A short story written by Mary Fewko

This story is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Similarities to real people, alive or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Mary Fewko

SMASHWORDS Edition 2015


The bad luck gods had accents like New Yorkers. Their blessings appeared to have come with a fine print, with handshakes, with speedy departures to hotels off the grid. Idols masked with metallic vision and cruel laughter.

Poor Dan Stone thought about all this as his growling stomach breached protected limits. Dan had not eaten in a very long time for the paranoia of being poisoned had seized the human requirement.

It wasn't just a matter of not eating out and preparing his own food in his swanky apartment, the worry had roots in a deeper suppositional. Dan assumed agents attempting to destroy him were tainting the food at the grocery stores, based off his previous purchases. Even if he attempted to get something new, the cashier still had to put it in the bag... oh, poor Dan.

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