I lived in another state before Alabama and was a party to a multi-employee wage & labor dispute. Please know, I am not 'the guy who sues people'. This was a unique circumstance where we were approached by a lawyer who was representing another employee in our office, and it was explained to us clearly that our rights were being violated and legal wages owed to us were being withheld. It was not a class action claim (too few claimants), but the same lawyer represented each of us individually. Our claims ranged from misclassification (being illegally classified as a 'manager' so that we weren't eligible for overtime), unpaid breaks, and most importantly, major tip violations, where the employer was keeping our tips. The lawyer calculated each of our claims individually and sent separate demand letters. The employer then retained their own attorney who reviewed our claims against the state labor code (which our attorney had generously provided), and advised their client to promptly pay our claims so as to avoid a guaranteed loss in court + far greater attorney fees.
I say that to say this. I am constantly reading comments from workers both within this Reddit sub as well as the occasional google review of restaurants where a disgruntled current or former employee will anonymously outline ways in which they feel they were cheated. If you feel you have a reasonable wage or labor claim, I highly advise you to make note of any any all suspected violations, and contact a local wage & labor attorney. My claim was not in Alabama, and I have no allegiance to any local attorneys, therefore I am listing 3 that I found at first glance.
I am not an attorney and don't want to speak as one (super annoying when people do this) but I can tell you that if you are in the below criteria, you most definitely have a claim:
Did your boss or owner tell you at hiring, something along the lines of "The credit card tips at the cash register are too hard to keep up with, so what we do is pay everyone a higher hourly rate than anyone else around here, and it works out better for you that way" ? Not legal. All tips taken during a time frame are legally required to be properly accounted, and distributed to the employees classified as 'service' within that time frame. It can come later in the form of a check, and a % of it (roughly 3.5%) can be deducted for the CC fee, but this must be calculated and paid to the penny.
Did your boss convince you to waive your right to breaks and allow you to work 8 straight hours, eating at your desk so that you can "not have to take breaks and get off an hour earlier"? Not legal, you cannot waive this right even if you want to.
There are a slew of other wage and labor claims that your bosses or owners could be violating. During my ordeal, I personally read the labor codes of my state beforehand to try and see off the top of my head which ones had been violated. I counted 8. After meeting with the attorney and answering 100+ questions, they found 19 labor codes that had been violated. I liked his number much better.
If you are averse to attorneys, you also have the option of making a claim directly with the state labor board, who will investigate your claim and get you your money. It takes much longer.
The restaurant business is somewhat in shambles right now despite the lines you see out the door when you drive by. The cost of goods and services is at an all time high. Labor is at an all time high. Profit percentages are at an all time low. I have the deepest respect for the plight of the mom & pop restaurant owner. But the law is the law, and a local business owners rough tides cannot be stilled by the exploitation of workers.
Here are 3 wage & labor attorneys I found local to Birmingham:
https://www.adamporterlaw.com/
https://hkm.com/birmingham/
https://www.allenarnoldlaw.com/

i get payed $10 an hour and it feels pretty bad when people come in and they’re like “omg you guys are so busy, you’re doing great” and then press no tip. we’re not asking for you to tip egregious amounts of money but it would be much more encouraging to know we were getting some tips

I’ve been playing this game for a while now. I hate playing as zombies and I have scraped all my zombie cards in favor of plant cards. I cannot win however a single game. Far too many times I have been only 2 hit points away from a win only to have the zombie spam fucking going viral and thinking caps which combined with their zombie teachers that further lower the cost of tricks. It’s hell and it gets annoying after a while.
What would be some good tips that don’t require spending money?

A few months ago I decided to try selling on depop, just for a hobby / fun thing to do as I often enjoy thrifting and second hand clothing, and a way to hopefully grow to make some money on the side.
I was just curious how people keep up to date on what items and styles people are looking for and shopping for, as I often find my own personal style isnt always exactly what others are wearing or looking for.
I try to look at the depop selling tips account as they usually post what trending each week, but i've had no real luck with that.

Hello all, been following this community for a long time and I’m about to make a decision for which your advice is greatly appreciated.
I’m 52 years old guy (good health condition, divorced, a daughter in her first year of university and no family in America). who worked for Corporate America (Finance & Operations) all his live (relocated internationally and all) and was let go a couple of years ago and couldn’t find a single job; I was born in Argentina but do have US Citizenship as I was in the States for 15 years up until 2009. I do speak Spanish, English, Portuguese and Italian.
Been living in Argentina (Company relocation) since I left the States, and I’m about to return to Florida (Palm Beach) because things are really tough down here. I’m going back to Florida because that’s where I’ve lived for most of those 15 years in the States and have some very good friends that will let me crush in their house until I get up and rolling (don’t want to abuse them!)
Hope my introduction helps to portrait my actual situation and where I would like to get from here (please remember, no family or house in the States).
Here I go:
1) I would like to become a truck driver doing OTR, driving as much as I can and live out of the truck (meaning no home time and tacking my 34s wherever I may be). I need to catch up with those unemployed years.
2) Had a Florida Driver License for those 15 years which expired on February 2010.
3) Getting back to Florida on June 1^st (two weeks), and already have booked and appointment on June 3^rd to get my Driver license back (just need to retake the knowledge and vision exam, no driving).
4) From there would like to obtain my CDL through a trucking company and work for them.

I have been reading that is very difficult for drivers in Florida to obtain any OTR job as no company will get you down there for home time (time that I will not be seeking).
My questions:
5) Since my Driver License has expired and will get a new one on June3rd, will my prior fifteen years count, or I would need to have a year from now prior applying to any CDL?
6) Based on the information provided above, what will you do to obtain your CDL as quickly as possible and from there work with the company that helped you to obtain it? Want to move from my friend’s house as soon as possible, ideally two weeks as I don’t want to bother much.
7) Since I won’t be requesting “home time”, do you think I could be recruited from Florida (my address will be my friend’s address but planning to be there no more than two weeks)?
8) I drove stick my whole life, will it make any difference (money and job wise) to be trained to drive stick?

I would really appreciate any information / comments / tips / pointers that you can provide me to help accomplish my goal.
Lastly, sorry for this long post, but been thinking about asking these questions for a long time.
Thank you all and drive safe!

I bought $13 worth (8 shares), as that's all I had in my Fidelity account. I transferred more into my account but it said it will take 3-4 business days for the transfer to be cleared.
Is there a quicker way to get money into this account to buy more?
Also, any other tips and tricks are welcome! Investing is new to me!

Hi I'm having a flight to Frankfurt am Main tomorrow at 6pm from London, and on the next day I'll maybe take a train to Paris. My question is since I'm very inexperienced with traveling by train in Germany, can someone share some tips for me on how to book and where to catch train ? Also, is the napcab in the airport good because I don't intend on spending money for a hotel ?
Thanks in advance !

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Hi FJ community!
I'm here with a couple of questions because sadly I need to sell my FJ, but I have some questions about what it might be worth given its condition.
For context, the car was my late father's that I inherited, and while I love the car so much it no longer its my lifestyle or budget considering the amount of work it needs to pass inspection this year. I've never bought or sold a car before, let alone one that people constantly tell me is "worth something" or "a collector's item" and I don't know how real that is / don't want to be duped out of money that might be on the table. It was my dad's favorite thing and it's hard to finally part with it, so I just know he'd want me to be smart about this. Any advice y'all could give me from the perspective of FJ lovers / FJ owners would be much appreciated!
Specs are down below for specifics but the long story short is that the car has frame rust damage that I don't want to pay to weld considering I don't drive the car much anymore. Google is telling me that to sell a vehicle that isn't passing inspection, I should post it on Craigslist as "a non road worthy vehicle" and essentially part with it for parts, but I'm concerned about pricing it wrong or doing that if there's a better way.
Given the specs below, does anyone have a gut feeling about how much this should be selling for? If it's not much, that's okay, but I could really use the money and don't want to make a mistake here. Also if anyone has any tips for selling a car in this condition, I'd appreciate the advice! Without my dad I'm flying blind with Google and there's a lot of conflicting info out there.
Specs:
Model: 2007 FJ, maroon with white top and roof rack Mileage: At/around 215,000, it's at the shop so I don't recall the exact number Interior Condition: Decent but could use detail cleaning, no actual 'damage' past normal wear and tear Normal Maintenance Needs: Likely needs some new brakes, rotors I'm not sure of Exterior Condition: Dented back bumper, but not significant just on one corner. The rest of the car body is fine, but the real damage is to the frame which has "significant" rust. I got one section welded and patched last year that got me through, but the mechanics tell me sections of the back bumper area are "rusted out" as well as part of the frame towards the front of the car. They said it's something that could "probably be welded" but at this point would probably cost more than I want to pay considering I drive the car maybe twice a month since moving to a city. (I do take the car out weekly to get things moving, but as far as real / highway drive time that's 2x a month now)
Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read and respond, I appreciate it!
tldr; Need to sell a 2007 FJ with frame rust damage and high mileage but not sure how to go about pricing that or doing that.... any advice welcome!

We just bought a house built in 1962. Structurally it is in great shape, we have already had the radon mitigation system installed, locks re-keyed, sewer line rotor rooted. We’ve been here about 10 days and so far no scary surprises/things not seen on inspection. We are of course setting aside money in the budget for future surprises though!
My conundrum is, where do we start making updates? Literally every single room is the same as it was 60 years ago (besides flooring, the newest stuff still appears to be at least 20 years old though).
We have 2 kids age 8 and 21 months, and are expecting a baby in December. My husband is a teacher so he’ll be off soon for the summer, but he does still work about 1 day a week in his classroom, plus on the days I work he’s alone with the kids for 14 hours so no big projects happening those 3 days/week.
All of this to say, any tips on strategies for planning a whole home update/refresh? Things you did in your homes that gave you the most “bang for your buck”’in terms of money/time invested?
I’m very grateful we can focus on modernizing vs repairing major issues, I just can’t figure out where to start!
Any advice welcomed 🫶

I work from home, grabbing whatever piece work I can find. As a result, my money comes in randomly in little spurts and is mostly deposited to PayPal. I see all kinds of online banks offering cash incentives for opening accounts that are paid out after a certain amount of direct deposits. Is there any bank that caters more to people like myself, who would mostly be transferring funds from Paypal and therefor couldn't participate in direct deposit? Also, any other tips for freelancers when it comes to online banking?

Hello, I’m a E4 who has BAH with no spouse or dependents coming from blue side going to green. I’ve been informed that when my lease breaks I will have to move into the barracks. I’ve got a lot of stuff in my apartment and don’t want to spend a bunch of money on a storage unit. Any tips on how to keep BAHor other advice would be greatly appreciated!

Bill Rogers locked the garage door, slid the hose into the driver’s side window, climbed into the back seat, laid down and shut his eyes. When he woke up, he was surrounded by clouds and a blue sky. A man, neither young nor old stood next to him. He wore a coat like an Afghan goat herder, Bill thought, maybe made of sheepskin, or cowhide—tough to say, as Bill was no expert in husbandry. The man was small where Bill was large. Bill was six-three and two hundred and fifty pounds. He had played tight-end in college and lorded his physical stature over small men all his life. He felt it gave him an advantage at contract negotiations. He always made sure to be sitting when the opposing lawyers walked in because his size was hidden. Then he would stand up from behind table—a great reveal, a physical imposition—in an effortless attempt to intimidate the other team. It was mostly an effective strategy. The man, nearly a foot shorter, and a petite lady’s-weight less was standing almost eye-level with Bill. He sheepishly looked at Bill and asked if he was happy now.

“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.

“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”

“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”

“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”

“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”

“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”

He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”

“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”

“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”

“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”

“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”

“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”

Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.

“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”

“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.

“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”

“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”

“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”

“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”

The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.

“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”

“Thanks, God, you really are great.”

“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”

Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”

“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.

A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.

Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.

On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.

After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.

After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.

“Can I take your coat?”

“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”

“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”

“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Who are you?”

The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.

“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”

“This is hell.”

“Call it what you will.”

The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”

Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.

“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.

“We came to see you!”

“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”

The woman was getting in her Mercedes and looked over to see what the ruckus was about, but then looked away before making eye contact.

“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”

***
Follow u/quillandtrowel for more at Medium & Twitter (links in bio!).

Bill Rogers locked the garage door, slid the hose into the driver’s side window, climbed into the back seat, laid down and shut his eyes. When he woke up, he was surrounded by clouds and a blue sky. A man, neither young nor old stood next to him. He wore a coat like an Afghan goat herder, Bill thought, maybe made of sheepskin, or cowhide—tough to say, as Bill was no expert in husbandry. The man was small where Bill was large. Bill was six-three and two hundred and fifty pounds. He had played tight-end in college and lorded his physical stature over small men all his life. He felt it gave him an advantage at contract negotiations. He always made sure to be sitting when the opposing lawyers walked in because his size was hidden. Then he would stand up from behind table—a great reveal, a physical imposition—in an effortless attempt to intimidate the other team. It was mostly an effective strategy. The man, nearly a foot shorter, and a petite lady’s-weight less was standing almost eye-level with Bill. He sheepishly looked at Bill and asked if he was happy now.
“I suppose so,” Bill answered, rather dazed and unaware of all that was happening. “Are you God?” asked Bill. The old man smiled knowingly and set his delicate hand on Bill’s shoulder. “What can I do to make you comfortable?” Bill attempted to stand up but the man’s hand held him in place without applying any extra force. “A scotch would be nice! Do they serve scotch in heaven?” he laughed. The man laughed and gave Bill a scotch.
“Let me tell you, God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it! When do we go through the pearly gates?”
“I’m afraid you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. That’s not how it works. Tell me, how was life on Earth?”
“Well, I guess you can tell by how I checked out it wasn’t great. But I am feeling better now. Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, I guess, right?”
“I guess so. You weren’t very happy down there. But that’s what I’m here for. You can fix it all now. Tell me, what went wrong in your life?”
“Wait, is this Purgatory then?”
He chuckled, “No. Don’t be silly. What went wrong down there?”
“I knew it—those nuns were all off. Well, for one, I worked too much. I spent 80, 90, 100 hours a week every week for years—hell, probably decades when you add it all up—in the office, chasing the ring, getting the promotion.” His thought broke and he looked at the man and said, “you know I cleared 950-k last year?” Sinking back into his thoughts, “but it wasn’t enough for her. She could give Cleopatra a run for her money. Man she could spend. I worked all the time, always on the road to a different client’s office, eating airport food, never exercising. Traded my health and youth for wealth, then she got to enjoy it. I ended up all alone in my big house, all by myself and my LonelyFans Platinum subscription. Look at me, I got so fat no pretty woman could stand to look at me. If I could do it again, I’d go back and just make 60k a year, keep my health, my good looks, and go to clubs every night and dance with beautiful women. I wasted so much.”
“Wow, thanks for being so honest, Bill. I’m glad you were honest, because now I can give you the chance to fix it. I am going to give you the opportunity to craft the life you always wanted, the life you dreamed of! This is your chance Bill, to do it right this time. You had a full life, you tried out things: some worked, some didn’t—that trip to Tokyo probably didn’t help your marriage, did it; but now that’s all behind, now you get to create the perfect one based on everything you learned. Now you get to play God to yourself. You will have the power to create any life you want: money, women, food, servants, power, glory, the revenge on everybody who did you wrong—anything.”
“Oh, Good Lord, heaven is even better than Mother Superior led on! I get to do that? Now?”
“Yes, I’m granting you this power. Total freedom to do what you want. You deserve it! You’ve earned it, Bill.”
“Ok, so what do I do? Just point and make something happen?”
“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “everybody always wants to point at things like some Vegas magician. The entire creation was spoken into existence, but ever since Adam people want to point things into existence—whatever makes them happy, I guess. Anyway, you’ve got the power of the Lord, do it however you want!”
Bill pointed to a cloud in front of him and a new truck appeared before his eyes. “Holy moly, I can’t believe it’s real.” The sun reflecting off the chrome was just a big blur to Bill Rogers water-filled eyes. He had to squint to see that it had the turbodiesel engine he had imagined. “I’m not going to get carried away on the wealth. I learned my lesson there. It doesn’t buy happiness. I had eight digits in my savings account,” he looked to see if the man was listening, “and look at where that got me. No, just a simple life for me,” he pointed to a cloud and four-bed, three-bath house with in-law suite and three car garage next to a lush green lawn appeared. It fronted a cul-de-sac. “You can’t take it with you, right?” he laughed.
“Is that it, Bill? What else do you want?”
“Well, like I said, I want to be young and healthy.” His stomach disappeared into his abdominal muscles and the brown spots and wrinkles on his hands vanished into a smooth clear skin.
“And what are you going to do with your time? Go back to your old job?”
“Ohh, you got a good sense of humor, God!” The old man laughed along with Bill. “Like I said, I just want to live a normal life and go to the bars at night, talk to beautiful women. Dance with them, smile, laugh. Have fun, that’s all.”
“Your wish, is my command,” he said, and Bill asked if that is how it really worked, and the old man laughed: “no, but people really started to ask for it after Aladdin got big, so I started doing it.”
“You’re a real people-pleaser, aren’t you, God?”
The small man’s sheepish smile resurfaced and a faint pink tint rose up to his pale cheeks.
“That is it for now, enjoy your new life, Bill. I’ll be back to check on you after a while.”
“Thanks, God, you really are great.”
“Oh, wait, one more thing—I almost forgot. In your newly made, perfect, heavenly life— do you want your children here?”
Bill let out a huge laugh, “of course! How could I forget! Yes, of course, I want to see my children! Not every day—and don’t have the Queen of Sheba bring ‘em by either, if you know what I mean,” he nudged the old man with his elbow, almost knocking his small frame over, “but yes I always regretted not having more time with the kids.”
“Great, I’ll make that happen. I’ll be ba-a-a-a-a-ck,” he said as he turned around.
A door appeared out of nowhere and the old man glided over to it, with his sheepskin coat dragging behind him. The door opened and he walked through it. It began to close, but his coat got caught in the door, and he had to reach back and yank it through. As the coat flew up, Bill thought he saw the tip of a German Sheppard’s tail and wondered if the dog had been there all along, but soon didn’t care as he saw his new neighbor, a young blonde woman in yoga pants and high heels getting into her Mercedes coupe. He tried to get her attention, but she was focused on fixing her lipstick and hair in the mirror as she drove away.
Bill settled down into his new life, got comfortable in his small house and extended cab truck, and began going out to bars and clubs, just as he had imagined. Every night there was a bar to go to filled with beautiful women, and they all were happy to let him buy drinks and chat for a while. Sometimes he would invite one or two to dance and they’d agree, and then disappear with their friends. Other times he would meet a young woman in pub and talk to her; they’d laugh and joke and maybe she would give him her number and maybe not. But he never saw the same woman twice. If he called or texted a woman, she never responded. If he asked a woman if she’d like to go somewhere for coffee she always declined and said she had to get back home.
On the rare chance that a woman did sit down and talk with him, the conversation was always the same: polite introductions, niceties, some flirtatious exchanges. He tried to talk to the beautiful women about life, what they wanted, what mattered to them, but they all just said they liked to have fun to some degree or another.
After three weeks of going to the bars and trying to talk to women, Bill got tired of going out. He stayed at home for a week, then he tried to find his neighbor again. He saw her car in the drive and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. He only ever saw her driving away.
After a couple slow weeks, he tried going out again, but it was the same routine: a few drinks, a few laughs, nothing to talk about and goodbye, never to be seen again. Bill sat in his truck in the garage and contemplated his after-life. He wiped a tear from his cheek and heard someone knocking on his front door. He let the old man in, and Bill sat down at the barstool.
“Can I take your coat?”
“No, I like to keep it on. I came by to see how you are doing?”
“This isn’t what I thought heaven would be like,” said Bill, hunched forward, hands between his legs, staring at the floor.”
“Heaven?” said the old man, looking up at Bill. “Where did you get that idea?”
“Who are you?”
The old man took off the sheepskin coat and Bill saw the gray and white fur all over his body. The gray tail dragged on the floor, and the old man’s face looked like the snout of a grey wolf.
“This is your own doing, Bill. You made the life you wanted. You’ve had two chances now. This one you are stuck with, forever. No escaping. No crying, no laying down in the back of your truck for eternal sleep. This is the eternal sleep.”
“This is hell.”
“Call it what you will.”
The wolf got down on all fours and walked to the door. “Can you let me out?”
Bill opened the door and the wolf ran outside, almost knocking over the two people walking up Bill’s sidewalk.
“What are you doing here,” he shouted at them.
“We came to see you!”
“No! Get away! Get out of here, go! Go!”
The neighbor was getting into her Mercedes and looked over to see what the yelling was about, but then looked away before she could make eye contact.
“Dad, we missed you! So, we followed you here. The old man told us how to find you! He asked us what our perfect life would be, and we told him ‘we just want to be with our Dad.’”

***
Follow u/quilandtrowel for more at Medium & Twitter. (links in bio)

Yea the title basically says it all. I’m an only child due to some medical problem at my birth, originally my parents wanted 2 kids but yea… didn’t happen because of that. They didn’t adopt one either. I’m just annoyed by them at this point, I’m 21 years old and still live with them, I work but can’t afford an apartment, hopefully that’ll change by February since I’ll get a different position at my company then and will also get more money.
My biggest problems are: they CONSTANTLY barrage me on how I should reconnect with my old friends from school but I just don’t want to, I love being alone, I don’t see a point in meeting up with them again. I do a lot of things alone, I was on vacation alone, I was on a concert alone, I do not need companionship. They also keep criticizing my clothes?? I only wear dark clothes since I feel comfortable in them, I don’t need flashy colors, they’re also annoyed by the fact that I don’t buy new clothes either but why should I? All my clothes are still in tact.
That’s just the tip of the iceberg but you get the idea.
They’re also out very often, meeting their friends, etc.
So how do I deal with that? Do I just wait it out at this point? I feel like they wouldn’t understand me anyways.

I’m on my fourth play through and I want to do as much as possible before chapter 3. What should I start with. (Also anyone have good tips on how to get money)

Hey all, looking for some feedback on our writing & newsletter in general. Here is a recent basis for an article that we published in shorter format:
Have you ever wondered why the rich get richer?
It's a common sentiment that the wealthy have an easier time getting richer. 'The rich get richer' is not just a saying, but a fundamental truth in finance. Today, we’ll take you behind the scenes to explain why the rich get richer, and specifically why your net worth takes off dramatically at the $100,000 mark.

The journey to $100,000: more than just numbers

Embarking on the path to amassing $100,000 might feel more like hiking up a financial Mount Everest. It's tough, sweat-inducing, and you might ask yourself why you didn't just just go on that 6 month backpacking trip around Europe with your friend Chaz and spring for that $27 salad at lunch instead of the bagged lunch you made with left-overs. But once you make that goal and reach that summit, the view (and the rewards) are spectacular. This initial stage requires an extreme amount of discipline, patience, and sacrifice. But once you achieve this milestone, two major financial principles kick into high gear: the scale of capital and the magic of compound interest.

The scale of capital: where your money starts working for you

Consider this: if you invest $1,000 and get a 10% return, congratulations, you've made enough for a fancy dinner ($100). But when you play the game with $100,000, that same 10% return suddenly buys a used car—or a very fancy dinner party. That's the scale of capital in action, where your money starts to do some serious heavy lifting.

The Eighth Wonder of the World: Compound Interest

Often referred to as the eighth wonder of the world, compound interest is the phenomenon where you earn interest not only on your initial investment but also on the accrued interest from previous periods. This principle causes your wealth to grow exponentially rather than linearly. For instance, once you hit that first $100,000, getting to the next $100,000 doesn't just get easier—it practically feels like your money is on a treadmill, gaining speed while you sleep. This is when you start making money in your pajamas, and honestly, who doesn’t love making money in their sleep?

The Power of Margin: Security and Opportunities

Reaching $100,000 provides what's known as 'financial margin.' This margin acts as a buffer against life’s uncertainties, giving you the freedom to choose opportunities that match your career ambitions without the immediate pressure of financial survival. This buffer is your financial fairy godmother, providing you the freedom to chase better job opportunities without the panic of imminent doom hanging over your head (it’s okay, we’ve all been there).

Tips on Accelerating Your Journey to $100,000

1. Start Early: They say the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now. Even if you can't start with a large amount, the key is to start as early as possible and take a structured approach to make your decisions stress free and automatic. Trust in the process, and you’ll be rewarded.
2. Increase Your Investment Amount: Focus on increasing how much you can invest regularly. Small increments in your investment contributions can significantly reduce the time it takes to reach your next financial milestone.
3. Set Clear Financial Goals & Celebrate Milestones: Establish specific, measurable financial goals and track your progress. When you hit a milestone, even a small one, celebrate it! This could mean a modest splurge or a simple pause to acknowledge your progress. Rewarding yourself not only makes the journey enjoyable but also keeps you motivated to chase the next goal.

Conclusion: The Path to Financial Freedom Starts Here

Getting to $100,000 is like building the first lego block of your financial empire. It’s tough, but every subsequent block snaps into place more easily than the last. This is the point in your life where you begin to be able to sit back, admire what you’ve accomplished and utilize the discipline & poise you just put on display into living your own fulfilled life.
More of our content can be found here: https://compoundinterests.beehiiv.com/
Thanks all!

Welcome to Prepping 101! Whether you're new to prepping or looking to brush up on the basics, you're in the right place. In this guide, we'll cover the fundamental concepts of prepping in simple terms, so everyone can understand.
What is Prepping?
Prepping is all about being prepared for emergencies or tough situations. It's like having a backup plan for when things don't go as expected. Preppers think ahead and get ready for things like natural disasters, power outages, or even unexpected job loss.
Why is Prepping Important?
Prepping is important because it helps keep you and your loved ones safe when things get tough. Imagine if a big storm knocks out the power for days, or if you suddenly can't go to the store for food. Prepping helps you stay calm and have what you need to get through tough times.
Basic Prepping Principles

1. Water: Water is super important! Make sure you have enough clean water stored up for drinking and cooking. Aim for at least one gallon per person per day.
2. Food: Stock up on non-perishable food items like canned goods, rice, and pasta. Don't forget a manual can opener!
3. First Aid: A basic first aid kit is a must-have. Include bandages, antiseptic wipes, and pain relievers. It's also smart to know basic first aid skills.
4. Shelter: Your home is your first shelter, but have a backup plan in case you need to leave. A tent or sleeping bags can come in handy.
5. Communication: Keep in touch with loved ones during emergencies. Have a plan for how to reach each other if phones aren't working.
6. Safety: Stay safe! Have a flashlight, extra batteries, and a whistle in case you need to signal for help.

Getting Started with Prepping
Start small and build up your supplies over time. Set aside a little bit of money each week to buy extra supplies. Make a list of what you need and check things off as you go.
Remember, prepping is all about being prepared, not scared. By taking small steps now, you can feel more confident and ready for whatever comes your way.
Stay tuned for more prepping tips and guides here on Prepping 101!

I’ve been working in customer service since I was 18 (I am in my mid twenties now), and over the last year and a half to two years I have been researching autism and I’ve come to understand that I am autistic. (I am hoping to get a professional diagnosis when I have the money)
I’ve been working at one job for a few years and I am in the secondary manager position at a cafe. It looks like my store manager wants me to become the new cafe manager. I am excited but the thing I struggle with most is actual customer service. I can do just about every other part of the job well/great. I am just struggling to keep a more friendly tone in my voice when taking care of customers.
I am also struggling with burnout and I’m just exhausted from people trying to have personal conversations with me. I was wondering if anyone had any tips on keeping a friendly tone consistent.
To be honest I’m not sure how I feel about being the next cafe manager. I think this is something I will discuss with my store manager.

Me (26F) and my boyfriend Lucas (29M) are friends with Mark and Hannah (both 30), a couple. My boyfriend and Mark are childhood friends and couldn't be closer. I've gotten close to them too since dating Lucas.
I love them, but they are victims of themselves. They live rent free in her parents extra house. They both work part time barista jobs and complain about people not tipping enough, and are CONSTANTLY, I mean CONSTANTLY, complaining about being broke and having no money. I literally cannot comprehend where their money goes. There is nothing wrong with them, they're perfectly capable of working full time jobs that will pay more than barista. They also are in credit card debt and have gone on long European and Asian vacations. Meanwhile Lucas and I work full time jobs, are diligent about saving, and live in a crappy place in order to save. We don't have help from our parents, and we NEVER complain.
They're in town and we were hanging out last night and they start complaining again about being broke and then about how only half their customers tip them. They then asked Lucas and I to pay for dinner because they're broke, and that they'll Venmo us back soon. I just recently got some crippling medical bills and kind of snapped at them. My face turned red and I said (calmly but definitely intensely) "it's really hard to listen to you complain about this when I'm busting my ass to survive. Why don't you guys get full time jobs and save more?" They looked really taken aback and mark got defensive, and he said "just because we're in a different financial situation doesn't make our struggling any less valid." I didn't say anything else but I was just so sick of them complaining to people who have it worse than them.
Afterward Lucas told me I didn't need to say anything, and I should just let it roll of my back like we usually do. I'm having a hard time, they're so tone deaf and sooo entitled. They canceled our plans for tonight and I feel really bad. AITA for being confrontational like that?

As the last orange light of day drained from the sky, the living dead in Club Vlad rose. Max the skeleton and Jessie the…not skeleton…sewed up the gaping Y-shaped incision on Dom’s chest under Merrick’s direct supervision. Dom sat there, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. He’d woken with a headache and a feeling of cold, and even now, he could feel the dull throb above his left eye. It felt like someone was tearing his brain apart with a fork. He had told Merrick, and Merrick had nodded sadly. “Is my brain rotting?”
“Most likely,” Merrick had said.
There was a certain peace in the idea of losing his cursed humanity. As Merrick had said, he would feel no pain, know no quandaries. He would live only for the night and for his master. On the other hand, watching someone like Matt sit and stare into the distance, drool coursing down his chin and nothing happening behind his dead eyes, scared Dom. He didn’t want to be a braindead idiot. He didn’t care about keeping his emotions, he just wanted to function.
Like Merrick.
There wasn’t much he could do, however. He was dead and that was the end of it.
Once Dom was patched up and dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, Merrick called his children before him. “I have done my best to love and protect all of you,” he began. “Jessie, you were miserable with your grandmother, were you not?”
“Yes,” Jessie said tonelessly.
“You were depressed, bipolar, and cut yourself. Now you’re happy.”
“Yes,” she replied again.
“Joe, you were a two bit nobody staring down a ten year stretch in jail.”
“Yes.” Thin yellow liquid dripped from his nose.
“But now you are free.”
“Yes.”
“You appreciate what I’ve done for you.”
“Yes.”
Merrick flashed then, slamming his fist onto the arm of his wheelchair. “Then why do you keep fucking up? The police were here earlier. They have messages between you and Jessie. I told both of you to delete those. Then I find out that you bit someone and turned them despite my orders. We have an endless supply of blood here but you still went off on your own. How many are there?”
“Just one,” Joe said.
“Are you being honest with me?”
“Yes.”
Merrick sagged back in his chair, looking somehow older. “Joe, take Matt and go to her. Bring her back here before she causes any more problems. God alone knows how many people she’s changed. Too many vampires without a father will bring heat on us, and you know what happens in that case? We get pieces of wood shoved in our chests.”
Turning to Dom, Merrick said, “I have a job for you and Jessie. We’re nearly out of embalming fluid. You haven’t had your first dose and the rest of us are starting to get ripe as well. I have a contact at a funeral home. He texted earlier that the order he placed on my behalf has come in. I want you to pick it up and to pay him.”
Dom had never been picked for anything in his whole life. No one had ever wanted him on their team and no one had ever placed their trust in him the way Merrick was now. He was honored, proud, and would do anything to not let Merrick down.
“That cop who came here might be a problem,” Merrick went on. “We may have to deal with him, but we’ll leave that for another night. In any case, I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. If the police come, I want them to see nothing out of the ordinary.”
Now that everyone had their marching orders, they dispersed. Merrick handed Dom an evelope stuffed with cash, and Dom slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The other team - Joe and Matt - left, while the remaining vampires began tidying up.
A fleet of vehicles waited in the parking lot behind Club Vlad. Dom and Jessie took a black pedo van with no back windows. They drove in silence, the radio off. Dom did not want to hear music, nor did he wish to speak to Jessie. Their kinship was one of blood and circumstance, not one of words and emotions. He had no questions for her and wished to answer none of his own. The only thoughts he had were of the mission ahead and of the growing pain in his skull. He thought of the staring stupid Matt, of the decayed Max, and a shiver went down his spine.
What was left of his humanity recoiled at the idea of becoming like them.
The pain grew hotter, more intense. He forced it away and focused on driving.
The funeral home was on North Allen Street, next to a restaurant called Pepperjack’s. A tall, white house with dark shutters and a sign out front, it looked like a quiet, peaceful place. “Pull around back,” Jessie said.
Dom pulled the van around back and parked under a balcony, killing the headlights. They got out and went to the back door, Jessie in the lead. He assumed that she had done this before and that the seller would recognize her. She knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened. A youngish man with a shaved head appeared, wearing an apron and gloves. He saw them and tensed a little. Dom could smell, rather than sense, his fear, and his throat panged with thirst. “Come on,” the man said quickly. He stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Dom noticed that he walked behind them, wary of putting his back to them. “Do you have the money?”
“Do you have our order?” Jessie countered.
“Yes,” the man said, “I’m really risking my neck for this. They don’t just give embalming fluid away, you know. They keep track of it and if they realize I’m over ordering, someone from the state’s going to come down here and check.”
He led them into an embalming room. Three boxes sat on a table. Dom gave the man his money, and he and Jessie carried the boxes outside, loading them into the van. The whole time they were there, the man was edgy, like he was afraid they were going to attack him. Dom would be a liar if he said that the hot smell of the man’s blood didn’t excite him. Perhaps once his brain rotted away, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but for now, he could.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through his head and he nearly dropped the last box onto the ground.
Once the man was paid, Dom and Jessie drove back to Club Vlad. In fifteen minutes, they were drinking side by side from two passed out partygoers, their reward for a job well done.
Meanwhile, across the city, Joe and Matt weren’t doing as well. They were standing outside of Heather’s apartment. Joe, slightly annoyed (anger being another emotion vampires could feel, along with fear) pounded on the door. He knew she was in there; he could smell the putrid odor of decay. “Let us in,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”
Joe could barely remember changing her. He didn’t mean to, it just…happened. Like an unwanted pregnancy. You can bite someone as much as you want and drink as much as you want, but if you take too much at once and they die, you get the vampire equivalent of a baby. Joe liked the hunt. It was exciting. Having his meals brought to him Club Vlad didn’t arouse the same level of excitement. It was like shooting an animal tied to a tree. Or hiring a prostitute instead of wooing someone. No real satisfaction to it.
That was probably his greatest downfall. He had lured Jessie the same way, though Merrick was indeed interested in rescuing her from her grandmother. People you have saved obey just as well as people with no brains.
He felt fluid on his upper lip and sniffed. “Come on, let us in,” he said.
No response.
He looked at Matt and nodded to the door. Together, they rammed their shoulders against it. It shook in its frame. They were both dead and weak, but modern American architecture is even weaker, and the door eventually slammed open. The apartment beyond was dark, messy, and reeked of death. They searched high and low, and eventually found Heather huddled in a corner, trying to hide. She was naked save for a pair of panties, her body bloated and beginning to turn black. Her skin hung from her frame and her eyes were filled with blood and fear. It was a wonder no one had called the police yet. The smell was overpowering. “We’re here to help,” he said. “You have to come with us.”
She shook her head and trembled. Maybe she remembered that he was the one who did this to her. Maybe her memories had rotted away. Those were usually the first to go. Then your emotions, then your personality. Finally, your capacity for higher reasoning. “I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. That was a lie. He was not remorseful. Nor was he proud, for that matter. It just happened. Like rain. “But I want to help you. We can fix you.”
No amount of coaxing or conjoling could induce her to move. Joe weighed his options. He doubted anyone would call the cops even if they heard the door coming down - people who lived in places like this rarely called the cops, which helped Joe and his cause immensely. Even so, there was the possibility. Every minute they spent here was a minute that something could go wrong, and Joe had a lot to lose.
So, too, did Merrick.
Giving up, Joe took out his cellphone and called Merrick. “She refuses to come,” he said simply.
The line was quiet for a moment, then Merrick’s voice came back. Cold. Calculating. “Then do what you must.”
That was the go ahead.
Hanging up, Joe looked around the apartment and found a wooden chair in the kitchen. He lifted it over his head and slammed it on the counter, shattering it into a million pieces. He selected the longest, sharpest, and sturdiest looking one. He went back into the room and directed Matt to hold her down. She fought, kicked, and spat, but she was weaker than even they were. They had been embalmed. She hadn’t.
Matt pinned her hands above her head and Joe straddled her. Animal terror filled her eyes and she whipped her head from side to side. Joe lifted the makeshift stake with both hands, and brought it down as hard as he could, driving it deep into her heart. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and a high, otherworldly scream ripped from her throat. She bucked, thrashed, and kicked her feet. Her resistance began to ebb away until she was twitching…until she was still.
Heather from OKCupid was dead.
Truly dead.
Joe couldn’t help wondering what it was like.
Pulling the stake out, he tossed it aside and got to his feet, Matt doing likewise. A soul petrifying scream might be cause for even the tightest of lips to start talking. “Let’s go,” he said. And together, he and Matt fled, leaving the poor, dead body of Heather behind.
***
As it turned out, one of Heather’s neighbors did call the cops. At 10;13pm, Vanessa Rodregiez arrived with two patrolmen and found the front door of Apartment 237 knocked down. Guns drawn, they entered, Vanessa at the head. The first thing she noticed was the smell. It jammed itself into her nostrils, shoved its tongue down her throat, and violated her - all without even buying her dinner first.
Vanessa hadn’t been at this as long as her buddy Bruce had, but she knew a dead, rotting body when she smelled one. They searched the premises, and sure enough, they found a vic in the bedroom, lying in the gap between the bed and the wall; it looked like the former had been moved, perhaps in a struggle. Vanessa knelt down to check the vic’s pulse, but stopped.
There was no need.
The vic - who looked like a female but could have been an overweight male - hadn’t had a pulse in a very long time.
Examining the body, Vanessa found a wound in the chest, just above the heart. Black, stinking goo leaked from it, and Vanessa gagged. She fisted her hand to her mouth, retched, and then ran for the kitchen sink. Her partner for the night, Jim Walsh, stared down at the stiff before him, and his face turned a sickly shade of green. He avoided puking because he didn’t nose fuck the wound like Vanessa had, but he wasted no time in getting out there, dry heaving in the hallway where the air was somewhat fresh.
After leaving her lunch in the sink, Vanessa radioed back to headquarters, and before long, the place was crawling with cops. The assistant medical examiner - who had taken over after Ed Harris quit the previous night - knelt over the body and studied it. A solidly built black man with a mustache, his name was Leon and he knew death just as well as his old boss, so when he said the vic had been dead nearly two weeks, Vanessa accepted it.
That begged the question: Who broke in and screamed just now? A relative? The caller clearly heard screaming and peeked out her door to see two males fleeing on foot. Maybe they found the vic and freaked out? Or maybe they were the killers returning to the scene of the crime. After all, the vic had clearly been murdered.
In fact, they found a likely murder weapon. A long sliver of wood soaked in black goo. Blood turns black after a while, but there was something different about this stuff. “What is it?” Vanessa asked Leon.
“I’m not sure,” Leon said and pulled off a pair of Latex gloves he’d donned to examine the vic, “could be blood or…”
“Or what?” Vanessa asked.
“Or something,” Leon said. “Give me a few hours.”
And a few hours it was. Just before 1am, Leon called Vanessa at her desk. “I think you should come down here,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa stood over Leon as he pulled the vic’s chest open with a pair of tweezers. “That’s the heart,” he said, “whoever stabbed her scored a direct hit, but this…this is what concerns me.”
He prodded a furry lump with the tip of his scalpel.
“What is it?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, “it looks like mold.”
That word - mold - triggered a memory in her brain. “Ed said something about mold last night. He found it in -”
“The Mason boy,” Leon finished.
“Yeah. The one who got up and ran off.”
Leon turned away from Vanessa and looked at the dead woman - for it was a woman. Vanessa got the impression that he didn’t want her to see his expression. “I’ve known Ed ten years. I know something happened last night, but a stiff getting up and walking off? I thought he was confused. Now…I don’t know. That makes two bodies in 24 hours. And get this. The chest wound? It was done post-mortem. I can’t find a cause of death anywhere. Except maybe blood loss but it’s hard to tell at this point. And speaking of blood…”
“What?” Vanessa asked quickly.
“When I opened her stomach up, a whole shit load of blood spilled out. And a lot of it was a lot fresher than she is.”
Vanessa furrowed her brow in confusion. “You mean…?”
“It’s not hers,” Leon said. “I can’t be 100 percent sure until I run tests, but I’d put money on it.”
Vanessa’s head spun with information both new and old. You know that full, heavy feeling you get when a poo is brewing in your guts? That’s kind of what Vanessa was feeling, only in her head instead of her stomach.
Leon was just as mystified by the whole thing as she was and stayed up late to run a few preliminary tests. By sunrise, he had confirmed that the blood inside of Heather’s stomach was not hers. In fact, it had come from at least three different sources. “Is it human?” Vanessa asked over the phone.
“Yes,” Leon said, sounding troubled, “it’s human.”
In the cobalt hour before sunrise, Vanessa sat at her desk and tried to piece this whole thing together. They had:

1. A corpse that (allegedly) woke up and dipped out
2. A dead girl who’d been stabbed in the heart with a piece of wood after somehow ingesting the blood of three different people.
3. Some missing kids
4. Oh, and both bodies - the girl’s and the runaway corpses’ - had the same weird fungus in their heart cavities.

All of this - even the missing kids, Vanessa felt - was related. She just didn’t know how. The only answer that half way fit was that both of those bodies were vampires. Like…what’s a vampire but a dead body that gets up and walks around at night? And how do you kill a vampire? Why, you drive a piece of wood through its heart.
The idea that vampires were real was dumb, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she became convinced that it was at least an option. A lot of things people thought were fantastic and made up turned out to be real, so why not vampires too?
Shortly after 8, Bruce came in. He was just sitting down when Vanessa came in and slapped her report on the desk. “Buckle up, bitch,” she said, “things just got weirder.”
He stared up at her with one of those grumpy - but cute -expressions he was so good at putting on. As he read, however, his brow knitted. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh.
“I have a theory - kind of,” Vanessa said, “but I don’t want to say it.”
“You might as well,” Bruce said. “It can’t be more kooky than reality these days.”
“Okay,” Vanessa started, “what if - and I’m just thinking out loud here - what if there are vampires in Albany?”
She expected Bruce to give her a dirty look, but he chewed it over, actually taking it seriously. “And those missing boys are victims?” he asked finally.
“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “That girl’s been dead two weeks. Maybe she bit Dominick Mason and he came back for revenge after realizing he was cursed to be a goddamn shit sucking vampire forever.”
Bruce nodded. “Yeah, but who turned her?”
“I don’t know,” Vanessa said, “I don’t know.”
***
Before dawn painted the eastern sky, Merrick Garvis sat in his chamber like a withered king, a mess of IVs hooked into his arms and neck. The vault was silent save for the soft noise of the machines as they filtered out the old embalming fluid and replaced it with new embalming fluid. Embalming fluid always made him spacy, like a drug. The others had gone first, and even now lay near comatose around him like addicts in an opium den.
As far as he knew, Merrick was the oldest vampire in the world, perhaps, even, the oldest vampire to ever live. Though he was not fully honest with Dom, he was not lying when he said that vampires rotted like any other dead thing. Conditions considered, you had a few weeks tops if left untreated. There may be living vampires in remote corners of Egypt or the northern most reaches of Russia, where the climate preserved dead things, but unless you made it to one of those places, you were pretty well fucked.
Merrick was not a proud man, nor was he concerned with saving face - the dead have no need for that. He was being truthful when he said that he feared death. What’s more, he feared being helpless. Deep down, vampires are people, and people don’t exactly have the greatest track record with caring for their infirm. He read once that the first sign of a civilization was a broken leg that had healed, as it showed that someone stayed with and cared for a fellow human long enough for them to get well again. In Merrick’s opinion, that was true…and thus there was no civilization. Merrick was fifty-one when he died in the year 1982. In his lifetime, he had seen The Great Depression, World War II, and a million small acts of cruelty and selfishness in between. He’d seen beggars starving in the streets, abused children shuffled out of sight and out of mind, and disdain for the poor and the weak.
The living were awful, and the living dead were no different. Once their humanity rotted away, they cared only about filling their stomachs. They were like ticks - they would drink until their bellies literally ruptured…and then keep on drinking.
That left him in a precarious position. He was old, his body was weak. He couldn’t stand unassisted and if left to fend for himself, he would decay into a pile of bones within days. He would be cursed to lay in one spot for all eternity, aware and hungry, little more than a ghost tethered to a black and still beating heart.
He refused to let that happen to him. Thus, he had created a family, a clan of vampires loyal to him and to him alone. He did this through acts of simple kindness and understanding…but also through deception. He knew, for instance, how to preserve the brain. He’d figured out how to do it early on - you pickle it. Like a fetus preserved in a jar. He sawed off the top of his own head and filled it with a special solution that kept his brain - and his intelligence - intact. It slowly drained out through the nose and ears in a thin, yellow liquid, but it worked well enough. He couldn’t save everything, however, and had lost vital things in the process, such as most of his human memories, his sense of humor, and some motor functions. He shared this secret with only Joe, and a few others before, because he needed a strong captain. He kept the others in the dark because vampires - like people - are easier to control when they don’t think for themselves.
Right about now, however, Merrick was beginning to regret sharing the formula with even Joe. Joe had brought him nothing but grief. Joe, you see, could think for himself. He could make decisions. He could go behind Merrick’s back. Joe had something called free will, and free will is a worse affliction than vampirism. Free will is messy, free will is dangerous.
Free will could very well turn Merrick into a pile of bones.
That was, of course, if they weren’t discovered first. Joe had made several mistakes lately, not least of which was the turning of Heather. Sitting there in the predawn hour, attended by Tony, his gay bartender and human familiar, Merrick decided to have Joe killed. There are only two ways to kill a vampire: The stake and the flame. The latter seemed somehow appropriate in this case. After Joe, there would be no more captains, only him, one father with absolute power. That was how it had to be. One man, one vision. Democracies didn’t work. That was especially clear today. Everyone was so divided and nothing ever got done. If the humans had one strong leader, they might go in the wrong direction, but at least they would go somewhere. Instead, they stagnated.
Merrick didn’t particularly look forward to killing Joe, but it had to be done. To protect the family. To protect him.
And Merrick would do anything…anything at all…to protect himself.
***
Vampires.
Bruce kept coming back to that single wor, hoping each time that he would chuckle at the absurdity of it.
But he never did.
Did that mean he believed it? Not necessarily, but damn it, he considered it a possibility, and that alone was enough to make him feel like a fucking clown. All the evidence he had pointed to vampires, but then again, it might point to other things as well. Like aliens.
But let’s say the whole vampire thing was real. Who, like Vanessa asked, was patient zero? Who started this whole mess?
A name came to mind.
Merrick Garvis.
He had not had time to check into Garvis the previous day, but by God, he was going to do it now. He ran his name and social through the system and everything seemed to check out. Merrick Garvis was born on June 31, 1963 in -
Wait a minute. Weren’t there only 30 days in June?
Bruce checked, and there were, indeed, only 30 days in the month of June. Hm. Bruce did a little digging and found something out. Before 1987, social security numbers weren’t issued at birth. You had to sign up, using other forms of ID. Merrick Garvis applied for his in April 1984 and the date of birth on his state issued driver’s license was June 31. Bruce spent an hour on the phone with the DMV and learned that they had never issued a license to a Merrick Garvis. He then spoke to the Social Security Administration, and after much wrangling and frustration, he managed to get a photocopy of the license Garvis used to get his social security number. It was dated 1983.
The face staring back at him was almost exactly the same face he’d seen at Club Vlad, except maybe a touch less stiff and waxy. Though not as rough looking, there was no way in hell Garvis was 20 in that picture. It had to be a fake,
Bruce thought back to the events of the previous two days. Missing bodies, staked corpses, hearts that still beat after death.
Vampires didn’t seem like such a crazy explanation.
And if anyone was a fucking vampire around here, it was Merrick Garvis.

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