#ACoupleofChoices Well, it's out there now. Go to Amazon and search for "Ajesh Sharma" or "A Couple of Choices". It's my book. On Amazon. Buy it, even if it's only me recommending it. Have I ever let you down? Ok, so you had to wade through my recipes to get to the juicy bits, and you had to put up with my very long-winded articles. But be that as it may, this is a short book. Easy…
I'm still here. Been busy as a bee. And I need your help. But before we get to that... we have to digress a bit. <Digression Alert: But why are bees always represented as being busy? Why not busy as an ant? Have you ever seen an ant lying around goofing off? No, right? But bees get all the credit for being busy, when, in fact, all they do is buzz around, pollinating flowers. Well, I guess…
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 The heavy black car eased slowly down the street. Fatty craned his neck left and right to inspect the houses as he steered the car. Beside him, Goon sat impassively in the passenger seat. "Not the most upscale neighborhood, Chief.", remarked Fatty. "Don't call me chief.", Goon stared straight ahead. "Ok, Boss!" "And don't call me Boss." Fatty looked over at him. Goon stared ahead, his face expressionless. Fatty refused to turn away…
<Looking for Chapter 1? Click this.>
Fatty walked in to the office to see Goon already there.
“Good morning, Chief! You’re up early!”, he said.
Goon gave a grunt and waved him over to his desk.
“This computer thing is very confusing”.
“Oh, it just needs getting used to. Give it a week and you’ll be teaching me tricks”, laughed Fatty.
Goon gave him a look.
“You’ve grown up. Become more of a (more…)
The phone rang and Goon picked it up.
“Detective Sergeant Goon? This is Gwen from Superintendent Johns’ office. The Super would like to meet you at 11 today. Would you please come around to my office around by 10:55. The Super does not like to be kept waiting. Thanks”
Goon replaced the phone and shifted uneasily in (more…)
<I met a fisherman on a cold autumn evening by the river side. I was preparing to leave and he was just settling in for a night of fishing. We got talking. His story was very simple. He was a taxi driver, uprooted from his native Bangladesh and transplanted thousands of miles away in chilly Canada. This is his story.>
It hadn’t always been thus, but Farook was happy now. He hadn’t been happy in the past, back when he lived with his mother, father and his younger sister and brother. He knew that now. Old enough to go on the daily fishing trip with his father, the fishing trip that cut his hands and wore out his muscles, the fishing trip that gave them their daily meagre earnings, Farook had known hunger and hard work. He’d been (more…)