drsawzall

A fantastic tale for the season, well;l done!!

So...you have 2 furries, the satyr and Wishbone....

Are you forgetting Wishbone??? 😁 YeOldeBard, writing a story set on Earth, with no furries in sight? It's a miracle!

My mother was from a family of professional cooks, one where all ingredients never soiled the insides of a measuring cup, spoon, or other such device...all was by hand, and I can't tell you how frustrating it was at first...But I learned, and now consider myself a very capable cook. I grew up in the building trades before becoming a mediocre, but vitally important, middle manager!! While I can do DYI, and have done so many times, it is so much easier now to let qualified pros do it. While I hate writing the check, knowing it is done on time and budget, and the house is clean, is worth it!! I like the way Russ is blending in with his brother's family and letting his hair down, so to speak, and I am wondering if he, Brian, Gordon, and Toby will find a house that suits all of them!! Here's hoping!!

I was thinking a cum slut @Summerabbacat!!! How long before he has the team ready to take advantage of his orifices??

Larkspur???? A return visit??? Just kidding!!

No rest for the wicked!!

There's a heavy price for foolishness to be paid... Jolanda burst into a wheezing laugh and didn't care that the shadow sentry riding beside her gave her a strange look. Subordinates never understood their leaders, because the latter were geniuses and the former were not. Jolanda Vargan knew she was brilliant - possibly even smarter than her father. At least lately, that's how it felt.

Well now, just where are the missing camels?

A fable for our times, a story worthy of the Bard of Avon... "There are more things in heaven and earth, Nix...with apologies, Horatio...than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Truly delightful, and that they saved the research was compelling as the storm rolled in! Would the cat with the buttered bread be a kinsman to Schroder's Cat?

Once again, we are transported back to the environs of Bearpaw by the undisputed master of the western genre! A wonderful story about honesty and longing, and having the courage to make the connection of two kindred souls!!

Another fine addition to the Bearpaw canon, a wonderful story to put the hard work at the end of the day away with a smile on my face!!! Thank you for this!!!

A quick, fun, actually a delightful read!!!

Had me laughing all the way through!!

Amen to that, brother!! Thanks for reading and your observations!!

Highly entertaining and the product of a 'vivid' imagination!

Brilliant!!!!!

Yes indeed!!!

Uh oh... I looked at him, puzzled. “It's forbidden, yes, but it's mentioned constantly in literature. Kate is a witch skilled in alchemy; if she borrowed advanced books from the coven's collection, she could have stumbled upon a recipe. And you might even find something on the internet.” Before Stone could respond, Vee snorted. “Are you saying you think it's so unlikely that you didn't order a test for it?” Stone wrinkled his nose. “Of course not. But the mere thought that a coven could have forgotten the atrocities committed with this poison after only a hundred years worries me.” Wow, a whole nother wrinkle...That and Quen being released, what will he add to this story?

One wonders if the spirit(s) of the house were former porn stars...

Thank you ever so much, the boys had been living in my head far too long!!

Laundry, along with dishes in the sink, will have to wait, and the heck with raking leaves today!

He paused, remembering the way the scent of a summer's morning and the chorus of birds outside always brought him back to reality after a night lost in fantasies. A part of him wondered if these vivid dreams were just a symptom of growing up, or if they hinted at something deeper, needs and desires he was still learning to name. He tried to steady his breathing, listening to the gentle rustle of leaves outside the window, letting the sounds anchor him as he prepared to leave the sanctuary of his

Summer of 1968 Saturday, July 6th, 1968 The humid air of the farmhouse bedroom clung to his skin, a constant reminder of long, lazy summer nights that blurred into mornings. Sunlight filtered weakly through threadbare curtains, illuminating dust motes that drifted above the tangled sheets. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed—its call mingling with the persistent echo of his sister’s voice and the fading intensity of his dream. Sweat dampened his temples as he blinked awa