Can you tell me a Joke?....

 a..Mike and girlfriend’s father

    

    G.f Father(dheerganga): yentha premisthunavu nuvvu na kuthurne?

      Mike: “Pranam kantey yekkuvaga uncle!”

       G.f father: pranalu evagal guthava thanakosamu:?

       Mike(chalakega): Haa esthanu! Kani adey naatho pellicheyinchakuntey, mee enti panimanishi neeku pinni avuthundhani mee kuthrke velli chepistha.

Father shock ayi sofa thana towel tho clean chesi

G.f father: Korchondi alludu garu.

Ani father mike kaalu massage chesthadu.

b. Wife and Husband

         Mike as Husband

    News paper chaduvuthu

    Mike: Sonu! my love nenu ninnu chala premisthunanu!

      wife(kopamnga): antey enti! Nenu memalne preminchadamledha?

                                 Nenu meekosam e prapancham tho roju ke 10 sarlaina godavapadathanu

    Mike(ashcharyainga):Kani roju nuvvu natho godavapadthavu kadhey?

        Wife: meerey na prapancham kadandi !

      Mike shocks!

c. Wife and husband

   Joe as Husband

  Joe oka story book chaduvuthu untadu, wife ellu oodusthu(broom stick) degarke vachi

  Wife(aashaga): yentha baagunduno! Nenu mee chethilo una book ayi untey aalagaina mee choopulu mee dhaynam naa meedha undeydhi!

Joe book chaduvuthuney paper turn chesthu

Joe: Naaku yentha baagundeno! Nuvvu calender ayi untey prathi sanvasthtram(year) maarusthu(change)  undey vadine.

Wife akkadey chipiritho naresh ne kodthundhi

d.Teacher and student 

   Diesel as student

Diesel naresh homework book chusthu

Teacher(kopanmga): ninna neeku kukka(doga) meedha vyasam rayamantey yendhukura rayaledhu?

Diesel : Antey! Raadhamanuku teacher, adento kukka meedha kurchoganey kukka nannu karichi paripoindhe

Teacher(kopamnga): oreyyyyyyy! yedava bayatake pora.

e. Diesel and random girl

      Naresh road meedha nadusthu velthu oka girl ne chusi degarke velthadu

      Naresh: Hello!

Girl mokam thepisthundhi

Diesel Mari antha pose yendhuklendi, simple ga oka question adugutha chepuko chudham

Girl: haa addukoo!

Diessel : “I Love You ” antey telugu lo ardham anti

Girl: Nennu ninnu premisthunanu

Diesel: ohhhh please naaku girlfriend undhi, ela road meedha yevadu kanipesthey vaadike nenu ninnu premisthuna antava ela addukovadanike sigguledhu

Ani chepi collar yegeresthu velipothadu

Girl shock tho mouth open chesi undi pothundhi.

Tired Love💔

 You where walking along the dull lit street at 9:45 pm thinking to yourself how things could get better from the love you can't seem to find, It never went your way unlike your brother as everyone drools over him, even though you don't think his that cute you still love him because he keeps you going because of the love that he shows you and the encouragement like "I know there is someone out there for you and he is waiting so will you go find him?" If there where an award for best brother it would belong to him for sure I'm confident of it plus could any brother really be as great as him? You come to an abrupt stop as you hit you head on something solid so you look up.

It was a Metal pole and if your luck couldn't get any worst it starts to rain it got heavier and heavier and then you heard it....THUNDER, it was as if the sky was angry at you as it kept smashing together, so you started to run fast to your house as it was 3 blocks away, you where heaving and huffing when you got under the roof of the porch so you knocked on the door. Your brother came out to see you drenched and shivering from the rain you quickly run inside as you need to warm up and have a shower so you can hopefully prevent a cold from happening, you strip your cloths than you hop in the shower and turn on the hot tap then the cold tap so it's the perfect temperature, when you finish your shower you get dressed, You leap into your bed and wrap yourself in your warm blankets.

In their morning you sit on you bed waiting for the slightest bit of hope for today so you might meet him, after sitting there for a few minutes you decide to get up and have a shower then to eat breakfast, after your shower you walk down stairs walking towards the kitchen to start cooking some eggs and toast with bacon, after cooking and prepping the food you call your brother down to eat his breakfast so you can leave and hopefully find who you are looking for.

You pick your lambo and drive around town to see what you would like to do today, as you pass a lybrey you decide to park and go in as they have some good books there, as you are walking and looking at books minding your own business you bump into something or someone, you look up see a beautiful and kind looking boy, you scan his features see his amazing brown orbs pale but soft skin and a deep dirty blond hair he is quite tall as well, you notice you have been looking at him for to long snapping out of your trance you look at him in the eyes apologizeing for bumping into him,

He looks down at you and has a soft smile spread across the beautiful features on his face and you are just completely in awe you think to yourself (HOW DOES SUCH A BEAUTIFUL PERSON EXIST??? He must already be taken...) The boy that you are zoned out on speaks saying "Oh, sorry miss, I wasn't looking where I was going... Would you like to have a coffee with me as a apologie?" You snap back into the world and answer his question "I would love to ermm....." Sam he replays " I would love to Sam".

A Story

 I loved paging through my mother’s childhood copy of this book when I was a kid. Andrew Lang created 12 collections of fairytales for children from 1889 to 1910. This is the first one, with familiar retellings of Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Sleeping Beauty, Puss in Boots, Bluebeard, and may more. Because it was the first book in the series, it has some of the most well known fairytales borrowing from the Grimm brothers, Madame d’Aulnoy, and the Arabian Nights tales. The future books all are named after colors They are all available under public domain as well.

EAST OF THE SUN AND WEST OF THE MOON: OLD TALES FROM THE NORTH 

This collection of Nordic and Norweigan tales was first published in 1914. It includes The Three Billy Goats Gruff, the famous title story, and less well-known fairytales from the region. While the stories can be a little repetitive, the illustrations in this edition are so haunting and beautiful. I feel like a broken record, but again — different translators from different editions may be in or out of the public domain. But the stories and images have been in the public domain for some time.

Animals Rescue

 The pup spent over two hours in the car without ventilation.

One month after being saved from a hot car by New York police, this grateful pooch has a new forever home with one of the officers who saved him.
On June 18, officers from NYPD's 19th Precinct responded to a call about a dog locked in a parked car. By the time officers arrived, the pup had been in the vehicle for an estimated two hours.
Temperatures can soar inside parked vehicles and with that day's temps hovering around 85 degrees, the interior of the car could've hit over 120 degrees after an hour. Soon after arriving, NYPD officers decided to rescue the floofy white doggo.

RELATED: The Do's and Don'ts of Helping Dogs in Hot Cars

"Thanks to caring NYers who saw this pup locked in a car for over 2 hours & called 911," the 19th Precinct's tweet reads. "Our cops responded discovering the car off, windows shut & distressed dog. They broke the window, got pup out & off to a vet for care. Criminal investigation continues."

A veterinarian deemed the dog healthy, and the pup didn't return to the owner of the vehicle, a 26-year old man who was charged with one count of animal cruelty. Instead, the good boi was handed over to the ASPCA and made ready for adoption. He didn't wait very long: Officer Aruna Maharaj, one of the 19th Precinct officers who saved the pup, quickly stepped up and took the happy pupper home.

  RELATED: Shiva Was Left in a Hot Car. Now She's Fear-Free With Her New Family

"This pup will never be neglected again," the 19th Precinct said in its July 22 tweet about the adoption. "Thank you @ASPCA for taking such good care of this lucky pup!"

While the temptation to take matters in your own hands and help an animal trapped in a hot car can be strong, the Humane Society of the United States recommends calling the authorities to get assistance for the animal without exposing yourself to potential liability or injury. And, as always, if you need to go anywhere on a warm day that your doggo can't come inside with you, finding a way to leave them home is the best option.

RELATED: The Do's and Don'ts of Helping Dogs in Hot Cars

"Thanks to caring NYers who saw this pup locked in a car for over 2 hours & called 911," the 19th Precinct's tweet reads. "Our cops responded discovering the car off, windows shut & distressed dog. They broke the window, got pup out & off to a vet for care. Criminal investigation continues."
A veterinarian deemed the dog healthy, and the pup didn't return to the owner of the vehicle, a 26-year old man who was charged with one count of animal cruelty. Instead, the good boi was handed over to the ASPCA and made ready for adoption. He didn't wait very long: Officer Aruna Maharaj, one of the 19th Precinct officers who saved the pup, quickly stepped up and took the happy pupper home.

Good Samaritans and firefighters. Our favorite people!

New York City firefighters rescued a dog that had been cruelly tossed from a bridge into the Harlem River and helped bring a terrible story to a happy conclusion.

On the afternoon of July 19, people witnessed the sweet-faced, brown-and-tan dog get thrown from a bridge into the river below. A fast acting good Samaritan jumped into the river and helped keep the pup afloat while others called 911. FDNY rushed onto the scene with a marine unit and pulled the doggo safely onto the fireboat.

 Dreams

  Dreams can be entertaining, disturbing, or downright bizarre. We all dream, even if we don't remember it the next day.

What Are Dreams?

Dreams are basically stories and images that our mind creates while we sleep. They can be vivid. They can make you feel happy, sad, or scared. And they may seem confusing or perfectly rational.

Dreams can happen at any time during sleep. But you have your most vivid dreams during a phase called REM (rapid eye movement) sleep, when your brain is most active. Some experts say we dream at least four to six times a night.

Nightmares

A nightmare is a bad dream. It’s common in both children and adults. Often, it happens because of:

• Stress, conflict, and fear
• Trauma
• Emotional problems
• Medication or drug use
• Illness

Why Do We Dream?

There are many theories about why we dream, but no one knows for sure. Some researchers say dreams have no purpose or meaning. Others say we need dreams for our mental, emotional, and physical health.

How Long Do Dreams Last?

REM sleep lasts only a few minutes early in the night but gets longer as we sleep. Later in the night, it might last more than 30 minutes. So you might spend half an hour in a single dream.

Why Are Dreams Hard to Remember?

Researchers don't know for sure why dreams are easily forgotten. Maybe we’re designed to forget our dreams because if we remembered them all, we might not be able to tell dreams from real memories.

Also, it could be harder to remember dreams because during REM sleep, our body may shut down systems in our brain that create memories. We may remember only those dreams that happen just before we wake, when certain brain activities are turned back on.

Some say it’s not that our minds forget dreams but that we don't know how to access them. Dreams may be stored in our memory, waiting to be recalled. This may explain why you suddenly remember a dream later in the day: Something may have happened to trigger the memory.

Remind yourself to remember. If you make a decision to remember your dreams, you’re more likely to remember them in the morning. Before you go to sleep, remind yourself that you want to remember your dream.

Fast facts on dreams

We may not remember dreaming, but everyone is thought to dream between 3 and 6 times per night

It is thought that each dream lasts between 5 to 20 minutes.

Around 95 percent of dreams are forgotten by the time a person gets out of bed.

Dreaming can help you learn and develop long-term memories.

Blind people dream more with other sensory components compared with sighted people.

Interpretations:

What goes through our minds just before we fall asleep could affect the content of our dreams.

For example, during exam time, students may dream about course content. People in a relationship may dream of their partner. Web developers may see programming code.

These circumstantial observations suggest that elements from the everyday re-emerge in dream-like imagery during the transition from wakefulness to sleep.

Memories:

The concept of ‘repression’ dates back to Freud. Freud maintained that undesirable memories could become suppressed in the mind. Dreams ease repression by allowing these memories to be reinstated.

A study showed that sleep does not helpTrusted Source people forget unwanted memories. Instead, REM sleep might even counteract the voluntary suppression of memories, making them more accessible for retrieval.

Two types of temporal effects characterize the incorporation of memories into dreams:

the day-residue effect, involving immediate incorporations of events from the preceding day

the dream-lag effect, involving incorporations delayed by about a week.

Dream lag:

Dream-lag is when the images, experiences, or people that emerge in dreams are images, experiences, or people you have seen recently, perhaps the previous day or a week before.

The idea is that certain types of experiences take a week to become encoded into long-term memory, and some of the images from the consolidation process will appear in a dream.

Events experienced while awake are said to feature in 1 to 2 percent of dream reports, although 65 percent of dream reports reflect aspects of recent waking life experiences.

Dreams and the senses:

Dreams were evaluated in people experiencing different types of headache. Results showed people with migraine had increased frequency of dreams involving taste and smell.

This may suggest Trusted Source that the role of some cerebral structures, such as amygdala and hypothalamus, are involved in migraine mechanisms as well as in the biology of sleep and dreaming.

Music in dreams is rarely studied in scientific literature. However, in a study of 35 professional musicians and 30 non-musicians, the musicians experiencedTrusted Source twice as many dreams featuring music, when compared with non-musicians.

Musical dream frequency was related to the age of commencement of musical instruction but not to the daily load of musical activity. Nearly half of the recalled music was non-standard, suggesting that original music can be created in dreams.

Half-Light

Miss Bruss, the perfect secretary, received Nona Manford at the door of her mother’s boudoir (“the office,” Mrs. Manford’s children called it) with a gesture of the kindliest denial. “She wants to, you know, dear—your mother always wants to see you,” pleaded Maisie Bruss, in a voice which seemed to be thinned and sharpened by continuous telephoning. Miss Bruss, attached to Mrs. Manford’s service since shortly after the latter’s second marriage, had known Nona from her childhood, and was privileged, even now that she was “out,” to treat her with a certain benevolent familiarity—benevolence being the note of the Manford household.                                                                                           

                                                                                                                               “But look at her list—just for this morning!” the secretary continued, handing over a tall morocco-framed tablet, on which was inscribed, in the colourless secretarial hand: “7.30 Mental uplift. 7.45 Breakfast. 8. Psycho-analysis. 8.15 See cook. 8.30 Silent Meditation. 8.45 Facial massage. 9. Man with Persian miniatures. 9.15 Correspondence. 9.30 Manicure. 9.45 Eurythmic exercises. 10. Hair waved. 10.15 Sit for bust. 10.30 Receive Mothers’ Day deputation. 11. Dancing lesson. 11.30 Birth Control committee at Mrs.—” “The manicure is there now, late as usual. That’s what martyrizes your mother; everybody’s being so unpunctual. This New York life is killing her.” “I’m not unpunctual,” said Nona Manford, leaning in the doorway. “No; and a miracle, too! The way you girls keep up your dancing all night. You and Lita—what times you two do have!” Miss Bruss was becoming almost maternal. “But just run your eye down that list—. You see your mother didn’t expect to see you before lunch; now did she?” Nona shook her head. “No; but you might perhaps squeeze me in.” It was said in a friendly, a reasonable tone; on both sides the matter was being examined with an evident desire for impartiality and good-will. Nona was used to her mother’s engagements; used to being squeezed in between faith-healers, art-dealers, social service workers and manicures.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        When Mrs. Manford did see her children she was perfect to them; but in this killing New York life, with its ever-multiplying duties and responsibilities, if her family had been allowed to tumble in at all hours and devour her time, her nervous system simply couldn’t have stood it—and how many duties would have been left undone! Mrs. Manford’s motto had always been: “There’s a time for everything.” But there were moments when this optimistic view failed her, and she began to think there wasn’t. This morning, for instance, as Miss Bruss pointed out, she had had to tell the new French sculptor who had been all the rage in New York for the last month that she wouldn’t be able to sit to him for more than fifteen minutes, on account of the Birth Control committee meeting at 11.30 at Mrs.— Nona seldom assisted at these meetings, her own time being—through force of habit rather than real inclination—so fully taken up with exercise, athletics and the ceaseless rush from thrill to thrill which was supposed to be the happy privilege of youth. But she had had glimpses enough of the scene: of the audience of bright elderly women, with snowy hair, eurythmic movements, and finely-wrinkled over-massaged faces on which a smile of glassy benevolence sat like their rimless pince-nez.                                                                                                                                                                 They were all inexorably earnest, aimlessly kind and fathomlessly pure; and all rather too well-dressed, except the “prominent woman” of the occasion, who usually wore dowdy clothes, and had steel-rimmed spectacles and straggling wisps of hair. Whatever the question dealt with, these ladies always seemed to be the same, and always advocated with equal zeal Birth Control and unlimited maternity, free love or the return to the traditions of the American home; and neither they nor Mrs. Manford seemed aware that there was anything contradictory in these doctrines.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             All they knew was that they were determined to force certain persons to do things that those persons preferred not to do. Nona, glancing down the serried list, recalled a saying of her mother’s former husband, Arthur Wyant: “Your mother and her friends would like to teach the whole world how to say its prayers and brush its teeth.” The girl had laughed, as she could never help laughing at Wyant’s sallies; but in reality she admired her mother’s zeal, though she sometimes wondered if it were not a little too promiscuous.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Nona was the daughter of Mrs. Manford’s second marriage, and her own father, Dexter Manford, who had had to make his way in the world, had taught her to revere activity as a virtue in itself; his tone in speaking of Pauline’s zeal was very different from Wyant’s. He had been brought up to think there was a virtue in work per se, even if it served no more useful purpose than the revolving of a squirrel in a wheel. “Perhaps your mother tries to cover too much ground; but it’s very fine of her, you know—she never spares herself.” “Nor us!” Nona sometimes felt tempted to add; but Manford’s admiration was contagious. Yes; Nona did admire her mother’s altruistic energy; but she knew well enough that neither she nor her brother’s wife Lita would ever follow such an example—she no more than Lita. They belonged to another generation: to the bewildered disenchanted young people who had grown up since the Great War, whose energies were more spasmodic and less definitely directed, and who, above all, wanted a more personal outlet for them.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  “Bother earthquakes in Bolivia!” Lita had once whispered to Nona, when Mrs. Manford had convoked the bright elderly women to deal with a seismic disaster at the other end of the world, the repetition of which these ladies somehow felt could be avoided if they sent out a commission immediately to teach the Bolivians to do something they didn’t want to do—not to believe in earthquakes, for instance. The young people certainly felt no corresponding desire to set the houses of others in order. Why shouldn’t the Bolivians have earthquakes if they chose to live in Bolivia? And why must Pauline Manford lie awake over it in New York, and have to learn a new set of Mahatma exercises to dispel the resulting wrinkles? “I suppose if we feel like that it’s really because we’re too lazy to care,” Nona reflected, with her incorrigible honesty. She turned from Miss Bruss with a slight shrug. “Oh, well,” she murmured. “You know, pet,” Miss Bruss volunteered, “things always get worse as the season goes on; and the last fortnight in February is the worst of all, especially with Easter coming as early as it does this year. I never could see why they picked out such an awkward date for Easter: perhaps those Florida hotel people did it.                                                                                                           Why, your poor mother wasn’t even able to see your father this morning before he went down town, though she thinks it’s all wrong to let him go off to his office like that, without finding time for a quiet little chat first…Just a cheery word to put him in the right mood for the day…Oh, by the way, my dear, I wonder if you happen to have heard him say if he’s dining at home tonight? Because you know he never does remember to leave word about his plans, and if he hasn’t, I’d better telephone to the office to remind him that it’s the night of the big dinner for the Marchesa—” “Well, I don’t think father’s dining at home,” said the girl indifferently. “Not—not—not? Oh, my gracious!” clucked Miss Bruss, dashing across the room to the telephone on her own private desk.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           The engagement-list had slipped from her hands, and Nona Manford, picking it up, ran her glance over it. She read: “4 P.M. See A.—4.30 P.M. Musical: Torfried Lobb.” “4 P.M. See A.” Nona had been almost sure it was Mrs. Manford’s day for going to see her divorced husband, Arthur Wyant, the effaced mysterious person always designated on Mrs. Manford’s lists as “A,” and hence known to her children as “Exhibit A.”                                                                                                                                                                 It was rather a bore, for Nona had meant to go and see him herself at about that hour, and she always timed her visits so that they should not clash with Mrs. Manford’s, not because the latter disapproved of Nona’s friendship with Arthur Wyant (she thought it “beautiful” of the girl to show him so much kindness), but because Wyant and Nona were agreed that on these occasions the presence of the former Mrs. Wyant spoilt their fun. But there was nothing to do about it. Mrs. Manford’s plans were unchangeable. Even illness and death barely caused a ripple in them. One might as well have tried to bring down one of the Pyramids by poking it with a parasol as attempt to disarrange the close mosaic of Mrs. Manford’s engagement-list. Mrs. Manford herself couldn’t have done it; not with the best will in the world; and Mrs. Manford’s will, as her children and all her household knew, was the best in the world. Nona Manford moved away with a final shrug. She had wanted to speak to her mother about something rather important; something she had caught a startled glimpse of, the evening before, in the queer little half-formed mind of her sister-in-law Lita, the wife of her half-brother Jim Wyant—the Lita with whom, as Miss Bruss remarked, she, Nona, danced away the nights.                                                                                                                                There was nobody on earth as dear to Nona as that same Jim, her elder by six or seven years, and who had been brother, comrade, guardian, almost father to her—her own father, Dexter Manford, who was so clever, capable and kind, being almost always too busy at the office, or too firmly requisitioned by Mrs. Manford, when he was at home, to be able to spare much time for his daughter. Jim, bless him, always had time; no doubt that was what his mother meant when she called him lazy—as lazy as his father, she had once added, with one of her rare flashes of impatience. Nothing so conduced to impatience in Mrs. Manford as the thought of anybody’s having the least fraction of unapportioned time and not immediately planning to do something with it. If only they could have given it to her ! And Jim, who loved and admired her (as all her family did) was always conscientiously trying to fill his days, or to conceal from her their occasional vacuity.                                                                                                                                                                                                           But he had a way of not being in a hurry, and this had been all to the good for little Nona, who could always count on him to ride or walk with her, to slip off with her to a concert or a “movie,” or, more pleasantly still, just to be there —idling in the big untenanted library of Cedarledge, the place in the country, or in his untidy study on the third floor of the town house, and ready to answer questions, help her to look up hard words in dictionaries, mend her golf-sticks, or get a thorn out of her Sealyham’s paw. Jim was wonderful with his hands: he could repair clocks, start up mechanical toys, make fascinating models of houses or gardens, apply a tourniquet, scramble eggs, mimic his mother’s visitors—preferably the “earnest” ones who held forth about “causes” or “messages” in her gilded drawing-rooms—and make delicious coloured maps of imaginary continents, concerning which Nona wrote interminable stories. And of all these gifts he had, alas, made no particular use as yet—except to enchant his little half-sister. It had been just the same, Nona knew, with his father: poor useless “Exhibit A”! Mrs. Manford said it was their “old New York blood”—she spoke of them with mingled contempt and pride, as if they were the last of the Capetians, exhausted by a thousand years of sovereignty.                                                                                                               Her own red corpuscles were tinged with a more plebeian dye. Her progenitors had mined in Pennsylvania and made bicycles at Exploit, and now gave their name to one of the most popular automobiles in the United States. Not that other ingredients were lacking in her hereditary make-up: her mother was said to have contributed southern gentility by being a Pascal of Tallahassee. Mrs. Manford, in certain moods, spoke of “The Pascals of Tallahassee” as if they accounted for all that was noblest in her; but when she was exhorting Jim to action it was her father’s blood that she invoked. “After all, in spite of the Pascal tradition, there is no shame in being in trade. My father’s father came over from Scotland with two sixpences in his pocket…” and Mrs. Manford would glance with pardonable pride at the glorious Gainsborough over the dining-room mantelpiece (which she sometimes almost mistook for an ancestral portrait), and at her healthy handsome family sitting about the dinner-table laden with Georgian silver and orchids from her own hot-houses. From the threshold, Nona called back to Miss Bruss: “Please tell mother I shall probably be lunching with Jim and Lita—” but Miss Bruss was passionately saying to an unseen interlocutor: “Oh, but Mr. Rigley, but you must make Mr. Manford understand that Mrs. Manford counts on him for dinner this evening…                                                                                                                                                                                        The dinner-dance for the Marchesa, you know…” — The marriage of her half-brother had been Nona Manford’s first real sorrow. Not that she had disapproved of his choice: how could any one take that funny irresponsible little Lita Cliffe seriously enough to disapprove of her? The sisters-in-law were soon the best of friends; if Nona had a fault to find with Lita, it was that she didn’t worship the incomparable Jim as blindly as his sister did. But then Lita was made to be worshipped, not to worship; that was manifest in the calm gaze of her long narrow nut-coloured eyes, in the hieratic fixity of her lovely smile, in the very shape of her hands, so slim yet dimpled, hands which had never grown up, and which drooped from her wrists as if listlessly waiting to be kissed, or lay like rare shells or upcurved magnolia-petals on the cushions luxuriously piled about her indolent body. The Jim Wyants had been married for nearly two years now; the baby was six months old; the pair were beginning to be regarded as one of the “old couples” of their set, one of the settled landmarks in the matrimonial quicksands of New York. Nona’s love for her brother was too disinterested for her not to rejoice in this: above all things she wanted her old Jim to be happy, and happy she was sure he was—or had been until lately. The mere getting away from Mrs. Manford’s iron rule had been a greater relief than he himself perhaps guessed. And then he was still the foremost of Lita’s worshippers; still enchanted by the childish whims, the unpunctuality, the irresponsibility, which made life with her such a thrillingly unsettled business after the clock-work routine of his mother’s perfect establishment. All this Nona rejoiced in; but she ached at times with the loneliness of the perfect establishment, now that Jim, its one disturbing element, had left. Jim guessed her loneliness, she was sure: it was he who encouraged the growing intimacy between his wife and his half-sister, and tried to make the latter feel that his house was another home to her. Lita had always been amiably disposed toward Nona.                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The two, though so fundamentally different, were nearly of an age, and united by the prevailing passion for every form of sport. Lita, in spite of her soft curled-up attitudes, was not only a tireless dancer but a brilliant if uncertain tennis-player, and an adventurous rider to hounds. Between her hours of lolling, and smoking amber-scented cigarettes, every moment of her life was crammed with dancing, riding or games. During the two or three months before the baby’s birth, when Lita had been reduced to partial inactivity, Nona had rather feared that her perpetual craving for new “thrills” might lead to some insidious form of time-killing—some of the drinking or drugging that went on among the young women of their set; but Lita had sunk into a state of smiling animal patience, as if the mysterious work going on in her tender young body had a sacred significance for her, and it was enough to lie still and let it happen. All she asked was that nothing should “hurt” her: she had the blind dread of physical pain common also to most of the young women of her set. But all that was so easily managed nowadays: Mrs. Manford (who took charge of the business, Lita being an orphan) of course knew the most perfect “Twilight Sleep” establishment in the country, installed Lita in its most luxurious suite, and filled her rooms with spring flowers, hot-house fruits, new novels and all the latest picture-papers—and Lita drifted into motherhood as lightly and unperceivingly as if the wax doll which suddenly appeared in the cradle at her bedside had been brought there in one of the big bunches of hot-house roses that she found every morning on her pillow. “Of course there ought to be no Pain…nothing but Beauty…It ought to be one of the loveliest, most poetic things in the world to have a baby,” Mrs. Manford declared, in that bright efficient voice which made loveliness and poetry sound like the attributes of an advanced industrialism, and babies something to be turned out in series like Fords. And Jim’s joy in his son had been unbounded; and Lita really hadn’t minded in the least.
x

My views

 

                              Wild Dog and Rabbit 

    

             Once there lived a rabbit in a forest. One afternoon, he was going to the river to drink water. On his way he saw a wild dog sitting under a boulder. When the wild dog saw the  rabbit, started watering. He called out to the rabbit and said, "Hey friend! Where are you going in this scathing heat? Why don't you come and rest for some time till scathing goes away in my cool shade of the boulder. "

  

  

The Rabbit said politely, "Dear Dog! I am very thirsty and  my throat is very dry. I will come to you on my way back from the river."

The Rabbit went to the river and drank the cool water. After quenching his thirst, the rabbit suddenly sensed the danger that he was going to face on his way back home. He said to himself, "should i trust this wild dog? Since I have told him that I would meet him on my way back home, I will have to go there. But, I will have to be careful and must handle the situation tactfully. Thinking thus, the rabbit returned to the boulder where the wild dog awaited for him."

The rabbit was a little frightened. Gathering some courage he said, "Dear friend, I am so happy to see you. You are so nice. Yet everybody says that you are cunning! Personally, I think that nobody appreciates you."

The rabbit consoled the wild dog and said, "let us find a solution to this problem."

The cunning wild dog thought of an idea and said, "Yes. We must find a solution to this problem. Friend, will you do me a favour? please come to my  cave in the evening. we will have dinner together and then think of a solution."

The rabbit accepted the wild dog invitation and said, "All right. I will come to your cave in the evening. We will dine together and think of a way out."

The wild dog smiled and said to himself, "This silly rabbit has fallen into my trap. Let him come to my cave this evening; I'll finish him!"

That evening, the rabbit arrived at the cave where the fox lived. He was surprised to see that there was nothing to eat in the cave. The wild dog was waiting for him eagerly. The cunning wild dog welcomed the rabbit and asked him to sit by his side. The rabbit realized that the wild dog had laid a trap to kill him.

Before the wild dog  could pounce on him, he scampered swiftly out of the cave and ran for his life. The wild dog looked on helplessly.

         The little rabbit had escaped. The dazed fox stood there wondering what to do next.

My Story

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     Alma's  pov...............

 I was out at the local park with my friends and i wondered out into the woods nearby the park and saw a old house and a slate on the gate was written as DO NOT ENTER and at the top of the house was designed and said has it was made in 1840 and their was police tape on the door.

Me being soo adventurous, I went into the house looked allover and said "hello is anyone hear" their was not a single noise in the house in the house i kept on walking threw the house i saw few old drums, broken furniture's and I saw a grim stood like statue about 8ft tall with black hair and beautiful baby eyes and I said "Who are you?" then the figure disappeared and I walked out of the house and went to my house that evening and searched upon the internet to see if their was any haunted houses in my area and if their was any ghost sightings nearby as well.

The next day i go to school and general is their asks me "Alma can you help me find me peace I want my soul to be at rest" I say "how can you help you he says, I need to find my true love she was my fiance When I was drafted in the war and I died in combat" I say "My gosh I don't know how could I fined your love" he said "you look just like her in every way I have a nephew that looks like me in my younger years" I say "and how could I help your rest in peace " he says. "You must go to his house and knock on his door and tell him your name and ask him to follow you to this house and by the way his name in justin then when your done with that I will give you the rest of the directions when your hear."

I walked down the street to justin's house and knocks on his door "hello justin I am Alma and I was wandering if you wanted to go to a walk down to the old park" Justin responded "Alma when I first saw you at school I had a crush on you and wished one day you would be mine but I guess what I am trying to say is I love you and want you to be mine so what I'm asking is would you like to be my girlfriend ?" I did not know what to say so I just said" Yes! I mean sure."

As we where walking down the street we was talking small talk the he stopped at old maple tree and brought me to it and carved out a heart and put a with a arrow threw it and we sat their talking for hours and then I decided I loved him to and I hugged him and he hugged me back.

As we where sitting by tree Justin leaned in and kissed me on the lips and in shock I jumped and said "Sorry you startled me" and I blushed and kissed him and gave him a hug. We kept in walking and we reach the house and I told him about his uncle telling me this stuff and he understood then I asked his ghost uncle "now what do we do now" "now when you are 18+ you need to get married and then my soul will be at rest" at the time I was 17 and Justin was 18 and it was ten days away from my birth day.

Now it was 1day from my birthday and then I would be 18 then I decided to got to the old maple tree and when I arrived at the tree I saw Justin crying by the tree and I walk up to him and said "hey honey why are you crying" he said "my parents are divorcing and I don't want our relationship to end like that can you promise me something " I said "yeah of  course" he said "don't ever leave me" I laughed and said" of course why would I want to leave you" and I kisses him and we went to his place.

As we were at his place and I told him that I will never leave you I will always love you  " he said " I will always love you to "when I turned 18 I got the worst news in my life justin was hit my a car and was in critical condition and his chances of surviving was a 1 in 100 chance of him to survive. The next day I was called by the doctor saying" I am sorry but in orator for him to survive he has to get a lung transplant" right after I got the call I ran to my car and drove to the hospital and told the nurse "I need to see justin" When i walked in the room I ran upto him and cried and put my head on his chest and said" don't worry you will make it even if I die in the process" then i kissed him and walked upto the doctor and said "I will give him the lunge no matter what happens to me," As I went in to  surgery I Prayed from both of us to make it out alive right after I got one of my lings removed I said "how is justin" they said "he is fine he will mark it thanks to you" I smiled and wiped my tears away I said" will I make it?" the doctors said" the odds are low for you chances of surviving " I shook my head and said " can i still get married before I die?" the doctor said "yes you have ruffly a bout 3months before you die if you do you have a 10% chance tho," today's the wedding day as i get reddy to walk down aisle as i walk down the aisle my heart ponds and i collapse to the ground and I am rushed back to the hospital and while i am on the bed my fiance comes up to me and says " I do" with my last diying breath I say" I do "(third person pov). With my dead body laying their the doctors rush me into surgery and the doctor walks in with a sad expression on his face and tells justin" we might be able to save her but the odds are now in her favor. Justin sets their and gets up and asks the doctor" can i see her for the last time at least" the doctor says" yes" he walks in and sits next to her and says "lord if I had a time machine I would go back in time a all the years i did not have you and would be with you and care but most of all I am a fool for not being their every chance I got "he kisses her lips one last time and says" I will never marry any one else" then the heart monitor started beeping again and she startedto breath again and opened her eyes and said" I love you justin," 

As i returned home after long time at the hospital i realized that justin was my life savor just as i saved his life it's funny how that seemed to happen but after we got married the ghost finely got to rest in peace now as the days past I just think of my past and how the heck I am still same. But now i think  i will talk to justin "hey honey how are you" "oh i am fine how are you" "I am fine just wondering about something" "what honey?" well about kids" "what about kids?" "do you want to have kids" "oh um i  guess" "I know it odd but we have been married for quite long time and i don't want kids now probably later on but not right now" "I know that seems odd at this moment "yea want to go to the old maple tree?" "yea" as we walk to the tree my stomach feels weird and i tell justin" i think we need to go to the doctor my stomach hurts" "ok we was using protection right?" "yea but it could have broke" "ok ok lets get you to the doctors" as we go the doctors i feel like something is moving in my stomach i tear up knowing that I am only 18 and might be pregnant and know I will have to grow up preety fast if i am pregnant.

As we arrive to the hospital we go in to the room and find out the i am pregnant and it's 5 n1/2 months in so we get a ultra sound and they find out that it's twins so we rush home and plan a baby shower and that goes well but then justin starts being mean to me and calling me hurtful names i say "are you freakin serious you want to be my husband but when you screw me up you leave me alone like i am nothing and you know what get out of my life I can handle this on my own good bye" so now that i am on my own I find a nice apartment and put the baby stuff in it and wait and wait for the time when twins are born 3and 1/2 months later the baby's are born and I am on my own with know one to help me out. 

 So later that night I went to my moms house and dropped off the twins one was a boy and the other was a girl their names where kevin and the girl was abigail but but we called her abby for short when i dropped them of  I went of to the local bar where I saw sitting their lone with a sad look on his face I looked at him at the  sametime he looked at me and signaled for me to come hear.

I walked over to him and he pulled me closer to him and kissed my lips and I kissed him back for what seemed like a few seconds and then we stopes and I said" remember your promise you made to me When you was young"

"Yes and I was stupid to leave you I was not ready for kids but now I want you back and the kids and want a another baby so what do you say." 

"I say how about me and you go to my place and we see about a another kid."