Antipasto

I'm posting this as an appetizer to Huxley's Happy Hunting Ground. This piece of 'docufiction' will come with the Jobe immanent experience: something akin to a punch on the nose . . . stings - you betcha! Don't fancy it? Plenty of Mills & Boon you could read instead - yuck!!!

I don't tell stories in the usual manner. I understand there's a genre for straight A-B narratives - but that ain't me. If you don't like what I post - click off - doubt we'll meet again. Sometimes you just have to be frank on certain matters. Please don't rock the boat, they say. But hey, THAT'S THE NAME OF THE GAME. Readers DON'T GET IT. Don't think, in all honesty, they ever will. And yes, it can get pretty brutal and unforgiving at times.

If I happen to ignite something in you, it's probably because you haven't felt the 'spark of life' for a while. You've fallen asleep. Don't worry, I promise to burst your bubble. No safety net either. That's tough love.