Spam. Spam. Spam.

Some time ago, a link down here was created. Don’t know who, or when, but the spambots managed to find me.

One person really enjoyed the modern design (which is the WordPress default), and he were pleased with the content on this perfect blog.

Another person vaguely commented on the Great Related Information! She has been hunting for everything similar to this. She didn’t say why she’s looking for documentation on an internal tool.

Yet another person is asking me if I want to discover the secret to get more leads (as in CSI), sales (Selling my blog) and traffic? Yeah, right after I discover the secret to grow my pen1s up to 16.18″!!!!!!!

Along with all these great offers, someone’s trying to sell me Google’s homepage. They say I can easily own the first page – This sounds pretty legit. Although it does strike me as odd that Bing is selling me google’s front page…

Maybe I’m being too hard on the people who spam my comments. I will admit that I enjoy the praise they give me – Something to be said for that?

As for the header, FlightGear released a new version (since I last checked a year ago), so I installed it. It supports anaglyphic 3d rendering, so anyone with 3d glasses out there… I tried mine, but the red lenses can’t filter out the blue image worth beans, which kills the whole 3d illusion. At some point, I might adjust FG to accommodate my glasses. Does it work for anyone else?

Okay, let’s finish off this story. If I remember correctly, we just finished origins?

The manager picked up the phone “Hello?”

“Hey, this is your doorboy.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Yo, I won’t be able to make it to work today.”

“Why not? You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m fine. I ran into one of our customers, and she’s sick, so I’m taking care of her.”

“Sure thing, kid. You earned a break.” The manager put up the phone. The kid had earned a break, and his voice had a note in it that the manager couldn’t quite place.

The manager shrugged and finished his sandwich.

The boy put down the girl’s cell phone and whispered “thank you.” Then he replaced the cool cloth on her forehead.

“You live here.”

It was more a statement, but the boy nodded affirmative over cold oatmeal. The girl hid a questioning glance at the inadvertant skylight, the peeling asbestos paint, and the remaining half of the wall to what might have been a bedroom.

“Thank you for taking me in and, well, keeping me alive.”

“Couldn’t just leave you alone.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Why don’t you paint?”

The boy shrugged “Why bother? It’s only a temporary place.”

“You’ve been here how long?” The girl immediately regretted the sarcastic tone in her voice.

Thankfully, the boy didn’t seem to notice. “About seven years.”

“You never did tell me your name.”

The boy became intently interested in the cereal box.

“You don’t have a name?”

The boy shook his head slightly, and mumbled “Not really.”

“You should make one then. Mine is Hannah. Did I forget to mention that?” She laughed and held out her hand across the table.

The boy smiled and shook her hand “I’m… Uh… Manuel.”

The girl smiled. “That’s a good name. It fits you perfectly.”


“Of course. Don’t be silly.”

The boy handed her the last bag. “Thank you so much for taking me in for the past couple of days.”

“Seriously, don’t stress it. No problem. You know where you’re headed?”

“Yeah. Down to the bus stop.” She held up a stack of money. “Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

“No, really. I have a home here.”

“It could use a little paint.”

The boy thoughtfully inspected the doorjamb.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. You’re just going to stay here?”

The boy shrugged and nodded from the doorway.

“No family?”

The boy shrugged and shook his head.


The boy paused for a moment. Then nodded “Yeah. I have a few here in town.”

The girl smiled, waved goodbye, and walked down the sidewalk into the setting sun.

The boy got the mail and sat in front of his house for a while, his chin perched thoughtfully on his hand. Finally he got up, turned around, and left.

The next day, the hotel manager’s phone rang. He picked it up “This is Mr. Johnston speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hey man, this is your door boy. Sorry, but… I can’t make it tomorrow either.”

“Taking care of the customer?”

“No sir. She’s alright. Painting the house.”

“Take as long as you need, then, kid.” He hung up the phone, and turned to Tom, the other bell boy. “He’ll be off for about a week. Painting the house.”

Tom gave a slight knowing grin. “Sure thing. I’ll cover for him.”

The End


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