♠ Resolutions ♠

Start the new year right. Stop living from salary to salary. Achieve Financial Independence. Retire Early. Join the FIRE movement igniting the world.

Follow these weekly posts for solid advice on how to escape the rat race, covering material contained in Hard Money.

This is no get-rich-quick scheme. It won’t be easy. That’s why it’s called Hard Money.

Work while they sleep. Learn while they party. Save while they spend. Then live like they dream.

Read more about the FIRE movement – www.earnest.com/blog/retire-early/

Best of luck for 2022 and beyond.

♠ Merry Xmas (weekend) ♠

“Stompie? Is that you, you greedy bloodsucker?”

“Connor, you frigging oxygen thief. I’d recognize your rancid whisky breath anywhere.”

Connor smiled and nipped around the shelf, heading deeper into the store.

“Not over this stink, Stompie. What are you doing here, anyway? Did nobody tell you this shop closed a couple of years ago?”

Then he saw why Stompie was still here.

“Had nowhere else to go when it first happened.” Stompie looked away from his old customer. “Thought I might as well stay here, rather than my old shack. Then they came around, checking.”

“Looters?”

Stompie shook his head. Which was pretty much all he could do.

“I managed to scare them off. Still had the shotgun back then. But I’d run out of ammo by the time the cops came. You remember before the lockdown, when they tried to shake down those two ladies at the ATM?”

Connor remembered. It had been more than a shake down. Late at night, the parking lot deserted except for the ladies’ car and two police cruisers. It could have been bad, if Connor hadn’t stopped in on his way home and seen Stompie waving his shotgun at the furious officials standing over the half-naked victims.

“They never forgot that night. They never found you. But me…” Stompie finally looked up at his old friend. “They thought it was funny.”

Stompie’s legs had been sawed off just below the knees. Arms, below the elbows. Cauterized somehow, so he didn’t bleed to death. Although that might have been a blessing.

⛥

Read Big Day Out in weekly installments on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon, where you’ll find the whole mad mercenary romp through the dystopian nightmare that Covid-19 might have become. Might still become, if we don’t keep our self-appointed leaders on a very short leash.

Download FREE sampler previews of all my books – and some complete short stories – from PCloud at www.bit.ly/FreeBurning. Or read them on Kindle Unlimited.

No charge. No obligation. No sign-in. Read for free. Share with your friends.

⛥

Remember the Smashwords sale from 17/12 to 1/1. Free & discounted books, including mine. https://bit.ly/SmashBurn

⛥

For a different experience, listen to these weekly episodes as Spotify podcasts, Apple podcasts, or Google podcasts.

⛥

If you have a book you’d like to publish, contact me to claim your 15 minutes of bestselling fame at No.1 on Amazon. Find all the above details and links at www.amazon.com/author/burning.

In case you missed the link while listening to the podcast, that’s www.amazon.com/author/burning.

⛥

Cheers.

♠ Nicked ♠

The man in the red coat covered his nose and mouth. He was going to sneeze. He could feel it coming. Maybe if he scrunched up his nose… wiggled it from side to side…

“Achoo!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you alright in there?”

He considered the question. Pondered his response even more carefully.

“As well as can be expected. You could always change your mind. Just forget I was here.”

He waited expectantly for a reply, ears straining in an attempt to hear any clues that might indicate the other person’s mood.

“No, I don’t think so. They should be here any minute now.”

“Look, it was an innocent mistake. I’m dyslexic. I mixed up the house numbers.”

“So you keep saying.”

“The kids are waiting for me up the street. They’ll be worried.”

“You’ll be out of there soon. You can make your phone call.”

“What about all these presents?”

He heard a knock on a wooden door.

“That’ll be the police now. Let’s wait for them to get you out of my chimney before we look at what’s in your bag.”

⛥

Have a restful festive season. You deserve it.

http://www.amazon.com/author/burning

♠ Run runaway ♠

I’ve got my own problems. Fuel gauge reading half full. Or was it half empty? Connor had always been a half full kinda guy. That was good. What was not so good were the several black specks appearing in the bike mirrors.

The second buggery of drones in one day.

Connor twisted the throttle and gave the bike an extra kick of speed. He ramped over a speed bump and steered towards a more built-up part of the city.

The suburbs were no place to hide from drones. The mostly single-storey houses and wide roads provided no cover.

Did the roads still go that far? Would there be a road block? No time to worry about that now. Faded rusty road signs partially hidden by weeds directed him to the CBD.

There was no other traffic on the road. Lockdown law 28-C strictly prohibited that. If he did encounter a vehicle it would be bad news.

He checked the mirrors. He hadn’t lost the drones. They seemed to be getting closer. He wasn’t going to be able to outrun them.

“Petrol station. Perfect.” Connor steered the bike into the forecourt.

He slid the bike to a halt between the pumps and sprinted to what used to be the shop. The glass from the door had long been smashed. Shelves emptied, turned over, looted. Helpless people with their livelihoods taken away had to eat. Eat or die. He covered his nose against the smell and crouched behind an upturned shelf, drawing his weapon.

“They’ll have to come under the canopy to see where I am,” Connor told Shell.

“Who the fok are you?” the owner of the smell called from the far corner of the building.

⛥

Read Big Day Out in weekly installments on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon, where you’ll find the whole mad mercenary romp through the dystopian nightmare that Covid-19 might have become. Might still become, if we don’t keep our self-appointed leaders on a very short leash.

Download FREE sampler previews of all my books – and some complete short stories – from PCloud at www.bit.ly/FreeBurning. Or read them on Kindle Unlimited.

No charge. No obligation. No sign-in. Read for free. Share with your friends.

⛥

Catch the Smashwords sale from 17/12 to 1/1. Free & discounted books, including mine. https://bit.ly/SmashBurn

⛥

For a different experience, listen to these weekly episodes as Spotify podcasts, Apple podcasts, or Google podcasts.

⛥

If you have a book you’d like to publish, contact me to claim your 15 minutes of bestselling fame at No.1 on Amazon. Find all the above details and links at www.amazon.com/author/burning.

In case you missed the link while listening to the podcast, that’s www.amazon.com/author/burning.

⛥

Cheers.

♠ Heading out to the highway ♠

The wind in his face felt good. Stroking his beard and ruffling what was left of his hair. The pack on his back reassuringly heavy with life’s necessities. A gun and plenty of ammo.

The lingering image of a half-naked Charlotte was quickly replaced by the pressing matter at hand. Escaping Johannesburg’s finest. If Noecker was in charge, they would be the best he could find. He always was such a dick. His way or the highway. It took Connor just a few months to choose the highway. Operation Puma right at the beginning of lockdown had seen to that. Noecker gave the order to fire on starving civilians. Connor gave him the finger.

Turning left at the top of Acacia, he sped down empty residential streets. The high walls to either side would once have housed the upper-middle class. Corrupt government officials living next to the morally corrupt bankers and lawyers. Rubbing shoulders and discussing the next way of taking from the poor.

Maybe they were still there. Suffering with the rest, finally. Universal karma. More likely they bribed their way out and found better ways to exploit the poor in the country, far away from the mass populace. Far away from Covid-19.

⛥

Read Big Day Out in weekly installments on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon, where you’ll find the whole mad mercenary romp through the dystopian nightmare that Covid-19 might have become. Might still become, if we don’t keep our self-appointed leaders on a very short leash.

Download FREE sampler previews of all my books – and some complete short stories – from PCloud at www.bit.ly/FreeBurning. Or read them on Kindle Unlimited.

No charge. No obligation. No sign-in. Read for free. Share with your friends.

⛥

For a different experience, listen to these weekly episodes as Spotify podcasts, Apple podcasts, or Google podcasts.

⛥

If you have a book you’d like to publish, contact me to claim your 15 minutes of bestselling fame at No.1 on Amazon. Find all the above details and links at www.amazon.com/author/burning.

In case you missed the link while listening to the podcast, that’s www.amazon.com/author/burning.

⛥

Cheers.

♠ Charlotte the neighbour ♠

Turning back towards the hole in the fence, Connor spotted the bike’s owner in the kitchen window. Charlotte wasn’t wearing much. Some things never changed, even in isolation. She waved when she saw him, a puzzled smile gracing her dimpled cheeks. Connor blew her a kiss, then accelerated towards the alley.

Only one of the sprinting policemen managed to dive out of the way. The other one tried to use his face to stop the bike’s front tyre. It didn’t end well.

Then Connor was out of the alley, turning left onto Acacia Avenue and accelerating away from the shitstorm that used to be his life.

That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t used to moving away from things. He much preferred moving towards them. But for that, he needed a destination. Which required a plan. And plans had to be based on information.

The only information he had was that (allegedly) a mysterious woman had been seen leaving his yard, and had (possibly) planted an envelope for him (or the cops) to find.

Was that it? Was he being set up, after all this time? Why would they bother to plant evidence? The justice system had been scrapped.

Or was this the world’s most adventurous secret admirer delivering the most disastrous love letter ever? He smiled and got a bug in his teeth. Not the first woman to climb over his garden wall. But the way this day was going, it looked like she would definitely be the last.

⛥

Read Big Day Out in weekly installments on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon, where you’ll find the whole mad mercenary romp through the dystopian nightmare that Covid-19 might have become. Might still become, if we don’t keep our self-appointed leaders on a very short leash.

Download FREE sampler previews of all my books – and some complete short stories – from PCloud at www.bit.ly/FreeBurning. Or read them on Kindle Unlimited.

No charge. No obligation. No sign-in. Read for free. Share with your friends.

⛥

For a different experience, listen to these weekly episodes as Spotify podcasts, Apple podcasts, or Google podcasts.

⛥

If you have a book you’d like to publish, contact me to claim your 15 minutes of bestselling fame at No.1 on Amazon. Find all the above details and links at www.amazon.com/author/burning.

In case you missed the link while listening to the podcast, that’s www.amazon.com/author/burning.

⛥

Cheers.