been during this time.
“Everything’s fine. They’re gone,” Craig’s dad said before he walked back to the living room where he’d been keeping watch with his gun.
We all quietly sat there until the police arrived and took statements about what had happened. They agreed to put a car outside the cabin for the night and keep watch on the area. By the time they left, I felt exhausted. So I fell asleep even quicker than before. Fortunately, no one interrupted my sleep this time, and I woke up late the next morning.
Craig’s mom made pancakes for breakfast, and since we were all starving, we were happy to dig in.
Once we all had our fill and were sipping coffee, the conversation drifted to other matters. At some point, I noticed Christina was wearing a necklace I hadn’t noticed before. It was a simple, but elegant gold hoop on a chain.
“Nice necklace Christina,” I said before I took another sip of coffee.
“Oh thanks. It was a birthday gift from Aunt Helen.”
“Nice.”
“She didn’t get it from your store, but it’s still nice.”
I chuckled. “No doubt.”
Then Craig’s dad, who had been reading the morning paper, turned the page. As he did, I saw the front page and saw there was a headline about some company declaring bankruptcy. The company didn’t sound familiar to me at all, but there was a photo of the family that owned it. In the middle of the photo was the woman who had come in to get the locket engraved.
My stomach sank and the pancakes I’d just eaten now felt uncomfortably heavy. Craig must’ve sensed something because he immediately asked, “Mike? What’s wrong?”
I managed to explain the story of the customers who’d recently come into the store and the unfortunate incidents that seemed to have happened to them. Craig and his family quietly listened to the story until I finished, then added that nothing like last night had happened to them before. Once we all got back to the city, Christina gave me the paperwork her Aunt Helen had given her with the necklace, and I did a little research. Since jewelry stores keep tons of information on file, it didn’t take me long to find out the scoop on Christina’s necklace.
The gold in it had come from a local mine in California. It had been doing quite well until one day there was a cave in, and a ton of workers died in the accident. The mine was eventually shut down, but not until all the gold that could be retrieved was gotten. And I didn’t need to look up the mine to know rumor was the place was considered cursed or haunted by locals. I’d been to the area years ago on a vacation, and the place had given me the creeps. But even I got chills when I looked later through the store’s records and saw documents that the man in the suit and the other two customers had all brought in items containing gold mined from the area.
Christina wasted no time in trading in her necklace for a ring made of silver. When she did, I got a text from her that had a picture of the ring next to a joke about hoping it was her own personal silver bullet to ward off monsters. It made me laugh.
submitted by thegeneralg to nosleep [link] [comments]


2023.05.31 12:45 Starindia05 Best module box manufacturer in india

It is sometimes referred to as a modular switch box. It often provides a secure and organized solution for electrical wiring in residential, commercial, and industrial applications. As the leading module box wholesaler in India, Star India Electricals is renowned for its premium goods and cutting-edge creations. In order to satisfy varied electrical installation requirements, they provide a large variety of modular boxes in varying sizes, forms, and configurations. Their module box ensures long-lasting performance and protection for electrical components by being composed of sturdy materials like premium plastic and metal.
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2023.05.31 12:01 TheRoyalOrca I't not too sure what I'm doing wrong. Terrarium feels moist but not wet, yet the bottom leaves are brown, wilted and slightly wet feeling.

I't not too sure what I'm doing wrong. Terrarium feels moist but not wet, yet the bottom leaves are brown, wilted and slightly wet feeling.
This is my second terrarium I've built and the first one died in a similar way, so I am trying to avoid that mistake again, the leaves turned brown and died. The plants seem healthy until you look at the base, where they are dark brown and shrivelled, but feel damp. I have sprayed it with a spray bottle maybe 3-4 times and I did about 6-10 sprays each time since I made it (about a month ago). I cut a bunch of the shrivelled leaves out, so there were even more than in the pictures. It's typically closed fully with plastic wrap and a rubber band, but I open it about once a week for a few hours. I have a south facing window (southern hemisphere) meaning it doesnt get much light. But I have a desk lamp which sits above it which I have on most nights, this might be too strong for it though as some of the top leaves look a little crispy. Also, in the morning theres condensation on the glass but thats usually gone by the night. As for scale its a 12L tank, the rocks and charcoal are about 4cm and the soil mix is about 6cm at the front and 10cm at the back. Soil mix is 2/3rds indoor potting mix with pearlite and 1/3rd peat moss. I don't really know the names of most of the plants because they just said "Terrarium plant" not an actual name. I might be forgetting some information so I am happy to answer more questions.
Above View
Front View
Brown leaves at base of plant in front left
Brown leaves at base of plant at back left
Brown leaves at base of plant at back middle
Brown leaves at base of plant at back middle
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2023.05.31 11:51 prodshebi I uncovered the terrifying secrets of Chernobyl: the truth will haunt you

My name is Adrian, an investigative journalist from Poland driven by a thirst for uncovering hidden truths. Chernobyl held a profound significance for me, not only as a haunting scar on history but also due to a personal connection. My grandparents had been affected by the disaster, forced to abandon their home and lives. Inspired by their resilience, I embarked on this journey to capture their stories and unravel the mysteries that shrouded Chernobyl. Filled with trepidation and excitement, I packed my gear, ready to confront the demons lurking within its irradiated walls. Little did I know that this expedition would push me into a sinister web of conspiracy, blurring the lines between reality and nightmare, forever changing the course of my life.
We were a group of intrepid travelers, united by a shared curiosity and a thirst for the unknown. The journey ahead would take us deep into the heart of the Chernobyl exclusion zone, a place shrouded in mystery and haunted by the ghosts of the past.
Our guide, Igor, regaled us with tales of the ill-fated Chernobyl disaster. His voice, tinged with a mix of reverence and melancholy, painted vivid pictures of a once-vibrant city reduced to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. As we approached the border of the exclusion zone, the landscape began to transform. The lush, green countryside gave way to desolation and decay, a stark reminder of the cataclysmic event that had unfolded here decades ago.
As we drove deeper into the heart of the exclusion zone, a palpable sense of unease settled over the van. The silence that permeated the air seemed to amplify the weight of the past, the residual energy of lives disrupted and dreams shattered. Through the windows, we caught glimpses of abandoned buildings, their crumbling facades standing as a testament to the transience of human existence.

It was amidst the eerie silence of Pripyat that my fascination with the strange and unexplained lured me away from the safety of the group. A stray cat, with its radiant blue eyes and matted fur, darted playfully through the remnants of the city, drawing me deeper into the labyrinth of abandoned streets. The curious creature seemed almost otherworldly, an enigmatic guide leading me toward an unseen destiny.
As I ventured further into the forgotten alleys of Pripyat, the echoes of my companions faded into oblivion. The weight of solitude settled upon my shoulders, both thrilling and unnerving in its intensity. It was as if I had crossed an invisible threshold, stepping into a realm where time and reality intertwined, where the boundaries between the living and the departed became blurred.
In my solitary exploration, I stumbled upon a hidden path concealed beneath a tangle of ivy and overgrown shrubbery. It beckoned to me, an invitation to uncover secrets long buried in the annals of history. My curiosity overpowered any trepidation, propelling me forward, further into the heart of the enigma.

The hidden path led me to a dilapidated building, its weathered facade standing defiantly against the ravages of time. The faded sign, barely visible amidst the peeling paint, identified it as "Laboratory 23." The air crackled with an aura of mystery as I hesitated at the threshold, my heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and excitement.
Stepping into the forsaken laboratory, I found myself in a time capsule frozen in a perpetual state of abandonment. Broken glass and discarded equipment littered the floor, remnants of a hasty retreat. The air carried the scent of rust and decay, a haunting perfume that hung heavy in the atmosphere.
Amidst the wreckage, my eyes fell upon a collection of documents scattered across a table. Their faded pages held cryptic symbols, enigmatic diagrams that seemed to dance with arcane knowledge. As I traced the lines with my trembling fingers, a sense of foreboding washed over me. It was as if these documents were a portal into a realm of forbidden knowledge, a Pandora's box that held the darkest of secrets.
Driven by an insatiable thirst for truth, I delved deeper into the lab's forgotten chambers. Within the dimly lit recesses, I discovered a hidden room, concealed behind a heavy, rusted door. The moment it creaked open, I knew I had unearthed something unimaginable.
The room was lined with shelves, each holding a multitude of binders meticulously labeled with names. As I perused the contents of the binders, a wave of disbelief washed over me. Each name was accompanied by a photograph, a face frozen in time. But it was not the faces themselves that sent a chill down my spine. It was the realization that these were the faces of missing individuals, those who had vanished without a trace from society.
One binder in particular caught my attention. It bore the chilling label "clones." Opening it, I discovered an unsettling truth: the missing individuals had been cloned, their lives replicated in secrecy within the confines of this clandestine laboratory. The implications of such a revelation were staggering, a betrayal of humanity that defied comprehension.

The weight of the evidence I had collected threatened to crush my spirit. The room, suffused with an oppressive aura, seemed to tighten its grip around me. With the damning photographs and documents securely tucked away in my bag, I turned to leave, determined to escape the clutches of this nightmare. But as I moved toward the exit, a peculiar sensation prickled the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. It was as if the air itself carried an ominous whisper, a ghostly echo of footsteps echoing through the desolate laboratory.
Fear seized me, freezing me in place. The realization dawned upon me like a chilling gust of wind—I was not alone in this forsaken place. Someone or something else lurked within the shadows, drawing nearer with each passing moment. The excitement of discovery mingled with a growing sense of dread, creating a disorienting cocktail of emotions.
In that harrowing instant, instinct took hold, overriding rational thought. Without a moment's hesitation, I pivoted on my heels and bolted towards the exit, my heart pounding in my chest. Panic fueled my every step as I navigated through the dimly lit corridors, the clamor of my own breath and the echoing footfalls of my pursuer serving as a macabre soundtrack to my escape.
Every shadow seemed to shift, morphing into a sinister figure poised to snatch me back into the clutches of the unknown. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me forward, my only goal to break free from this labyrinth of horrors. The very air seemed to thicken, as if resisting my frantic escape, but sheer determination fueled my desperate flight.
Finally, I burst through the door, gasping for breath, my pulse thundering in my ears. The world outside the laboratory, though still cloaked in an eerie silence, felt like salvation. I sprinted through the desolate halls, never looking back, each step propelling me farther from the unseen terror that had pursued me.
It was only when I reached the relative safety of the open air, the sun casting long shadows across the abandoned landscape, that I allowed myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I leaned against a crumbling wall, trying to steady my racing heart. The weight of the encounter pressed upon me, a reminder that the horrors lurking in the unknown were far more menacing than I could have ever imagined.
I knew, deep down, that the discovery I had made in that foreboding laboratory had unleashed something far greater than I had anticipated. It was a truth that demanded to be revealed, but it also posed a danger that threatened to consume me. With trembling hands, I clutched the bag containing the evidence—the only tangible proof of the conspiracy I had encountered. With a renewed determination, I vowed to bring the truth to light, no matter the personal cost. The echoes of footsteps and the ghostly whispers would forever haunt my memory, driving me forward into the heart of darkness, prepared to confront the unimaginable horrors that lay ahead.

Part I
Part II (unpublished yet)
Part III (unpublished yet)
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2023.05.31 11:35 richi-carmen New kind organic fertilizer pellet making equipment

New kind organic fertilizer pellet making equipment
Organic fertilizer pellet making machine is an upgraded technology item developed after years of substance fertilizer handling tools style as well as production experience. It is made use of to granulate various natural compounds after fermentation, which breaks through the traditional natural granulation process.
Prior to granulation, the raw products do not require to be dried as well as grated, and also round particles can be processed directly with active ingredients, which can save a great deal of power.
The angle of the granulating disc adopts an total arc structure, and the granulation price can get to more than 93%. The natural fertilizer pellet making device powdering disc is furnished with three discharge ports, which is convenient for recurring manufacturing procedures, substantially decreasing labor strength and boosting labor effectiveness.

https://preview.redd.it/z6mcwqifh63b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=23c5c7444728ae2f0fa9f0e120ed4ce4c0255e58
Reducer and also motor embracing flexible belt drive, secure beginning, decreasing the influence pressure, and also enhancing the life span of the equipment. The bottom of the granulation plate is enhanced with a variety of radiant steel plates, which is sturdy and also resilient, and can be deformed.
Thickened, much heavier, as well as sturdy base style does not call for support bolts to fix, running smoothly. The primary equipment of the organic plant food pellet making device is satiated by high frequency, and also the life span is increased.
The natural fertilizer pellet making device disc is lined with high-strength glass fiber enhanced plastic, which is anti-corrosion and sturdy. The equipment has consistent granulation, high granulation rate, stable operation and also solid tools. Sturdy, long life span and other characteristics, is the excellent equipment for most of users to choose.
Related post: fertilizer pelletizer machine
1. Functions of the brand-new natural fertilizer equipment:
The pellets created are round. The round development price is 70%, there is a small amount of returned material, the particle dimension of the returned product is small, and it can be re-granulated.
Organic material can be as high as 100,000, and pure natural granulation can be recognized. The pressure roller is adopted, and also both ends go to the exact same speed as the internal and also outer rings of the die plate. There is no dislocation rubbing in between the wheel and the die, which lowers the resistance, decreases the kinetic energy loss, prolongs the service life of the die, as well as decreases the natural fertilizer pellet mill production expense.
Using the feature that natural bits can decorate as well as grow with each other under a specific pressure, no binder is required throughout granulation. It is lined with rubber engineering plastics, and the raw products are challenging to stick to the cylinder, as well as play a role in anti-corrosion as well as warmth preservation.
The granules are firm and also can be sieved after granulation, reducing drying out power intake. The multifunctional level movie organic plant food pellet making machine ( can generate pellet feed, organic plant food, and cylindrical pellets. It can also be attached to polishing devices, so that cylindrical pellets can be rolled into balls at one time, without returning pellets, with high pelletizing rate, great strength as well as lovely appearance. The natural fertilizer pellet making equipment ( is an excellent devices for the manufacturing of natural fertilizers today.
The raw material after fermentation does not need to be dried, and also the dampness web content of the raw material can be 20-40%. The vapor heating is introduced to raise the temperature of the product, to make sure that the wetness web content of the material is low after the material is created into a sphere, and also the drying effectiveness is improved. The result is big, the power usage is reduced, and the maintenance expense is reduced. The pressure rollers of the natural fertilizer pellet making device are uniformly organized, and also the operation is stable.

https://preview.redd.it/j0fm75egh63b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0accba678fb5021fcf56ffff203d87d9d0cb5869
At the same time, journalism area is increased, and also the manufacturing efficiency is enhanced. The screw center pressure regulating structure is adopted, and the space in between the molds rises as well as decreases, which appropriates for various products to make certain the important result. This model is outfitted with Φ1 .5- Φ20mm various aperture molds, which are suitable for granulation of different materials and also accomplish better advantages.
Related post: chicken manure pellet machine price
2. The framework concept of organic plant food pellet mill
The pressure roller of this version natural plant food pellet making machine adopts likely wheel. And also both ends follow the line speed of the inner as well as outer rings of the die plate, as well as there is no misplacement friction in between the wheel and also the die, which lowers the resistance, decreases the kinetic energy loss, as well as prolongs the life span of the die.
The stress rollers are uniformly set as well as run smoothly, eliminating the simple feeding phenomenon of ordinary flat die stress rollers. The central stress managing structure is embraced to adjust to different materials as well as guarantee the important result. Compression molding of wood chips, corn stalks, etc requires a lot of stress.
In the very same sort of fertilizer pelletizing devices, the roller part is the main part of the entire tools, and the high-grade alloy steel is utilized to enhance the life span of the roller.This model organic plant food pellet making maker is outfitted with a selection of aperture molds, which are suitable for granulation of different products as well as achieve much better outcomes.
Organic plant food pellet making maker is loaded with steam, gas ammonia or phosphoric acid or nitrogen service, phosphorus ammonia slurry, heavy calcium slurry to finish the chain reaction and also heating compound fertilizer granulation procedure in the cyndrical tube; or include a small amount of water The process of cold granulation of substance fertilizer.
The product to be granulated is travelled through the rotary motion of the cyndrical tube, and the rolling turning takes place when there is no product in the cylinder, and it is accumulated right into rounds under a certain moisture and temperature level, and also the ball-making process is completed.
3. Application of natural plant food pellet making machine:
Mostly suitable for crude fiber granulation, such as: wood chips, rice husks, cotton stalks, cottonseed husks, weeds and other plant straws, home waste, factory waste, low adhesion price, tough to shape materials granulation, however additionally ideal for granulation. Low-temperature granulation of biological microbial fertilizer, organic fertilizer, compound plant food, etc.
The usage as well as characteristics of the press organic plant food pellet making equipment: the extrusion natural plant food pellet making maker is a brand-new generation of granulation equipment created by our firm.
It is created by non-drying as well as normal temperature level procedure, one-time molding, and also the outcome is 1-1 .5 tons/hour as well as 1.5-3 tons/hour. The devices has low investment, fast effect as well as good economic advantages.
The complete collection of natural plant food pellet making equipment is compact in format, scientific as well as sensible, and progressed in modern technology. Energy saving and also intake decrease, no discharge of three wastes, stable procedure, trustworthy operation as well as practical upkeep.
The raw material has large flexibility and also is suitable for granulation of different basic materials such as compound fertilizer, medicine, chemical industry, feed, etc. The item has a high granulation rate.
It can generate various focus and also various kinds of compound plant foods ( consisting of organic plant foods, not natural plant foods, organic plant foods, magnetic fertilizers, and so on). In particular, the granulation of rare earth, potash fertilizer as well as ammonium bicarbonate series compound plant foods fills the domestic void and also rates at the residential degree.
The natural fertilizer pellet making equipment is made use of to granulate different organic compounds after fermentation, which appears the conventional organic granulation procedure. There is no requirement to dry and also pulverize the raw materials before granulation, and also the spherical fragments can be processed directly with active ingredients, which can conserve a lot of energy.
The internal revolving tooth natural plant food pellet making maker developed and also created by our system has specifications such as Φ600, Φ800, Φ1000, Φ1200, Φ1800, Φ2000, and so on, as well as can additionally create as well as produce various other specifications according to customer needs. The covering of the natural fertilizer pellet device is constructed from thick smooth steel pipe, which is solid and also resilient, as well as can be flawed.
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2023.05.31 10:57 thebamboobae0 What Are the Pros and Cons of Bamboo Straws?

What Are the Pros and Cons of Bamboo Straws?
Did you know that the first mass-produced straws date back to 1890? And before that, the ancient people used long, thin tubes to drink the liquid they then produced. Today, even if this accessory is not essential to our lives, it continues to seduce many of us. Sadly, an estimated 8.3 billion plastic straws litter our beaches and oceans. So let's learn to have fun while preserving our planet. Let's use reusable or disposable straws made of a non-polluting natural material, eco-friendly bamboo straw in India.

Bamboo straws, a 100% eco-friendly alternative

Bamboo is a sustainable material that allows a multitude of uses, such as kitchen utensils or to create objects that have to be in contact with food, thanks to its antibacterial properties, which is why these drinking straws are the best alternative to plastic ones. They are delivered with a brush that allows cleaning them effectively and easily. Once clean, you just have to let them dry, and they are ready for use.
https://preview.redd.it/dv60tpona63b1.jpg?width=640&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=be8220ac29d9c554b4db30922b6f9b54ab0ac615
Bamboo straws are a 100% eco-friendly alternative to polluting and has-been plastic straws. For adults and children, this small tube made of natural material is compostable and biodegradable at the end of its life. You have the choice between bamboo paper straws, organic, food grade, and reusable bamboo straws. Small diameter, large diameter, they are discreet in your cupboards. Some straws come with a recyclable cotton pouch, so you can have them in your bag, clean and ready to use! And for impeccable hygiene, reusable straws come with a cleaning brush. Adopt an eco-responsible approach, and treat yourself without moderation with bamboo straws.

Bamboo straws- pros and cons

Benefits
Bamboo straws appeal for several reasons. They are :
  • resolutely green, natural, biodegradable, and compostable
  • original and aesthetic
  • healthy, without chemical materials, and therefore non-toxic
  • durable and resistant
Disadvantages
Of course, they are not perfect, and we have noted some disadvantages:
  • a shorter lifespan than some reusable straws (glass, metal, etc.)
  • sometimes more difficult to clean than their competitors due to the random diameter
  • a slight taste in the mouth for reusable bamboo straws
Overall, while bamboo straws have several advantages, it is crucial to choose a reputable manufacturer when making a purchase. A reliable bamboo straw manufacturer will ensure that the bamboo straws are of high quality, durable, and free from any harmful substances.
Read More:-
https://thebamboobae.com/blogs/news/what-are-the-pros-and-cons-of-bamboo-straws
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2023.05.31 10:53 susanmuskats How Long Does Cooked Ground Beef Last In The Fridge?

How Long Does Cooked Ground Beef Last In The Fridge?
Ground beef is a popular cooking ingredient in many recipes. When cooked to a safe internal temperature, it destroys harmful bacteria that can cause foodborne illness.
Cooked ground beef can be refrigerated safely for up to four days if it is stored properly. However, leftovers can quickly spoil if left at room temperature for too long.
How Long Does Cooked Ground Beef Last In The Fridge?

Thermometer Test

Ground beef is a versatile ingredient that can be used to create a variety of meals. However, it is important to store this meat properly in order to keep it safe and edible for as long as possible. Using a food thermometer is one of the best ways to ensure that ground beef is thoroughly cooked, which reduces the risk of foodborne illness and keeps it tasting its best. Additionally, storing ground beef in an airtight container in the fridge can help to preserve its freshness and flavor for longer.
According to the United States Department of Agriculture, cooked ground beef can last up to three to four days in the refrigerator. During this time, it is important to keep the ground beef in an airtight container and refrigerate it in the coldest area of the fridge. It is also helpful to separate the ground beef from other foods in the fridge to avoid cross-contamination and slow the spoilage process.
If ground beef is kept in the fridge for more than seven days or shows signs of spoilage such as off-odors, discoloration, or mold growth, it should be discarded. While it may be tempting to eat spoiled ground beef, it can contain harmful bacteria that can cause food poisoning.
When deciding whether or not cooked ground beef has gone bad, it is important to use your senses. Spoiled ground beef will have a foul smell and can be sticky or slimy to the touch. Additionally, the color of the meat will change from a bright red to gray or brown in color.
If you are unsure about the safety of your ground beef, it is always a good idea to err on the side of caution and discard it. It is never worth the risk of getting food poisoning.

Check for Signs of Spoilage

Ground beef is a versatile and easy-to-make ingredient that can make a variety of meals. From burgers to casseroles and Shepherd’s pie, this meat is a great way to get quick and satisfying dinner on busy nights. However, when left unrefrigerated for too long, this ingredient can become spoiled and may cause foodborne illness in people who consume it. Luckily, there are some ways to know if cooked ground beef has gone bad and whether or not it’s safe to eat.
When ground beef goes bad, it’ll often start to develop a slimy texture that can be hard to notice without actually touching the meat. Another common sign of spoilage is a strong odor that can be very unpleasant and sour in taste. If a person notices either of these signs in their cooked ground beef, they should immediately discard it.
Unlike raw meats, which will often turn red or pink in color, the only time ground beef should be brown is when it’s been fully cooked. When cooked, meat will generally turn a light brown shade due to oxygen from the air reacting with its natural pigments. However, if the beef starts to turn brown before it’s been cooked, this is a sign that it has started to spoil.
If a person notices that their ground beef is turning gray or brown, they should throw it away immediately, as this is a sign of spoilage and may contain dangerous pathogens like E. coli and Salmonella. Additionally, if a person notices any mold growth on their ground beef, they should immediately throw it away as well, as this is not safe to eat and can lead to serious health issues.
Although there are a few signs that indicate that a person’s cooked ground beef is going bad, it’s important to use a thermometer to ensure that the meat has reached a temperature high enough to kill any bacteria present in it. People should also check for any other signs of spoilage, such as an odd smell or a slimy texture, to be on the safe side.
How to tell if cooked ground beef has gone bad?

Store in the Freezer

Ground beef is a common cooking ingredient that can be used to make a wide variety of meals and snacks. It’s inexpensive and highly versatile, making it a staple in many households. However, like any other food, it has a limited shelf life once it’s cooked. So, how long does cooked ground beef last in the fridge and when should you consider throwing it out?
Cooked ground beef can last for up to four days in the refrigerator if it’s stored properly. To maximize freshness, store it in an airtight container or freezer-safe bag and place it in the coldest part of the fridge. Also, be sure to remove any sauces, seasonings, or other additives before storing it. This will help keep it from spoiling faster.
If you’re not planning on consuming your ground beef within this timeframe, it can be safely frozen for two to three months. When freezing, use an airtight container or plastic freezer bags to prevent any leaking juices from contaminating other foods in the freezer. Also, make sure to label your ground beef and date it before putting it in the freezer.
When storing cooked ground beef in the freezer, it’s important to cool it down before placing it in a container or freezer bag. Placing hot meat directly into a freezer can cause it to defrost and thaw out, which could lead to contamination. Additionally, it’s best to wrap the beef tightly and use a label to keep track of its expiration date.
Once your cooked ground beef has been properly cooled and stored, it can remain safe for up to four months in the freezer. Just be sure to use a label and freeze it in an airtight, plastic or glass container to avoid freezer burn and loss of flavor. Additionally, if you plan on re-freezing your beef, be sure to keep it in its original container and avoid adding additional liquids, such as marinades or sauces. This will ensure that the beef retains its shape and texture. If you notice any signs of spoilage, such as a foul odor, sliminess, or discoloration, discard it immediately.

Discard if Goes Bad

If people keep cooked ground beef in the fridge and it goes bad, they should discard it immediately. Bad ground beef can cause food poisoning, which usually results in stomach cramps and diarrhea. People who experience these symptoms should seek medical attention to help determine what caused the illness.
Cooked ground beef should only be eaten after it has been refrigerated for three or four days. People can also freeze cooked ground beef for longer storage, but it is important to ensure that they place it in an airtight freezer bag and label it before freezing.
People should also store raw and cooked ground beef separately in the fridge to prevent cross-contamination. This is especially important because the meat can pick up bacteria from utensils, cutting boards, and other surfaces that have been used to prepare and store other foods. People should also wash their hands frequently to prevent the spread of bacteria.
There are many signs that can indicate if cooked ground beef has gone bad, including a strong odor, dull or grayish color, and a slimy texture. If a person notices any of these signs, they should discard the beef and start over.
When storing cooked ground beef in the refrigerator, it should be tightly sealed in an airtight container and placed on the bottom shelf. It is also a good idea to label the container and date it. For long-term storage, people can freeze cooked ground beef in a resealable freezer bag for up to three months. When reheating, people should use a food thermometer to make sure that the meat has reached 165 degrees Fahrenheit before eating it. For best results, people should reheat meals slowly and stir the dish frequently. This helps ensure that the beef is evenly heated. People should also use separate utensils and cutting boards to prevent contamination when cooking and storing ground beef. If a person does not have a freezer to store cooked ground beef, they can thaw it under running water for about five minutes. This should be done carefully, as too much water may ruin the flavor of the meat.
#susanmuskats #susanmuskats #Chefsusanmuskats
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2023.05.31 10:45 FABLOONS Sublimation Blank Photo Frames like sublimation Table top photo frames

Sublimation Blank Photo Frames like sublimation Table top photo frames

Sublimation Blank Photo Frames like sublimation Table top photo frames, sublimation rotating photo lamps, sublimation heart hexagon lamp, sublimation anniversary/ birthday/ couple photo frames, sublimation glass photo frames, sublimation blank clocks, sublimation magic mirror etc. Turn any photograph, piece of art! The frame set makes a great gifting idea.
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2023.05.31 10:44 George_1000 Benzyl Chloride storage?

Aside from glass bottles, what plastic can be used to store benzyl chloride? I can’t find a lot of info on chemical compatibility charts, except for one which gives it an “F” rating for PP, and another which gives it an “A” rating for PP…
From what I can see it is often stored/sold in plastic jugs, but I’m not sure what would work, thanks.
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2023.05.31 10:37 PFPFiber The World of Fiber Optics

Principle of fiber optics is based on transmission of data by means of light. Concept of fiber optics was first conceived by Claude Chappe in 1790's. His idea for fiber optics was based on an optical telegraph concept invented by Graham Bell also tried the means to send information by the atmosphere but did not succeed. Finally, fiber optics emerged with the onset of new era based on the principle of total internal reflection which is a distinct quality of light rays. fiber polishing supplies
Fiber optics emerged and grew into more advanced phase due to requirement from radio and telephone engineers. These engineers required more bandwidth for data transmission. Thus these engineers had been looking out for a medium to transmit data in more reliable and faster form rather than copper cables. They also wanted to avoid the hazards of electric shocks and interference which were a constant problem of copper cables.
Fiber optics had attracted some attention because they were analogous in theory to plastic dielectric waveguides used in certain microwave applications. Finally, a technology evolved that used glass or plastic threads to transmit data. Cables involved in fiber optics contain several bundles of glass threads which are capable of transmitting data in modulated form. fiber optic patch cord supplier
With the onset of fiber optics and fiber optic cables data started to transfer faster as fiber optic cables have greater bandwidth than metal cables and are more resistant to external interference. Lighter and thinner fiber optic cables readily transfer data in digital form rather than analogue form. This technology is most useful in computer industry which now forms an integral part of telephone, radio and television industry.
Telecommunications applications of fiber optics use flexible low-loss fibers, using a single fiber per optical path. Along with the communication industry fiber optics plays an important role in medical and industrial applications also. Many medical appliances like endoscope use the principle of fiber optics. Industrial applications viz. in television industry use the principle of fiber optics to obtain flattened images in cathode ray tubes. polishing machines suppliers
Fiber optics yield distortion free data transmission in digital form. The audio waves transmitted via principle of fiber optics deliver accurate signal transfer. Fiber optics is also useful in automotive and transportation industry. Traffic lights, organized and scrutinized highway traffic control, automated toll booths, etc. are some of the benefits of application of fiber options in the transportation mechanism.
View More: fiber optic wall mount enclosure
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2023.05.31 10:16 booandmoothecats 63F FAST FRIENDS

Sometimes I like to just go down to the deck as the sun is setting, bring a candle and a (modest! I am not a blasphemer, sir!!!) glass of wine down with me. I just sit on this deck I made, in my favorite plastic chair, and listen to everything: the sound of people coming home, the children laughing in the street, the wind. I feel the air get chillier and think of fall days. Yesterday, as I sat, in the glow of the setting sun, I thought about how different it was in 1989. Back then, we had so many worries. But we partied hard (nowww like I said, I am a wholesome, calm woman now so don't judge me!!) just to get out of our heads for awhile - those were turbulent times, I tell ya what. Well I thought about the deck I had back in '89, and thought about how I didn't build that deck and I dunno who did but I hope they have a happy life now.
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2023.05.31 09:04 mashfika Embrace a Plastic-Free Lifestyle!

🚫 Say NO to Plastic and Protect Our Planet! 🚫
Plastic pollution is suffocating our environment, harming wildlife, and threatening our own well-being. It's time to make a change! Let's raise awareness about the impact of plastic and inspire action towards a plastic-free future.
🌊 Why should we ditch plastic? 🌊
1️⃣ Environmental devastation: Plastic waste pollutes our oceans, rivers, and lands. It takes hundreds of years to decompose, endangering marine life and disrupting ecosystems. By reducing plastic use, we can preserve nature's beauty.
2️⃣ Wildlife at risk: Animals mistake plastic for food or become entangled in it, leading to injury, suffocation, and death. By eliminating plastic, we can protect precious species and maintain biodiversity.
3️⃣ Human health concerns: Plastic contains harmful chemicals that can leach into food, water, and the environment. These toxins pose health risks, including hormone disruption and long-term diseases. By reducing plastic, we safeguard our well-being.
💡 How can you make a difference? 💡
1️⃣ Choose reusable: Opt for reusable alternatives like stainless steel water bottles, cloth bags, and glass containers. By avoiding single-use plastics, you significantly reduce waste.
2️⃣ Say no to straws and cutlery: Refuse plastic straws and cutlery when dining out. Carry your own eco-friendly alternatives or ask for paper or metal options.
3️⃣ Bring your bag: Always carry a reusable bag when shopping. Help eliminate the need for plastic bags and contribute to a cleaner planet.
4️⃣ Support local initiatives: Get involved in local cleanup efforts, recycling programs, or campaigns promoting plastic reduction. Together, we can make a bigger impact.
5️⃣ Spread the word: Share the message with your family, friends, and community. Educate others about the harmful effects of plastic and encourage them to adopt plastic-free habits.
🌱 Let's be the change! 🌱
By reducing our reliance on plastic, we can protect our environment, wildlife, and future generations. Together, we have the power to create a world free from plastic pollution. Embrace sustainable choices and join the movement for a cleaner, greener planet.

PlasticFree #ProtectOurPlanet #ChooseSustainability

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2023.05.31 08:41 BensMinion Paint strippers pt2

Paint strippers pt2
I have now aquired what i believe to be 99% isopropyl alcohol i will trust the store clerk who found it for me that it is correct, but now i would like to ask since this is a very toxic substance how i should go ahead with using it for stripping, ill be using a test piece to see what it does to plastic under paint of course.
Protective gear i should probably use: -glasses -gloves im asuming -anything else?
Help apreciated
Also yes use in well ventilated area i read the warnings on the can
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