Grimm Tales Read Online Free PDF

matching words to best define power. Blow torch. Band saw. Socket wrench. Needle-nosed pliers.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, I got that toolbox. Now what are you hammering at?”
    â€œI didn’t hammer, I told you. I unscrewed. I drilled.”
    â€œThis is a fine time to let me know you watch HGTV and know what to do about it.”
    Pammy packed a playful punch to the gut of the guy with the grin who had got her point all along.
    â€œYou took down the chandelier. We scored the diamonds. And you drilled some holes to make the great escape on the
Whammy Zammy
not so shipshape. Waaaaait a minute—didn’t Sonny boy get there in time to push away that possibility?”
    â€œI got your text. Your spelling is atrocious, by the way, when you’re driving. There’s a law against that.”
    â€œYeah, babe—we don’t wanta break no laws. C’mon, tell me what didn’t you do?”
    â€œI didn’t drill, baby, drill when it would’ve let an underdog good guy have a happy ending. I’m tough but I’m a sucker for happy endings.”
    â€œYep, sweetheart. Me too. The moral of this tale is—
Look what happens when you don’t pay the Piper.”
    She laughed.
    He pulled her closer.
    She nestled closer yet.
    He liked that.
    â€œOne thing, though. You had the diamonds. The Zambowzers were iced. Why’d you come back for me?”
    â€œEasy.
Mesmerization
. I deduced you’d play all the right tunes at all the right times.”
    â€œSweet Harmony always does. Let’s see where it takes us next, kid.”
    THE END
    (Or the beginning of a new beguine, if you know what I mean. Cue music.)
    Lyric snippets: all as inspired, emanating from college indie station KCEA in Menlo Park
“
Rhinestone Cowboy” stanza by Larry Weiss and Scott English for goodtime Glen Campbell

The Flying Trunk
    By Jack Bates
    When John originally posted the flash challenge, I stumbled upon an Aesop fable about a spoiled young prince whose behaviour costs him the love of his life. How perfect is that for a noir twist?
    â€œWhen his father died, the young man received a magic trunk that flew him to a magical land.”
    Aesop’s Fables
    Donny Markham lugged the old steamer trunk up the third and final flight of stairs of the renovated three-story walk-up. Like all of the other converted Victorians still standing along the Cass Corridor, there were no elevators. Not that there had ever been any plan to put one in. The tenants who now rented the flats were transient college students going to Wayne State University. Most had started off as commuters but by the time they hit twenty, they realized the myth of Detroit was far from the truth of Detroit. Yes, there were pockets where one didn’t go after dark or even after sunrise; but, on the whole, the city had more to offer than to fear.
    If only Donny’s dad had known this. The old man had closed his string of party shops along Woodward and Jefferson and moved all of his business north to the suburbs, along with every other white businessman in the epic flight of the seventies. In the end, his premature bailing on the city cost him, but not much. His empire of liquor shops went from ten to two. He switched to high-end wine for the one in southern Oakland County and to cheap booze in the one in Macomb County. His marketing strategy worked and while he didn’t die a wealthy man, he did die a well-off man, which meant Donny Markham, at twenty-two, was off to a considerable start over some of his college counterparts.
    The inheritance wouldn’t last forever; Donny knew that. He sold off the shops to separate owners who were now in a legal battle over who got to keep his family name over the door to their shop. Donny didn’t give two figs. He was taking his money and going back to school to get his teaching degree. He knew that Wayne made all School of Ed candidates do a semester of pre-student teaching in a