Gunny’S Short Stories and Life Lessons
By Chris Island
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About this ebook
My stories have an odd flavor, but I hope that you have found wisdom in some of them. The others were just for fun; in any case, I hope that my writings have brought you a hint of happiness and a spark of enthusiasm.
Chris Island
So few dare to take the necessary step to live a dream. He has not only dared to take the step, he has jumped headfirst into the dream pool. Life experiences while serving in the Marines have given him a deeper pool than most.
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Gunny’S Short Stories and Life Lessons - Chris Island
THE CASE OF THE NAIL-CLIPPER THIEF
S HE WAS JUST A common housewife. The type that no one would take a second look at and everyone took advantage of. If they only knew. She had a mission every day, and if it was not done, then EVERYTHING failed. Commoners did not understand the labor it took to make the day in and day out
happen. She was raised a certain way and that did not paint the picture of her life. She found a good man, but he had his faults. Things could have been worse. He had his own style, and they did not always agree. There was enough common ground for them to work on, and they managed to bang out a living that they could be proud of. He had a job that he could not leave, and so did she, but she had a fetish that needed to be sated. HER NAILS HAD TO BE PERFECT!
When he left on a mission, he made one fatal error—he took the only set of nail clippers. They said their good-byes at the airport, not knowing what was to come. When she got home and looked over the empty house, there was something missing. She walked through the house and tried to fill the gaps left by his departure. When she ripped the sheets off the bed from their last encounter, a trickle of blood dripped from a ripped nail as the sheets ripped away. The longing grew. A quick bandage would have to do for now.
When she woke in the morning with her lady parts still aflame, she quickly went about her duty and ensured that her nails were mended. Once she restored the broken nail, there was something else missing. She looked around and instantly knew what had happened. It was not there, and he had taken it! Was it too late? Could she find it? It had to be in the truck, and the truck was at the base! She had to get it back, but it would not be easy. Being of nimble mind, the plan began to unfold.
She was quick, she was agile, and they had no chance. The vehicle was parked in a compound with the security that rated the White House, but she had a mission. Silently she crept through the trees, waiting at every turn for signs that she was detected, knowing that at any moment she would be caught, the mission would be scrubbed. But she crawled inch by inch toward her goal, hoping and praying that he left it. Every few feet, she would pause to assess the security and make sure she left no sign that she was there, for if she was found out, the trophy was lost. There was a roving patrol that she did not know about, and the timing had to be exact for success.
In the next blink of an eye, her opportunity slapped her in the face. Ninja-like she jumped over the fence, found the truck, and picked the lock, and as she rummaged through the truck. A panic set in—that it was gone and there would be no hope of getting it back. The thoughts swirled, and the panic started to take root. How was she going to get it back? Her mind raced with options, but none made sense. She made her way home, and by the time she pulled her covers over her head, it was all but lost.
She woke to a very unwelcome doorbell at a much unexpected time. Without even having time for coffee or a scrunchy, she opened the door, and there he was! The son of a bitch, with the sun shining behind him, making him gorgeous, and the sunlight reflecting all her flaws. With his hand extended, he said in a tone that made her lower parts sweat, Are these your clippers?
Her nails and her heart fell to the floor!
THE BEACH
A S MY EYES STARTED to open and the clouds began to scatter from my mind, I felt the abrasive rub of sand on my back and heard the crashing of the waves in front of me. The clearer my vision got, the more questions started to form in my mind. As I got somewhat aware, I found myself on the shore with just my board shorts on and a bikini top in my pocket. With the sounds of the waves reverberating in my head like a canon in a valley, the only thing I could do was jump in the water, one to deafen the sound and two to clean up my body from whatever debauchery I got into the night before.
When I came out of the water, what I needed was something to clear my head, and what better than the hair of the dog.
I found the nearest palm-covered bar and asked for the BEST morning-after medicine—a Bloody Mary or, giving the place I was in, a Bloody Maria. When the clock struck