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From the Editor -
Corinne Smelker
Heaven Bound
Featured Story
HeavenPolar Opposites
By Corinne Smelker

"Slow down! Slow down!"

"Why? Iím doing the speed limit." I said

"Thereís a Yield sign up ahead, at the freeway exit."

"So? Itís their yield, not mine." I kept my speed at a steady 65 miles per hour as we headed for the exit.

"But not everyone obeys the yield, they blow right through it, you could get into an accident," he said forcefully.

"Well, then thatís their problem isnít it? They would be at fault." I calmly replied.

He was almost screaming now, "Youíd choose to get into an accident, perhaps even risk death, just to prove you were right?"

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By Linda Germain

Someone is calling my name. Is it my mother? No, wait, it couldnít be. It must be my wife. Why doesnít she leave me alone?

"Mr. Durdle!" insists the voice, though not unkindly.

"Open your eyes, Sir. I have to draw some blood."

Blood? Hey, this must be a hospital. Painfully, I manage to raise one heavy eyelid to see the face of a smiling young woman. Whatís going on? Iíve a mind to tell her if she thinks this is funny, sheíd better think again.

"Uh, Uh, UhÖ"

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HeavenThe Reorganization of P.C.T. International
Glenn A. Hascall

† The press conference was running late; Bunny McBride sat idly twisting her ring while reading the latest news on her palm pilot. She knew she had to come up with a story fast so she was checking her history and related facts and was compiling her story before Peter showed up to pass along whatever bit of news he thought relevant this year.

A muscle-bound goon was walking up to the microphone, she could see the other reporters jockeying for position and turning on their mini-disc recorders hoping for that perfect sound bite for the next newscast. She even saw a couple of satellite trucks to the west waiting to broadcast live to some of the major networks. This year was a bit different though, fewer news people were making the journey to Coney Way to catch the latest.

† McBride had been here before and she watched as the crowd of reporters calmed down after Ďhisí bodyguard checked the microphone, adjusted his glasses and left the stage. Ah, there he was making his way to up the stairs. From hidden speakers came the music strains of, "Eye of the Tiger". McBride smiled at the obvious pageantry, it was almost enough to make a jaded news reporter giggle. Almost.

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