Have you ever made love to a woman over a foot taller than yourself? I have, I do it all the time. I’m doing it right now, in fact. Sorry, but that’s as graphic as I’m going to get. So if you’re looking for details, gory or otherwise, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you won’t get them here. This is not that kind of a story.

The thing that makes it easy to find women so much taller than me is that there are so many of them. I’m five foot nothin’, and that’s in my sneakers. You might think that this would be a disadvantage when it comes to women, and for the most part, you’d be right. But contained within every liability there is the seed of opportunity. At first I only went for short women, figuring that my limitation would be mitigated. I was wrong in this regard, and it took me years to figure this out. The problem with short women is that deep down they want a tall man to balance out their genes.

And that’s what it all comes down to, genetics. No matter how much we try to kid ourselves, we are all animals. Really smart animals with thumbs. The sex drive is one of the strongest drives in any species, and the thing that drives it is genetics. Every sexual act is driven by a base, subconscious desire to produce attractive children. In the service of this drive, we are drawn not just to the beautiful and powerful, but to the suitable. (more…)

Ben Farnsworth rode through the canyon, his left arm in tatters. He held the pommel of his saddle with his right hand, and steadied himself. On either side of him the cliffs rose to tremendous heights; how he got to this place he did not know. He had lost a lot of blood and his mind was wandering. His horse kept plodding through, going forward to where he knew not. The dizziness was getting stronger with the loss of blood, and he knew he had to do something. He stopped the horse and got off, dropping to his knees on the rocky soil and grunting in pain. He got back up, and taking the leather thong that held his bedroll on the horse, untied it. He used that to tie a tourniquet on his arm, lest he bleed to death.

A slow rain started to fall, and he needed to seek shelter. Some kind of rock outcropping would work for him, for he wasn’t picky. Maybe even a shelter under some brush that had fallen down. He looked around him, and saw nothing but vertical rock. He turned to his left, and thinking he was seeing a hallucination, walked towards the black hole that showed itself. He soon came upon an overhang, where he could make a small fire and rest. Hopefully he’d ridden fast enough to elude his pursuers, although he doubted it. As soon as the rain let up they’d be on him like a hound to a scent, intent on pursuing him until they came across his body. Well, he thought, he wasn’t going to let them do that. They’d have to earn their pay this day. (more…)

The man in the white coat stares at me. “No one knows where you are,” he says finally, as if it’s some kind of big revelation.

“Not yet,” I say.

His eyes narrow. What’s he thinking? Did I not lay out my story in the most explicit way possible? Isn’t it clear that I’m turning myself in?

“As chance would have it, you’ve stumbled upon the right place,” the man says, standing up for the first time. He’s tall like me, around six foot five, but skinny and older, evidenced by his gray hair and the lines etched around his mouth and eyes. His white coat hangs on his narrow frame like a sheet in the wind, making him appear a little goofy, but his eyes are serious and intelligent. He reminds me of a scientist I might have seen on TV when I was a kid; full of knowledge that I could never begin to understand.

“I’ll send some food,” he says closing the door as he leaves.

I get out of bed, clothed in a clean, tightly fit white robe. My legs and arms are stiff and ache. Large gauze pads cover my biggest wounds. I don’t try the door. If they come for me, then they come for me. I sit in a white plastic chair. Where the heck am I anyway? Some kind of hospital? Everything in the room is white; the walls, ceiling, table, bed, covers and even a little toilet in the corner.

(more…)

“There’s an ordinance against carrying weapons in this town.”

Wicks instantly knew the voice and put his whiskey down on the old rickety table in front of him. He could hear the spurs ringing louder and louder off the dirty wooden saloon floor as they came closer to him. “Deputy Palmer,” Wicks spit out with a sly grin. “You’re a little outside of your jurisdiction.”

Palmer pulled back his duster to show off the marshal’s badge pinned to his chest. “I’ve increased my range.”

“Well shit marshal,” Wicks laughed, “look at you climbing up the corporate ladder. Pretty soon they’ll make you a robber baron of law enforcement.” (more…)