Pat Ritter. Books

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 2:

The Gold Coin

In his day he didn’t have gold coins. The only gold he knew was dug from the ground or panned from a river. In his hand he held a two dollar coin and pondered.
His memory returned to his younger days as a boy growing up in the bush. Pounds, shillings and pence were the currency of the day. For a penny he’d buy twenty hard boiled lollies. When eaten, not all at once, had a tendency to break a tooth, these lollies lasted a month?
Work was scarce. When he could find work he was paid ten shillings a week. From ten shillings he gave his mother five shillings for board and lodgings. He kept the remainder. Life was simple – go to work, when he could found it and always paid his mother half of his earnings.
Over time many things changed in his life; he grew into a man and earned five pound a week. He thought by earning this amount per week he was a millionaire. His job hard; tough working repairing railway lines, hot days with cold nights camping under the stars.
One day he met the love of his life and married. Within a couple of years his family grew to five. His wage never rose beyond five pound per week. This amount gave him sufficient to support his wife and family. Instead of giving his wife half of his wage, he gave her the total amount and kept a small sum for his own needs.
On the 14th February 1966 everything changed. Instead of receiving five pounds per week, his wages suddenly increased to ten dollars. He actually thought he was a millionaire because he received twice as much after decimal currency began.
Unfortunately his thoughts of becoming a millionaire soon diminished because with the change in decimal currency, items he purchased doubled instead of staying the same value. A ten shilling note was now a dollar note. He knew the value of ten shillings however with a dollar the value dropped instead of rising.
Over the future years he witnessed changes with the one dollar note and two dollar note becoming gold coins. One dollar coin was larger than the two dollar coin.
His thoughts returned to the present. In his hand he held a gold coin and wondered what would be next.
Word count: 396
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499

[patritter]

Thank you dub for your thanks: here is the story for today: 'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 3:

The Proposition

Bundy Quicksilver visited his local post office. Lynette, the post mistress said, ‘Bundy, you have a parcel to collect, please sign here.’ She placed a sheet of paper before him and pointed to a spot next to his name. He signed for the parcel, she handed it to him.
‘It’s from the Commissioner of Police.’ He told her, ‘I wonder what it’s about. I haven’t been in the police for over twenty years.’
‘Well, open it and see what’s in it.’ The post mistress said staring at the parcel. It’s unusual to have a parcel from The Commissioner. This would make top gossip in this small town and she was the one to spread it.
Bundy tore the paper wrapped around the parcel to reveal a blue coloured case with the words POLICE SERVICE MEDAL embroidered in gold lettering. He opened the case to see two silver medals.
‘Can I have a look?’ Lynette asked.
‘You can present them to me if you like?’ He asked Lynette and handed her the case.
She took the medals from the case, ‘do I stand to attention and salute or just pin them on your shirt?’ She asked.
‘Pin them on and don’t worry about the salute, but thank you for doing me the honour to present them to me.’ A tear of gratitude welled in Bundy’s eyes. Pride took over and he felt humble and privileged to have been presented with these medals. He’d served twenty years and now received two medals for the service he performed.

When he arrived home he wrote a letter of appreciation to The Commissioner to thank him for his kind gesture. Words were difficult to find – the right words of appreciation. These words spoke from his heart. He’d thought he’d been forgotten.

One morning, a fortnight after sending the letter to The Commissioner, he received a telephone call.
‘Is that you Bundy – it’s The Commissioner of Police.’ The voice echoed over the telephone.
‘Yes – it’s me, thank you for sending me those medals. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate receiving them.’ Bundy replied.
‘How would you like to visit me sometime, I have a proposition to present to you.’ The Commissioner asked.
‘It’ll be my pleasure. Can I ask what it is?’ Bundy replied.
‘Yes – I want to give you an assignment only you can do. Are you interested?’
‘Yes Sir – to get back on the horse would be a delight.’ Bundy replied.
Word count: 415: Link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/246166

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 4:

I’m a Believer

I well remember the band ‘The Monkeys’ recorded the song, ‘I’m a believer’. It was a great song and uplifting.
Actually the song uplifted me to great heights. Anything I did in life, I honestly didn’t have enough self belief to carry out my first desire, until writing came along.
Don’t take me wrong, I did accomplish many things; however I wanted to climb my own personal mountain of achievement. To do this I needed to be a believer in my own ability.
To be a believer, the dream I had, needed to become the major focus to achieve. In the beginning a desire to achieve was uppermost in my mind; however the road to success was long and difficult to travel.
Along this journey I fell and stopped a few times until I made up my mind to tell my inner self – I am a writer. This was one of the toughest journeys I’d ever undertaken. Believing I was a writer.
Who would read my writing soon enveloped the many negatives to stop my climb to the top of my own personal mountain of success. Why would they want to read the words I wrote, became another negative stepping stone to slow my climb?
Persistence and consistency became my only attribute to achieve what I wanted. I wanted to be a writer. How much of a writer depended on the number of books readers purchased and read. I wanted them to enjoy reading the stories I wrote and published. Was this too much to ask?
The words, ‘I’m a believer’ echoed over and over in my mind. Without this self belief I doubt if I would’ve written or published a single book or story. These words drove me forward accepting the consequences of defeat or success.
What had I to lose? Nothing – do what I always wanted to do and do it with honesty and sincerity. Defeat wasn’t an option. What’s the worse could happen?
Finally only two years ago I reached the top of my personal mountain after a climb lasting almost twenty-four years. At times it’s been tough fighting my own self belief; however now I have reached the top of my writing desires only thrusts me onto climbing more personal mountains because I’m a believer.
Word count: 385
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 5:

Esmeralda

There she stood in the lust field of clover munching on the green grass. Her teats squeezed dry. Her mind to be a milking cow and nothing else, life had changed.
Prior to her being a milking cow she was a princess; her mother, the proud Queen of cows - her father the King Bull. What changed in her short life? Alas at birth she was taken from her mother and replaced by an awkward shaped bull calf. Large head, falling away to a huge hump, similar to a camel; most of the other calves ed at this new addition to the royal family.
Esmeralda was fostered to another herd on another farm. She missed her royal family and hoped to one day return. Until then, she lived the life as a pauper on another farm.
Life went on and in the following year Esmeralda grew into a glorious heifer. She was constantly visited by young bulls in the hope she may fall in love and breed heifer calves to increase the worth of the herd for the farmer.
Her memory instilled in her mind of her royal parents, proud and loyal to their owner. Many times she heard from the older cows about her replacement calf to understand he was a strange shape and nothing like her.
Esmeralda wanted to return to her parents to see for herself this new calf, which was now a Mickey Bull discarded by the other Mickey Bulls in the herd.
One night she made her escape to return to her parent’s herd. Sneaking into her old farm late one night she was accosted by a bull she’d never seen or imagined to be a bull. They eyed one another, ‘Are you my replacement?’ Esmeralda asked in a kind mo.
‘Are you Esmeralda?’ The Bull mooed in return.
‘Yes – you must be my brother?’ She mooed. His nod of the ill-shaped head instantly bought tears to Esmeralda. She’d always wanted a brother. They mooed all night to catch up with what’d happened since she was taken at birth. Her parents were still King and Queen.
When news spread of her return both parents were delighted to see her all grown into a glorious princess. Her coat glowed, her sharp horns glistened in the sun and a smile creased across her mouth. She wanted to stay with her brother.
After the milking of cows was finished the farmer saw the latest addition to the family and instantly noticed it was the calf he had given to his neighbour. Whether it was human-animal attraction, the farmer saw the family as one including the ill-shaped Mickey Bull. They were happy and he decided to keep them together.
And this is why Esmeralda to this day is a content cow delivering the highest class quantity of milk for her owner. She’s happy to be a sister to the ugliest Bull in the herd.
Word count: 489
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 6:

I’ll Never Try That Again

On the 21st of January 2012, my vehicle was involved in a road accident. This was the first road accident I’d personally experienced in forty-five years of driving.
It was an unfortunate incident because the driver of the other vehicle was well known to me. At the time I was more concerned no one was physically hurt. Vehicles can be repaired; however bodies take many years to recover.
Because my vehicle was insured, fully comprehensive, I never worried about the tow truck or the fees and costs because I knew my insurance company would pay all costs. Or so I thought at the time. It was a different story after the loss assessor examined my vehicle and decided it was beyond repair and to write-it-off.
Initially the lost assessor mentioned a pay-out figure of $4,500.00 would be paid by the insurance company for total loss of my vehicle. Lucky for him he was on the opposite end of the telephone as my words of astonishment filtered through the line.
Daily I telephoned the insurance company to determine who I may contact to talk to and explain my dilemma. Within two days I was cast to the winds of Australia speaking to faceless people on the end of the line. I spoke to a person in Adelaide trying to explain my unhappiness.
Eventually I spoke to a person who offered $6,100.00 settlement. Again my blood pressure rose above what it should have been. Not one person belonging to the company ever contacted me to keep me up-to-date with the progress of my claim.
After many hours of negotiating I settled on an agreed price of $7,300.00. Many hours of investigation to determine a fair figure to replace my vehicle I determined was $7,600.00. When I contacted the insurance company to clarify the amount we agreed on, they told me the amount would be transferred electronically to my bank account. They also told me because I pay the insurance monthly I had to pay for the remaining twelve months before the transaction would be transferred. Also to my astonishment no refund would be made available of the subsequent nine months payment of the policy.
To say I was flabbergasted was an understatement. From the beginning at the time of the road accident in which I was the victim, instead of feeling secure because the vehicle had comprehensive insurance, I’ve been screwed by the insurance company, in more ways than one.
I believe in honesty and fairness, however, after my personal experience with this particular insurance company, I’ll never try that again.
Word count: 437
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 7:

The Anthill

One of the funniest stories I’d ever heard was told by my uncle at my sister’s wedding. Uncle Vivian presented his talk at the wedding reception and spoke on behalf of the family.
To the embarrassment of my sister, and those who knew her most of her life, related to the story Uncle Vivian unfolded. It began when she was a small child, aged around five or six years old.
My sister always had a built-in personality, one which if she was angry, exploded like a volcano spitting volumes of lava onto anyone nearby. Her temper placed her in more trouble at any one time and; behold the person who was in the firing line.
On this occasion she visited our grandparents who lived on a cattle and sheep property in far western Queensland. We children rode in the back of an old Land Rover utility. Our job was to tell our grandfather if we sighted a kangaroo by hitting the roof of the cabin of the vehicle. Once we sighted one, our grandfather stopped the vehicle and shot the kangaroo. The kangaroo was thrown into the rear utility section with us kids. Further along my grandfather stopped the vehicle, dragged the dead kangaroo from the rear of the Land Rover to skin it.
At the time my uncle shared this story, his voice carried me back to when he described. Among the bush were hundreds and hundreds of mounds standing like sentinels. They were made from earth standing almost a similar height to a child six years old.
My uncle described how my sister needed to go to the toilet. My grandfather told her to go behind one of these sentinels so she wouldn’t be embarrassed.
Everyone at the reception was waiting for my uncle’s response to share with them ‘what happened next’. His sudden burst of ter with the words, ‘you should have seen her, she raced back to the vehicle with her pants down around her ankles, screaming she’d been attacked’.
My sister went behind an ‘anthill’. In her haste to finish what she was doing was attacked by meat ants from the colony of ants at the ‘anthill’.
Obviously she was embarrassed when this story was told at her wedding reception but she couldn’t believe our uncle would share the story with her wedding guests.
Word count: 394
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499

[patritter]

'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 8:

No Shirt – No Shoes – No Worries

Each month I visit my daughter and grandson in Brisbane. These visits have been a regular occurrence. It gives me time to be alone with my grandson; to seek out, what he’s been doing, such as rugby league; school and other activities in his life.
On my last visit, after picking him up from school we went to the local McDonald’s for ‘the pick of the shelf’ which he normally picks anything from the top shelf.
Whilst we enjoy one another’s company, our conversation got around to his playing rugby league. Last year his team won the premiership for under twelve years. Trials for under thirteen years were that night and the football boots he wore last year were too small. He needed a new pair.
I don’t know if it was a flashback to my day when I played rugby league, at a similar age to my grandson, my mind remembered I received a new pair of footie boots. My parents couldn’t afford to buy them. I remember a fellow who worked with my father at the time purchased a pair for me. I was delighted.
After some deliberation we visited a shopping centre and forty dollars less in my bank account later, my grandson had a new pair of football boots. He proudly wore them to the trails and afterwards discarded them soon after returning home with a no care attitude.
I don’t know if he appreciated my reason for purchasing the boots. I don’t think he did.
You see in our day we didn’t have gracious grandparents who splashed out on their grandchildren. My family weren’t poor, however, it was the custom of the day to wear no shirt, no shoes, and have no worries. No one cared how you dressed. Everyone was the same.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had a time machine, like the one Rod Taylor had in the film of the same name, to go back in time and show my grandson how we survived? I would show him when I was his age, I never owned a pair of shoes.
To escape from today opulence and take our grandchildren to a time when we were their age would certainly be a lesson of not wanting everything instantly. Would it make a difference? I doubt it somehow.
Everywhere we went, except days at school, often even at school, we went barefoot; wore no shirt, and definitely had no worries. We were kids after all living our dream in a country town.
Word count: 428
TO READ THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/270499