#also he almost set my debit machine on fire once

[gales-big-naturals]

Tired as fuck at work and my least favourite customer came in while my coworker was on break so I had to deal with him. He didn’t tell me he wanted two of something so I had to restart the transaction and our till goes insane if you cancel a purchase and then immediately start another one that’s too similar so I had to deal with him for like 5 whole minutes. Also every other customer has found the most long winded way ti tell me what kind of weed they want.

Actually gonna commit a murder if I have to interact with 1 more customer

[n0wornever]

Meet Cute (pt. 2) - Luke Patterson x Reader

Read Part 1 here

So....I got a little carried away with this. If you don’t like it, pls don’t ever tell me lolol (also, yes, the lyrics included are Miss Taylor Swift’s)

Y/N placed her bag down at her usual table. She took a look around the room, trying to draw as little attention as she could as she looked around the room for those hazel eyes. Unsatisfied with her assessment, she sits down at the table and opens her book. 

Within a second, a soft voice tickled her ear. “Looking for someone in particular?” She felt her ears burn as he giggled softly close to her face. 

She turned to be met by the smiling barista, coffee splattered all over his apron and flour attached to the sides of his arms. She tried her best not to smile too quickly back at him, tucking a piece of her falling hair behind her ear. 

“Nope.” She stated, scrunching her nose up at him. He rolled his eyes, leaning on the table in front of her. 

“Well are you going to order something or do you plan on freeloading all afternoon?” She popped her jaw as his eyes bulged, raising his eyebrows at her. 

She set down her book and placed her hand on her chest, mouth ajar in his direction “Not with this kind of customer service.”

His smile grew even wider as he shooed her gaze off of him with the towel in his hand. He slid the open chair toward her, sitting down and leaning his elbow on the granite below. 

Can I at least get a chai ready for you, miss comedian?” 

She brought her finger up to her face, tapping her cheek a few times before nodding. She moved to grab her wallet out of her bag, but by the time she did, he was out of sight. 

She leaned over to look at the bar, where she saw him running quickly to the machine, booting his coworker off of it with a push of his hip. She smiled dreamily as he worked quickly, steaming milk, and then flipping over to the other side to start steeping the tea. He eventually poured something into an orange mug with a smile on his face. She watched him carefully sprinkle cinnamon on top of it, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he did. As his eyes moved away from the cup, she leaned back over to face forward at the table and lifted her book to her face again. 

It took a few seconds for him to walk over to her table. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the words in front of her until the glass actually hit the table. She lifted her eyes to meet it with a small smile. She looked up to see him beaming down at it with his hands out.

“Ba daaaa…” He said with jazz hands shaking at his creation.

“Thank you,” She said simply, picking her card up from the table next to her “How much do I owe you?”

He shook his head “I get a free drink a day, this one is yours.” 

She frowned at him, pushing the debit out toward him. “No, Luke come on…” He rose his hands, refusing to take the card from her once again. She moved her feet, preparing to get out of her chair but Luke took off on foot back toward the bar. 

She looked down at the ground, shaking her head before rotating back to her book. She leaned over to her bag, pulling out her pencil and tucking it behind her hair. She had created a habit of spinning her shoulder-length hair around writing utensils to make a makeshift ponytail. She pressed down on the middle of her bun to make sure it was secured before bringing her hands back down to the table. She chewed on the middle of her lip as she finally dove into her first poem of the evening. 

A moment passes before her phone buzzes against the table. She finishes the line she’s on before picking it up. She looks at the message from an unknown number with furrowed brows. She swipes it open, eyes falling on the word “purple.” 

Unknown: “Hey purple, it’s your favorite barista.”

She smirks down at the device, quickly typing her response. “Shouldn’t my favorite barista be working and not texting customers?”

Unknown: “Yeah well...we’re dead and I want to talk to you without being whipped by my boss again.”

She giggled, her mind falling back to the sound of the towel slapping back and forth on the barista’s back. “You are making it quite difficult for me to focus on my reading….” 

Unknown: “So studious. I guess we can talk later. :(“ 

She rolled her eyes, not responding to his pouting. She placed her phone face down on the table and gripped the book in her hands once again. 

Y/N eventually finished the book in one sitting, with extra time she planned to spare. She pulled out her notebook from her bag and flipped to a fresh page. She leaned over to rummage through her bag for another pencil. She felt her hair collapse around her face and sat up straight, she turned to see Luke holding up the purple mechanical pencil in his hand as he hovered over her.

“Need this?” He winked in her direction, his eyes drawing over her features. “I think I like your hair better down anyway,” 

She pulled her curls behind her ears and shook her head up at him as she reached for the writing utensil.  

“Unbelievable,” She muttered.

A smirk reappeared on his face as he held out the pencil, shaking it between his fingers. She reached over and he caught her wrist with his free hand. She tried and failed to hold back the audible gasp that came with his sudden touch. He flipped her hand over, place the pencil in it before closing her hand around the small object. He placed his hand on top of hers for a moment before letting her go.

She turned back to face forward, hoping the growing redness on her face and ears weren’t as apparent as it felt. He slid into the chair in front of her, catching her eyes again. He set his elbows on the table and leaned his chin in his palms. 

“So you’re actually writing tonight?”

“Are you on break?” She rose an eyebrow at him. 

He shrugged “Kind of?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was unbelievably determined. She watched as his eyes fell to her open notebook and back to her eyes. 

“What are you writing.” 

She sighed, tapping her pencil on the table. “That’s the problem, I’m not sure yet.”

He nodded, propping his hand under his chin as he looked over in the distance. Almost as if a lightbulb turned on in his brain, his expression changed to one of excitement. “How about I help you?”

She shook her head “You’re going to get yourself fired if you just sit here and try to help me brainstorm…” 

He laughed again, digging into his pocket “I’m not going to just sit here….I have…” He pulled out a square piece of paper and pushed it over toward her. She stared at it for a moment before looking up at Luke in confusion. He lifted the paper into his hands and unraveled it, pressing the open paper to the table before pushing it over to her once more. She read through the chicken scratched lines as he spoke to her.

“These are lyrics I started writing last night. Maybe you could respond to them?”

She rose an eyebrow “I don’t write music.” 

Luke scoffed, rolling his eyes at her “I meant write-in in your medium of choice. Write a poem or just a few statements in the way that someone may respond to what’s being sung.” 

She moved the paper back toward him “Luke I can’t just take your work like that.” His hand moved to cover hers as his smile grew.

“I want you to take it, use it if you can. I’ll be waiting…” He stood up from the table, running over to his very unenthusiastic coworker. 

She held the paper in both hands as she started to read the lyrics. She felt her heart pick up even staring at the writing, feeling like she was reading directly into someone’s diary. 

“And you stood there in front of me just, Close enough to touch, close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinking of. Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.”

There was a large space between paragraphs. He must have pieces missing still, she thought. She let her eyes fall to the next line, a small smile forming on her lips. 

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, its just wrong enough to make it feel right. And lead me up the staircase, won't you whisper soft and slow? And I'm captivated by you baby, like a fireworks show.”

Y/N sat there in awe as she read through the short lines over and over. Whoever Luke was talking to, he was really in deep. His cool demeanor didn’t give away this kind, vulnerable sound that came through his lyrics. She tapped her pencil as she began to think thoroughly about these short lines. 

Luke has to be extremely infatuated with this love interest he’s writing to, she decided. So she decided to write from the perspective of the girl, who is hesitant to be as confident about the possibility of a relationship budding between them. Her hand wrote frantically across the page as her mind ran wild. 

“The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm, and I'm a house of cards. You're the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I know that I won't get far.” 

She thought these lines might sound a little corny, but she loved it already. She sat and gazed over at Luke at the counter. He was already leaning over the ice cream area, smiling in her direction. She shot him a quick smile, looking into his brown-green eyes before looking back at the table and putting the pen to paper again. 

“Get me with those green eyes, baby as the lights go down, give something that'll haunt me whenever you're not around, 'cause I see, sparks fly, when you smile.” 

She wanted to go a bit deeper than the fluff, so she concentrated on the next part being the girl’s nerves. She’d never felt like writing had ever come this simply to her, practically overflowing in her mind before she’s able to capture it in words. 

“My mind forgets to remind me, you’re a bad idea, You touch me once and it's really something, you find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be. I'm on my guard for the rest of the world, but with you, I know its no good. And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would.”

She decided to end it with a call and response to Luke’s initial lyrics, rewriting “Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.” 

Y/N put down her pencil and read it back a couple of times and she couldn’t help but beam at the paper below her. 

“Is it going well?” A voice boomed over her shoulder, causing her to jump up in her seat, hearing a familiar laugh behind her. 

She turned to him with wide eyes “Do you ever like to enter a room quietly?” He shook his head at her, the two laughing together as Luke took a seat at the table. He put his hand out toward her notebook. 

“Let me see what ya got, Y/N.” 

She hesitated, playing with the red ribbon that sat in the middle of the page. Luke’s face softened as he noticed her anxious tick. “I promise I won’t judge, and if I do...you have every right to never speak to me again.” She sighed, meeting his eyes, Luke’s teeth atop of his bottom lip. “Y/N, I understand how vulnerable creative work can be, I promise you...it’s between you and me.” his finger pointing back and forth between the two.

Y/N gave in, sliding the notebook his way and bringing her eyes to the ceiling. She didn’t want to see his reactions quite yet to her quick writing. She’d had only an hour to start scribbling, so she wasn’t convinced that it would drop jaws. Her internal monologue was stopped by her eyes when they looked over and saw Luke’s wide smile as he ran his eyes down the paper. She let them linger there for a while, taking in his animated expression. He looked up at her for a moment, the smile staying put before he darted back down to her words. He pointed to a specific spot on the page and brought his gaze back up to her again. 

“I'm on my guard for the rest of the world, But with you, I know its no good.” He sang quietly, his eyes fixated on her face. He spun around in his chair before he opened his mouth again.

“Y/N, this is so good. This...is music. At least to me. I can hear this.” 

She knew her face was a perfect shade of pink by now, but she tried to ignore her elevated heart rate as she asked him a question. “You, you mean that?” 

He nodded “You have to sing this with me.” 

She shook her head profusely “Luke, oh no, absolutely not.” 

He giggled, touching her hand again. “Come on Y/N. My house isn’t far from here and I’m off in 10 minutes. It could be as private as you need it to be.” 

She thought about her former voice lessons, her years of choir and her short time in the drama department. She wasn’t a terrible singer. For some reason, the mixture of her finally being able to put something on paper and the way Luke was looking at her right now made her want to say yes, so she did. 

She finally nodded his way, whispering a quick “....okay.”

Luke’s smile grew as he stood from the table, “Wait for me here, I’ll be done in a few.” 

She spent the last 10 minutes painstakingly over-analyzing every single possible situation that may come from this encounter. She was about to be alone, with a boy she’s met all of two times, giving one of the most vulnerable parts of her to him. What if he hated it and never wanted to see her again. Did she want to see him again?

What was happening to her? She tried to focus on the lyrics/poem or whatever she’d written. She started to hum along to a line to calm herself down as she waited for Luke to finish. As soon as she’d hit her second stanza, a hand touched her shoulder. 

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, pulling on his coat. 

She got up out of her seat, placing her notebook in her bag and throwing her coat over her body. She followed him out the door into the cold autumnal air. He turned to her, pointing to the left side of the lot. 

“Ride with me? I’ll bring you back to your car later.” She nodded at him, following him across the street. 

As she got into the passenger side seat, the smell that wrapped around her felt familiar. It smelled like him, like dark woods and coffee mixed together. She took a silent breath in, exhaling as he got in next to her. 

“You okay?” He asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“Just preparing for my 9 p.m. news abduction story.” She said, grabbing onto the handle near her chair. 

He pursed his lips together, obviously holding in laughter as he put the car in drive. He pulled out of the lot and onto the road quickly. As they moved past homes and office buildings, Y/N brought her attention out toward the window. She listened to Luke’s light humming as she took in what passed them by. 

He turned onto a street lined in trees that were shedding their summer green. She almost wanted to take a shot of the leaves, but she didn’t want to feel invasive. Instead, she mentally took note of their beauty, something she’d hope to at least get to write about later. 

Luke hopped out of the car quickly, lightly jogging her side to open the door. “Ma lady,” he slightly bowed at her and she rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car. 

He walked next to her toward the wooden door with a large wreath hanging upon it. Shades of yellow and orange and green sprinkled around it. He put the key in the door and guided her inside. The place was quiet. Table set, rooms clean but no sight of anyone around the first floor. 

“Where’s your family?” She asked.

He held his hand out to take her coat. “Dunno, probably at one of our relative’s houses. It’s poker night.” She shrugged off her jacket, placing it in his palm. 

He pointed at the stairs “Let’s go to my room.” She followed his lead up the winding stairs. He moved toward the door straight in front of them and spun the handle open. He gestured her in first, and her eyes met walls of musical artists and ticket stubs. She turned in a circle, taking all of it in. 

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

She smiled at him “Quite a collection you’ve got.” He held her gaze for a moment before walking over to his guitar stand. 

“Here’s my baby, let’s get to singing!” He ran his fingers down the strings once before sitting back on his bed, tapping the spot next to him for her. 

She moved slowly, sliding next to him and leaning back on the wall. She handed him her notebook and he strummed away as he looked at their combined words. Y/N watched him in awe as he combined words and melody in front of her. Her eyes fixed on his closed expression, shaking his head enthusiastically to the notes he played.

He smiled back at her, laying out some poorly drawn notes on paper in front of them. “Okay, so I already had something in mind for this piece. Let me know if you need any help as we go through this.”

He started to play the opening notes, leading up to the first verse she came up with. He hummed his thoughts on the first stanza, and then looked at her, nodded her along. She tried to avoid looking at her shaking hands as she quietly repeated that first line. His warm grin boosted her confidence, next coming in stronger and the following even brighter than before. 

As they hit the chorus he counted down from three for her and then they sang together. “ Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk take away the pain 'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile.” His velvet voice eased her worries as they continued down the page, eye contact staying consistent.

By the time they got to the end, Y/N and Luke were simply looking at each other as his playing faded out into the background. His gaze always made her a bit on edge, but the way he looked at her right now, with that dreamlike trance, was enough to make her feel like the room was spinning. She finally diverted her gaze from his to look out his window and she heard him exhale.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” She said lazily, letting her eyes slowly migrate back to the bedframe he laid against. He set his guitar to the side and moved over to the edge of the bed near her. She watched as he slid his hand closer to her, inching it toward her own. When he finally closed in, his grip was soft and gentle, bringing his fingers between hers. She looked up to meet his eyes, trying to dissect what he was doing. 

She watched as his body leaned in toward hers. She felt her breath hitch at the proximity. Finally letting her gaze meet his. She watched as his gaze moved from her lips to her eyes a few times before he closed the distance, hand reaching for her neck. She shut her eyes, leaning into him as their lips moved together. As they pulled away, his dark eyes glistened at her.

“Like music.” He repeated, touching her cheek gently.

.

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Tag list: @xplrreylo​ @lovesanimals​, @anythingandeverythingfandom​, @crybabyddl​, @oswin05​, @themaddies-obx​, @lukeys-giggle​, @bumbleberry-pie​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​  @marinettepotterandplagg​, @lolychu​, @bathtimejish​, @dasexydevitt13​ @musicconversedance​, @txrii​  @bestdressedandstressed​ @daisiesforlacey​  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @rudysbay​ @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​

[stone-man-warrior]

September 25, 2018: 6:46 pm:

September 25. 2018: 4:30 pm:<br><br>Yesterday&#39;s attack was followed by mo... StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-25T21:16:13-0400 - Updated: 2018-09-25T21:46:21-0400

September 25. 2018: 4:30 pm: Yesterday's attack was followed by more bullshit today. First, it is Monday, no US Mail came yesterday as it was Sunday and I check my Mail daily, so on Saturday, I received Mail in my Mailbox. Today, I checked at about 1:30 pm and there was Mail. Then, I went to run errands and saw that the US Mail carrier was at the end of "MyStreet" and beginning her route on "MyStreet". I almost turned around to ask her why I had Mail in my Mailbox today when she had not delivered Mail on "MyStreet" yet. So, as I thought would happen, I checked my Mailbox a few minutes ago and found more US Mail in my Mailbox. I received US Mail twice today, once from the US Mail Carrier, and once from a "Mystery Mail" delivery person. Someone had taken my US Mail out of my Mailbox and held it, then put it back for me to find today. This is all part of the terrorism and is a bigger problem than it seems from this explanation. I know that there are people trying to stop the terrorism somewhere, and the local fake law enforcement is doing everything they can do to portray me as a thief, while one or more of the terrorists is taking credit for some of the things I report here on this page. Unfortunately, the things that are being exposed that the terrorist impostor is taking credit for are manufactured things, or manufactured crimes. Crimes that did not happen but rather are crimes that most likely are putting some innocent people at great risk of punishment for something that never occurred. So the US Mail I received twice today is part of someones ides to make it appear as though I am employed in the trucking business and am gone for days at a time and then return home for a few days, like truckers do. Clyde Baum of 333 "MyStreet" is a likely source for this part of the terrorism. He has been known to take my mail, and the Mail of others, and then put it back later on for a variety of uses. I am not a trucker, I am retired. I do not go to work in any kind of employment whatsoever. I know this is confusing and seems menial, however, these terrorists are religious Christian of the Seventh Day Adventist Church, and as such, they take some of their guidance from religious notions such as the phrase "God is in the details". With sayings and ideas that are Christian oriented, they hone their craft of killing for the Crusades such that anyone who is not a Seventh Day Adventist will either be forced to convert or be killed... just like in the old days. So, the small details such as my mail stacking up in my US Mailbox is just the kind of small detail that helps keep these well connected and highly trained soldiers from being stopped. This is also the kind of small detail that helps the terrorists kill American Victims with the help of real, USA laws and traditions. My US Mail did not stack up in the Mailbox like they planned. I was supposed to be dead today and the Mail was supposed to reflect and help support a notion that I was away on a trucking delivery. This part of the terrorism is set forth by Fran Taylor, Clyde Baum, Sandy Monroe, and Sean Sparacino in close association with the US Mail Carrier that delivers on this route in the black, nissan van with the words "Black Jellie Bean" in vinyl graphics on each side. I went to the Wal-Mart at about 2:45 this afternoon, as I drove and approached  to the end of "MyStreet", I could see the the school bus was there. Some terrorist children were being picked up by their terrorist parents. I chose to turn around and go back to my house to wait for the terrorist children and terrorist parents to be done with being at the bus stop. I came home, left my vehicle parked at the gate and walked to my door at my house. Along the way I could hear gunfire from a moving vehicle going South on Russel Road from the Bus stop to about 3701 Russel Road. Their were about six shots fired within about one minute and the source of the shots I could hear were moving progressively towards the South and away from the Bus Stop on Russel and Jess Way. As I walked from my vehicle to my door, I remember thinking out-loud that gunfire at the bus stop at the time that the children are being dropped off is normal and customary, and makes perfect sense in Socio-Terrific Dystopian Oregon. I decided I could leave and drove back out towards Russel Road again and was closely followed by a white pick-up truck with yellow Oregon State License Plates that had the letter "e" on it, and had a flashing yellow light on top. The truck was a Oregon State Forestry truck and the driver was right on my bumper as I drove down "MyStreet" to get on my way. The Forestry truck had gone to 601 heroin dealers house behind me when I turned around and went home briefly. After getting back on my way again, the forestry truck was right on my tail as I left home the second time, and after hearing the gunshots from the Bus Stop.  Once on my way, I encountered the US Mail Carrier having an excited discussion with an elderly man who was on foot. His truck was across the street and there was at least one other concerned terrorist fake citizen there at the scene on the corner of Russel Road and Jess Way... the Bus Stop. Later, at the Wal-mart, I saw that same elderly man, the one that was talking with the Mail Carrier, at the Wal-Mart. He entered the store about the same time I entered the store. He must have been driving very fast to get into the store at the same time I did. However, I spent some time talking with a homeless woman at the Wal-Mart in the parking lot, so he had some extra time to get into the Wal-Mart. Bot he and the US Mail Carrier were surprised to see me drive past them at the Bust Stop. Presumably, they were talking about gunfire from the moving vehicle that I heard a few moments before that. I am certain that I was to be blamed for the gunfire because the homeless woman at the Wal-Mart Parking lot had said to me "You must be the one who was doing all of the shooting then". The Homeless woman at the Wal-Mart was working in league with another terrorist. The homeless woman is a highly trained terrorist operative and is involved with vehicle theft and murders in the parking lot. She stays in teh parking lot and monitors vehicles as they drive by her and park. She is always parked near the entrance but at the side of the parking lot. Her and her accomplice terrorist leave a wide open parking space available right there in between them so that a victim, some one like me, will choose to park there. The terrorists are so connected with one another that they can arrange that it is not possible to park anywhere else except for the space they leave available between the two operatives. The homeless terrorist lady strikes up a conversation with the victim while the accomplice fogs the victim with Nitrous Oxide/Versed poison airborne gas. That is what happened today, and, there was enough information in the conversation that the woman wanted to talk about that it was clear she was part of the attack on me yesterday, or had been informed and commissioned to participate in anticipation of my needed trip to the grocery store. The woman asked about my old truck. She asked what year it was. She wanted to know everything she could know about the tires I have on my old truck. This is a homeless woman about 65 years of age who is interested in the year, make, and model of my truck, and, she wanted to know everything about the tires I have, including what kind they are, how much they cost and from where did I purchase them. After she described my truck into her secret communication with others nearby, she said to me "You must be Ben then". I told her "No. I am not Ben, Ben's truck does not have the X-tra Cab  like mine does, and his is a Four-Speed I think, besides, Ben had a real bad day yesterday, I don't think he made it out alive". Just then, the woman's accomplice shouted "I'm Lit! c'est chaud!" and then exploded. The accomplice burst as a result of my use of my Bic Lighter to fight terrorism. The whole time I was talking to the homeless woman terrorist operative at the Wal-Mart parking lot near the entrance, who wanted to know all about my old pick-up truck, including the cost of the tires and where I bought them, I was lighting my Bic Lighter briefly every five seconds or so. Just a spark is all it takes and that is all it took to light the terrorist operative accomplice up. It was a woman, about 35 years old and heavy-set. She burst into bits in the parking space next to me as she got out of her car and started to run into the neighboring shopping center through the bushes. The Homeless woman terrorist operative had a small caliber .25 custom fire-arm and she took one shot at me with it. The bullet hit me but bounced off. The gun that these terrorists use are all the same. The woman carry a vaginally holstered .25 caliber gun that holds two rounds. They are custom made by Crowder Machine on Monument Drive next to the Fire Department. I saw her "un-holster" her gun and shoot at me, I was struck in the chest but the round did not penetrate. I have a small hole in my shirt now. Once inside the Wal-Mart, I encountered the elderly man that was talking with the Mail Carrier. I shopped for  the items I wanted and proceeded to the checkout. At the check-stand, usually, I have to encounter a swordsman. Seriously, at the moment I put my debit card into the machine, a swordsman comes and tries to run me through with the sword. I have developed a defense for the sword, however, I am not going to say what or how I defend against the sword. They have changed things now. At the Wal-Mart this Summer, they put in a pet veterinary service. The service is called "Pet-IQ". So now, at the Wal_Mart in Grants Pass Oregon, at the check-out, rather than a swordsman, they use a terrorist with a syringe from the veterinary that has in it the drug use to euthanize, or "put-to-sleep" animals. The terrorist with the euthanization needle is there and can conceal the syringe much better than the sword. The woman at the check-out saw that I was not a Seventh Day Adventist because I had purchased non-perishable items such as cookies and ice cream. That is one of the ways they know who is an American Victim. However, I am the last American in Josephine County so it is a bit different now. Other than me in the Wal-Mart, the only other American Citizens that will be in the store are those who are traveling through and are on Vacation. Those who are traveling and stop into the Wal-Mart are exterminated with a terrorist wielding a syringe filled with euthanization drug. The woman at the check-stand called for "a needle" as she said into her secret  communication. I did not actually see that someone with a needle had come, but she did call for one. I heard that she called for "a needle" and began to fight terrorism with a Bic Lighter a little more often than usual. I may have ignited the terrorist with teh needle today. This is one of the few times I have been to the Wal-Mart and did not actually see someone die inside the store. I did see someone die outside of the store, but not on the inside. As I returned home today and checked mu Mailbox, Sandy Monroe was waiting in her yard and was under the impression that I was someone other than myself. She and her husband were waiting for my prescription medicine to be given to them. They kill for a handful of pills. So, that is part of how yesterday's attack that included Oregon State Forestry representatives was followed up today. This explanation was difficult to write. It took me a long time to explain it in written words. Maybe my efforts will be recognized by persons who are willing to defend Freedom. The United States of America is being consumed from within by terrorists who use Nitrous Oxide Poison airborne gas as an offensive weapon and kill Americans at the grocery store and everywhere that American Citizens shop for the things the need. Donald Trump is not willing to stop the killing and in fact is advancing the armies right before our eyes and ears. If you listen to his words and apply this knowledge on this page, you will hear him command an advancement, such as when Mr.. Trump talks about "Cross-State Medical Insurance... he is actually telling armies to move to the next State and begin the killing there. Think about it. Is your freedom worth saving? Is your child's life worth saving? If so, find a way to have someone in the US Military read this page. There are four years of actual experience with these kinds of terrorists and there is no one else who is reporting the use of Nitrous Oxide/Versed airborne gas as an offensive weapon used to sudue American Victims to slaughter. Please send help to Josephine County Oregon.

Shared with: Public

+1'd by: Luxury Hotel Pix, Sue Hanen, US Trailer

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-26T00:10:58-0400

September 25, 2018: 7:48 pm: I want to say some things about the Three Rivers School District, especially the Manzanita Eleimentary School, The Flemming Middle School, and North Valley High School. These are the schools that my children attended and I have the most familiarity with among the seventeen schools in the District. If my children are alive, I am not aware of it. My phone is not aboe to connect with them directly, and I get the feeling that those who control the Stingray Listening State Police Surveillance equipment in Josephine County are able to manipulate phone calls such that on the rare occasion when someone calls me who is calling from a number that I recognize as that of one of my children, the call actually is intercepted by a third party who pretends to be my child, and speaks to me as if that third party impostor is actually one of my children, in such a way as to give me the impression that my children are indeed alive, however the notion I get is that that impostor takes the words that are spoken by my child on the telephone, and then twists those words into something frightening to hear. If this is actually occurring like I think it is, then my children are likely hearing the same kind of thing on the telephone on their end when I speak. The phone calls are always unrewarding and provide more fear and confusion than if no  phone call was made or received. There seems to be enough personal information being shared on the phone calls that indicate that my children are alive. The stories and conversation between myself and my children are very strange and ultimately very frightening. The people who are speaking on the telephone sound remarkably similar to the voice of my children, however, in the many years that the phones have been hijacked by the terrorists with the StingRay's, I have learned that voices are somewhat easily duplicated, especially by terrorists associated with the Screen Actors Guild. The Screen Actors Guild is composed of people who's job it is, and who are highly trained experts in the field of audio manipulation, recording, broadcasting, synthesizing, editing, and various other ways to describe that the sound of someone's voice can be, and is, altered, or articulated to the desires of those who seek a particular result. The voices of our children are easily mastered by actors who are trained to act, and by audio engineers who are trained to manipulate sound in every way imaginable. For most people, every way imaginable does not encompass the recreation of the voice of our children on the telephone by actors who portray them and by audio engineers who master the tonality of the vocal subject, and the background noises or lack of them that we hear on the phone. So, for my children's sake, I want to try to recall some of the horrible ways they were victimized at the schools they went to for education. These are public schools that were taken over by terrorists, and when the parents reported the problems to the proper authorities, the entire family was killed and replaced with terrorist replacements. I remember that at Fleming Middle School, there were, in 1996 through possibly to the present time, at least three incinerators at the school nearby the music room. Those incinerators were used to burn children. One more time, at Fleming Middle School, the incinerators were used to burn and dispose of student children. I also remember that those incinerators were protected at that side of the school by a armed guard who had with him a Thompson Machine gun. The guard walked back and forth all day long where the incinerators are at. I also remember that I was able to fool the guard a number of times. I would go there and say some BS about something and make a scene of some kind, I put more than one of those guards into the incinerator this way and was able to leave safely, and then come back and do the same thing again on another day. In this way, I killed a number of the guards. I stopped when they began punishing the children for what I had done. They never found out who was putting the guards into the incinerator until now that I have written this. I remember in the music room, actors from the Screen Actors Guild would come, sit in the class room, they would look around the room and then choose one or more of the students in the room to go into a small, private practice room that was built into the music room. There was a time when I sat in on the class and the teacher their was wondering if I was going to choose a student for "practice" in the private room. I remember telling all of the students that they should never have to worry about that teacher making them go into the private room anymore, because when that teacher asked me which student I wanted to practice with, I said that I wanted to practice with him, and I took him into the private room. There was Nitrous Oxide being blown into those private rooms, I don't remember what I taught the teacher that day in the private room, however, I was told that the teacher had "retired" shortly after the encounter. At all of the three schools mentioned, and before we had cellular telephone communication available in the Rogue Valley, there was, and perhaps still is a Emergency Radio System that works on a radio frequency between the schools and is a direct connection to toe busing company and to the Fire station and to the Law Enforcement, That Emergency Radio system was actually used to provide communication between the terrorists who were pretending to be Principles, and the Law Enforcement in such a way as to act as a ,means of prostituting the children. The communication devices were used to inform the terrorist principle that a particular movie star or musician was going to be at the school and the requirements were discussed over the Emergency Radio system such that the Screen Actor Guild members could request that a student of a particular set of physical attributes would be summoned to serve the desires of the Screen Actor Guild member. Many of the visiting SAG members were British and had thick British accents. I recall at the North Valley High School at the Football Field, there would be events that took place by special invitation. Those invited could watch as a mass killing snuff movie was made on the school grounds, on the football field. Typically, the snuff movie special invitation was enacted around the false presentation of a Decathlon. The students had another name for it, I think they called it a "De-cap-ithon". At the time, I did not understand what was going on. There was a lot of Nitrous Oxide being blown around. When I attended one of these events, I encountered a situation where the track around the football field had installed around it a camera on a track that moved at the speed that the runners who ran on the track could run. They would install the camera and the rails that it traveled and then take it down after the killing event. The victims, as I recall, were students who had done something that angered the terrorist Principle. Something like insubordination or being accused of being disloyal to the ways of the terrorists. My children told me that the students were being executed, I saw that the students were being executed myself, live, on the football field, and on film, and I still did not believe what I was seeing. The students were drugged and forced to run the race track, leap over obstacles, participate in the "Long Jump", Pole Vault, Javalin throw and a variety of other "sports" while being filmed. The apparatus was all designed to kill the student who was forced to participate. There were camera  operators on foot with gimbles at every one of the Decapithon events. The obstacles for the obstacle race were made such that they would remove the leg of someone who knocked one over, this was filmed by a mechanical device that would follow the runners along the track. There long jump into the sand pit had spikes in it. The pole vault had spikes on the landing surface. The Javalin throw was done by members of the Screen Actors Guild who would throw the javelin into the direction of students who were down range and forced, and drugged so that they would just stand there and be impaled by the incoming javelin. There was an event at the end of the decapathon  that rendered students heads be removed in such a way that the heads went flying and then rolling all over the place all at once. I remember being in total and complete emotional shut down and completely on autopilot as I walked around the field and picked up from the ground what I thought were soccer balls only to find that I had in my hands the head of a young high school student, and i fact I had collected from the running track, the heads of a number of the students, some of which I could recognize and knew who they were. Snuff movies and prostitution of students at the public schools of the Three Rivers School District in Josephine County Oregon under the direction of the Law Enforcement officers in charge at the time. There was and is still no way to get any help to stop the madness. I called the White House and explained things to the people there under George W. Bush, but all they did was contact the Law Enforcement and ask them to look into the matter. Innocent children were killed as a result of any one who tried to get help from outside of the area. I remember an announcement was made that until the person or persons stepped up and exposed who was calling the White House, they would kill students every day. I don;t remember if I stood up, but I do remember that students were killed. Young American Boys and Girls murdered at the school that they attended. Only the students really know how bad things were, I only know what I could see from the outside, as a parent. There is a lot more to say about this. These are true stories that bring me nothing but grief and horrible memories. This is Oregon. This is the USA. No one will help no matter how many times I ask for help. many dozens of calls for help that were followed up by the murder of innocent people resultant of the cry for help being made and as a means of punishing the ones who asked for help from the outside of the County of Josephine. I killed many terrorists at the Three Rivers School District Schools over a number of years because no one else would protect the students, or protect the United States of America. I don't often say in writing that I killed people/ This is one time that I will say it again, and there may be some still alive who will also say the I killed some of the terrorists at the Three Rivers School District over a number of years of terrorists oppression. Two decades have past, and there is still no response to any of the cries for help of any of the American Citizens who were begging for help. These are true accounts of real experiences. Please send help.

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-26T02:13:36-0400

September 25, 2018: 10:46 pm: There is a pond next door at the Monroe;s Screen Actor Guild Seventh Day Adventist Vatican Cannibal terrorist family cell. The pond is a water feature that was installed by terrorists, for terrorists to use as a means of killing American Victims. The pond is a conversation piece and as such, whenever the terrorist family there is able to attract American Victims to their home, they can take their guests to show them the pond and waterfall they have. The pond makes noise cover for the release of Nitrous Oxide and the calming effect of the pond and waterfall, along with the frogs and fish inside of it create a peaceful place where victims can be, and are lulled into a trance and ripe for killing. The pond there also has electricity there for the thing to operate, and the electricity is used there to operate a receiver and recording device for secret terrorist communications. I have a microphone implant in my jaw that was put in place during a root canal I needed for a dental problem. Along with the root canal I got a microphone that broadcasts everything I say, every day, all day and all night. I cannot adjust the volume, nor can I turn the device on or off... it is always on, all of the time and the Monroe's are able to record everything I say day and night. When I mumble to myself, when I talk to my cat, when I read things out-loud, if I speak my passwords to my online banking or when I say private things on a phone call to my doctors office, pharmacy or family member, they record everything at that pond. They use the recordings in ways that I do not know. I am certain that they are able to take many different recording of my voice over a long period of time and edit those recordings in such a way as to produce a recorded sampling of my voice saying something that I never said. Besides that, the water feature at the Monroe's has been decorated with things that are strangely familiar. The items around the pond there give me the impression that my children are being held captive someplace where the Monroe's have control and access to them. The items around the pond individually are not important, but like the words in a book are unimportant individually on their own become important and compose the book when they are written in the order that tells a story, these items around the pond at the Monroe's are like a book. I can read the pond. What the pond says seems as though one or both of my children wrote a book out of items at that pond. The pond says, if I read it through the eyes of my children, fight terrorism with a can of Aquanet Hairspray, when you answer the door and there is a terrorist with Nitrous Oxide standing there, spray the Aquanet, and light the hairspray with a lighter as it is sprayed. The Aquanet hairspray will ignite like a flamethrower and will ignite the nitrous oxide poison gas that is being released at the from door when a terrorist with Nitrous Oxide shows up. That is the long reading, the short reading is that The person who wrote the idea into the objects around the pond that can be used to say "Aquanet with a flame can ignite the terrorists" is being held in captivity. The pond there indicates that my children are being held in captivity and I have no way to know where or how to find them. There is personal information for my family built into the objects around the pond water feature at the Monroe's, and the pond there has a recording device that is used to record everything that I say. The Monroe's are the only terrorists that I know of who do not use the rectally holstered nitrous oxide tanks, otherwise, they would have been killed a long time ago.

StoneMan .Warrior - 2018-09-26T03:11:47-0400

September 25, 2018: 11:38 pm: The notion of dental implants that broadcast the voice of the victim who has one should be of great concern to those who are in the business of national security. If I have one, than anyone can have one. I strongly advise anyone who can read this information to be mindful of people who have the ability to listen with a receiver. I know I gave one because I was mindful of the sound of my own voice when I could hear my own voice coming from the ear peace of a terrorists who had secret communication and was standing right there in front of me while I was having a conversation with the terrorist who could hear me that way. I strongly advise that everyone in government be checked for broadcasting devices that could have been placed there by terrorists doctors and dentists. Anyone who has dental work, or has had a root canal, or has had invasive surgery, even arthroscopic surgery could be used to place a broadcasting device with the human body. Be advised that the technology required for very small broadcasting devices and the batteries that power them has been in use this way since the early 1980's. Sometimes, technology is throttled such that the public is not aware that a particular technology is available. Consider that the terrorists are in very great number and have specialized uses for a variety of ideas that get invented simply for the purpose of doing terrorists activities. Normal ways that inventions come about are as a result of finding a useful application for technologies that are available. Terrorists have a way of thinking differently than normal people who advance technology for a given use. Normally, any technology that is found to have an application that can be manufactured and sold to those who can use the technology is done with the idea that there needs to be a sizable market for a product that will be willing to pay an amount of money that is greater then the cost of producing the items of usefulness. Things that are too expensive to bring to market because of the high cost of production is more than the people would be willing to pay to have such products, is not a concern for the terrorists. The Seventh Day Adventist Screen Actor Guild variety of terrorists are very wealthy at the command level. They are not concerned with production costs. The usefulness of an item of a given technology, such as very small broadcasting implantable microphones with batteries that last more than ten years, is not measured with a profit in mind. Instead, these kinds of terrorist specific products are manufactured with the goal of world domination in mind, not a profit in the form of money. The only profit of concern to the terrorists is it's usefulness towards the advancement of the terrorist agenda. Even if it cost one thousand dollars to fit every American with a dental broadcasting implant, they will do it since the profit is measured in secrecy, and the advancement towards the goal. There are a number of terrorist specific technologies that would defy the normal ways that products come to market. Cost of production is not a factor, usefulness is the only factor. I advise that US congress members, and those in the Military, be checked for bodily implants that can either broadcast voice, or even broadcast the GPS location of an individual. If the terrorists can know exactly where a particular individual is at any given time on planet Earth with a GPS broadcasting implant, than more importantly to the terrorists, they know where that particular individual is not. Knowing where an important person is not, is the same as knowing where it is safe for them to strike without fear of being caught. I have been wondering what the term "Fusion GPS" could mean in terrorist terms. The people I know to be terrorists on You Tube love to talk about "Fusion GPS" from time to time. Could they actually be speaking in a coded sort of way regarding the real world advancement of GPS implants into important people? Yes. They could be speaking in a code about such an advancement. Perhaps the surface story about the company called "Fusion GPS" is a bullshit manufactured cover for a bigger, more devastating world problem than normal, non terrorists could ever imagine.