Nancy and Peter were at a conference together. Nancy, tall and thin with strong features and a stronger will was planning on going to bed early to be fresh for the lectures in the morning. Peter, sweet natured and fun-loving, wanted to go out and party. He convinced Nancy to go out to a club.
After a couple of dances, Nancy decided to go home, Peter still out on the floor shaking his booty.
On the way home, Nancy ran into a crowd of people. She weaved her way through them to see what the problem was. There was a man on the ground, writhing in pain. Nancy slipped away down a back alley and quickly slipped on her mask.
"I can help you!" Nancy cried, rushing forward.
"Who is that masked woman?" everyone shouted. Nancy ignored them all. With superhuman speed and precision, she performed open-heart surgery on the man, so quickly that no anesthetic was needed. Moments later, the man wobbled to his feet. Wiping the sweat off his brow, the man turned to Nancy and shook her hand.
How can I ever thank you? Please tell me who you are." Nancy shook her head and smiled calmly at the man.
"No need to thank me. All in a day's work." With that, Nancy lept into the air and flew off over the roofs of the buildings. The man called after her, "You're my hero!"
Meanwhile, Peter was dancing up a storm in the club, shaking his groove thing. Suddenly, a group of terrorists rushed in, guns in hand.
"Everyone, stop shaking your groove things! We're taking you all hostage!" Everyone ran screaming in various directions, until the terrorists shot a warning shot in the air. Everyone stopped, their groove things still shaking but for different reasons. Peter started inching his way toward the bar.
"Everyone stay quiet and you'll get out alive. We just want our demands met."
Peter inched closer to the bar, finally leaping behind it. Like all good bartenders (at least in movies and bad short stories), the man had a shotgun behind the bar. He was cowering under the sink, though, all thoughts of shooting people gone from his mind. Peter, however, grabbed the gun without a second thought. He made sure it had shells, stuck a few extra in his pockets, and with a quick steadying breath, he jumped onto the bar.
With a mighty shout, he began shooting. His superhuman reflexes allowed him to wound two of the men, reload, and take out the rest before a single shot came toward him. With a jaunty blow across the barrel of the gun, Peter tossed it back behind the bar. He jumped down, and peering under the sink he said, "Can I get a whisky please? The night's still young."
Peter danced the night away with every young girl in the club, each of them wanting to dance with their hero.
Thanks for sponsoring me, guys! You're my heroes!
Well, here's an interesting piece of news, from People Magazine:
For Steel, a French Kiss
Who says the French are snobs? At a July 10 ceremony in Paris, bestselling romance novelist Danielle Steel was made an Officer of the Order of Arts and Letters by France's Minister of Culture and Communication for her contribution to literature. (Rank goes from knight to Officer to Commander.) Steel, 54, author of such romances as Passion's Promise, Season of Passion and Loving, took her place among a canon of esteemed writers that includes Salman Rushdie, Isabel Allende and Margaret Atwood. "I don't write like Shakespeare," Steele said. "But I think there is a certain amount of merit to what I do."
Boy, I wish I'd read that about 3 hours later, because I really need to lie down now.
I'm participating in the 24 Hour Blogathon for charity. I'm updating my site every 30 minutes for 24 hours. I'm getting loopy from sleep deprivation and heavily caffeinated. But I hope to make a lot of money for Global Fund for Women which supports women's human rights organizations around the world. Please sponsor me by clicking the Blogathon button below my pic on the left or by clicking this link and filling out the form. Thanks.