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Pat Ritter. Books


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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Fri Jan 16, 2015 9:41 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 24:

Send In The Clowns

A circus with wild animals, acrobats, and clowns were the highlight of the year. Excitement rushed through my veins each time we heard a circus coming to our town of Roma. Eager to witness the huge tent pitched, my mate and I gathered at the grounds to witness the many workers going about their chores.
My friend Jimmy and I watched the cavalcade of vehicles arrive so we wouldn’t miss anything. This became our annual adventure witnessing the rising of the tent, hammering in steel spikes, thickness of a man’s arm, fastening ropes to hold everything in place.
Apart from the excitement witnessing this event coming together watching people do their normal tasks like ants working together to make a show for the townsfolk, our eyes bulged from their sockets when wild lions roared from their cages.
Time for the show, Jimmy and I wanted to go. We knew our parents couldn’t afford the costs so each Sunday we collected soft drink bottles from around the football grounds and cashed them in to receive sixpence per bottle. Between us we saved enough to attend the circus and buy a drink and peanuts.
We sat on the bottom row of old wooden seats in front where the performers entered the centre. A roar from the crowd alerted the beginning. Each seat filled to capacity. The Ringmaster welcomed everyone and shouted ‘on with the show’ through a megaphone.
First to enter the ring were small horses with monkeys riding them. Around the centre of the circle each horse galloped with a small monkey holding on tight. Next to arrive were the trapeze artists who swung between poles, catching each other by the arms or legs. Our hearts almost jumped from our chests to witness their skills.
‘Send in the clowns’ a roar from the crowd erupted when five funny looking clowns dressed in baggy attire entered the centre ring. One clown held a water bucket, ran over to where Jimmy and I sat and threw the contents of the bucket over us. Everyone laughed and cheered when pieces of paper showered over us instead of water. The show went on until midnight.
More than fifty-five years has passed since Jimmy and I visited the circus in our town of Roma and we still laugh when the crowd called out, ‘send in the clowns’ and the moment we were drenched with paper instead of water; wonderful memories of a great childhood when a circus visited our town.
Word count:421
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Jan 17, 2015 9:41 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 25:

Sound Of The Distant Train

When growing up in our childhood danger never crossed our minds. Like for instance catching yabbies at the local dam whilst holding onto a piece of string with a lump of meat tied to the end, we enjoyed each moment especially when a yabby grabbed hold of the meat with its claw and wouldn’t let go.
One of the ways to release the yabby, to grab it by the back of the neck and pull until it let go of the meat, quite a struggle, then when the yabby broke loose, place the yabby into a bucket with the others already captured cover with water and weeds. Each moment enjoyed. I doubt if children today would be allowed to do similar outings on their own. Our parents had no idea where we went as long we arrived home before dark and no questions asked.
Another trick we got up to by placing a penny coin on the railway line when the sound of the distant train approached. I remember three of us would place a penny coin at different intervals along the track when we heard the approaching train in the distance.
After placing our pennies on the track, we’d hide in the bushes and wait for the train to approach and see which of the penny coins flattened the most. Our hearts almost leaped from our chest in anticipation hearing the train come closer and closer.
Hiding in bushes still able to keep an eye on the penny coin, the train came closer and closer. Our faces solemn and our bodies almost shaking in anticipation if the penny coin would force the train from the tracks, still waiting to witness this event, closer and closer the train came to the position on the track and instantly rushed by, the driver unaware of the coins on the track.
Soon as the train disappeared into the distance, we scurried from our hiding place and ran to redeem our coins. Believe it or not penny flattened, almost welded to the railway track.
We never knew at the time we were disfiguring the face of Her Majesty, or breaking the law, only we had fun and excitement in witnessing a distant train run over three copper pennies, the weight of the train flattening them to almost paper thin.
Only once we did this exciting act because in those times one penny was worth twenty hard boiled lollies which tasted much better than a flattened one penny coin.
Word count:422
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Jan 18, 2015 11:01 pm

Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 26:

Superior Beings

At different times of my life events happened I couldn’t explain. Far back as I remember someone or something guided my life. Perhaps a superior being sent to look after me.
When I think about the many times my life has been saved by this imaginary superior being, I thank whoever or whatever in saving me from myself.
My journey through life has been interesting to say the least. Perhaps if I started from the beginning to explain my thoughts sufficient evidence shows to identify a superior being always looking over my shoulder in time of need.
Early in my life, about six years old, I became a rescuer. To explain, I’ll share a story illustrating my reason for thinking this. At aged six years old a friend named Peter lived three doors from my home.
My parents owned bicycles, one black and the other pink. Peter rode the black one whilst I rode the pink one. One day Peter asked my father if he could purchase the black one; my father sold Peter the black bike.
We continued to ride our bikes and one day I asked Peter to ride his bike, to which he replied in a strong voice, No! I couldn’t understand his reasoning because I always loaned him the bike before his purchase.
Our lives went in different directions and after fifty years Peter contacted me ‘out of the blue’. He wanted the names of pupils in our grade 1 school photograph.
After identifying some I needed to travel to Brisbane and search the archives to determine the others. Upon finding the proper information I sent Peter the information who at the time lived in Adelaide.
Later that year I travelled to Adelaide and arranged to meet him and his family, to catch up with each other after fifty year absence. Actually I thought I was doing the right thing to be sharing our lives since we last seen one another.
We met and greeted each other, not in the same manner as I’d imagined, but when I produced the information Peter needed, he reverted to the person fifty years before. At that moment I realised nothing changed between us, once he obtained the information he needed from me, he cast me aside.
Memories flooded back to when he didn’t want me to ride his bike. Disappointed and rejected, however, at that moment calmness swept through my body relieving all sense of anger and disappointment. I’ve never seen nor heard from Peter again. Was my superior being helping me once again?
Word count: 430
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Jan 19, 2015 10:08 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 27:

The Best Things Happen By Mistake

After writing my memoirs and thinking about my life, I saw in my mind’s eye a power greater than anything on earth. This power developed in my mind showing huge tentacles with no body. At the time I wasn’t using drugs and my mind clear.
Walking through thoughts of my life journey, I discovered many different events which happened along the way. Most of these events happened by mistake. Like for instance, at aged twenty-one years old I wanted to escape the city and work in the country.
In those days when one looked for a position of work in the country you visited the ‘Unemployment Bureau’ at your local suburb. I gained employment as a ‘Station Mechanic’ on a property named ‘Dyvenor Downs’ west of Cunnamulla in south-west Queensland.
After three days travelling by train and mail truck I reached the property to find I was the only ‘Station Mechanic’ for the one million acre property. Prior to leaving the ‘Unemployment Bureau’ they told me I would be one of about six ‘Station Mechanics’ working on the property.
Over the following six months I repaired machinery, de-sexed lambs, and enjoyed a great time living in the wild west of South-west Queensland getting to know the locals and their way of life. A huge lesson in life.
This wouldn’t be the final time I worked in the area. Another best thing happened by mistake when after I joined the Queensland Police and transferred to Cunnamulla.
This time I met my future bride and married. Over time we visited Cunnamulla and again transferred to the town this time as a detective in the Criminal Investigation Branch.
There is an old saying, once you cross the Warrego River you’ll cross it many times’. This saying is true because I first crossed the Warrego River at twenty-one years of age and crossed it many times since.
After penning my memoirs and viewing the evidence from the words I wrote, I am convinced the best things happen by mistake for many places I’ve been in my life only go to prove there is a higher power than we know exist and this power uses its huge tentacles to guide us throughout our lives, meet people who help us or take us into a different directions.
Word count: 390
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Tue Jan 20, 2015 9:28 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 28:

The Blind Beggar Girl

Crystal sat on the pavement with a tin cup in one hand, a sign 'Please Give To The Blind' in the other. Passer-byers placed a donation into Crystal's cup. When the sound of coins hit the bottom of the cup, she'd reply, 'thank you'. This is what she did each day since she could remember from aged five years to her now present age of twenty-one.
She'd lived at the local Blind Institute since her parents died in a car crash when she was five years old. Strapped into a car seat in the rear of the vehicle, she survived the crash however from that time onward she was blind. Doctors couldn't tell if her blindness was a result of the car crash or the loss of her parents.
Happiness was always in her life. She lived each day as if it was her last. Day upon day she took up her position at the same location on the footpath. Each donation helped being a beggar. Often her thoughts went to a better life; however at this stage after sixteen years of begging she'd survived.
Crystal's dark world wasn't all bad. Her hearing was excellent, as well as her other senses. She often asked a passer-by the name of the scent they wore.
One cold morning in middle of June a warm coat of hair rubbed against her side and a noise she couldn't make out at first what it was. She smelt animal breathe on the side of her face a tail struck her leg. Dropping the sign to the ground her hand swept along a coat of hair. 'Good-day boy,' she whispered as a tongue lick the side of her face. 'What's your name?' She asked.
A stranger said, 'I'm Toby and this is my dog Rufus. We've come to save you. I'm blind and Rufus is my eyes. May I sit with you?' This stranger asked.
As if by instinct Crystal moved her body to allow this stranger to sit beside her. 'Do you beg?' She asked the stranger.
'No, I don't beg. I don't need to. I wanted to ask why you beg?'
'I need to so I can stay at the Blind Institute to help pay my way.' Embarrassed to share her feelings with a total stranger but with the warmth this stranger showed she decided to tell him her story. 'How long have you been blind?' She asked.
'All of my life.'
'Why don't you need to beg, like I do.'
'I have sufficient money to keep me and Rufus.'
'Why are you interested in what I do?' She asked.
'I want to help you.'
'How? I don't need help. I'm happy doing what I'm doing.'
'Call me your guardian angel. I don't want you to beg any more. Come with me and I'll look after you.'
Could she trust this stranger. Would he actually help her? These questions raced through her mind. 'Are you telling me the truth?' She asked.
'Believe me, it's true. I want to help you. Would you please let me help you.'
'I'm right doing what I'm comfortable with and begging on this spot is what I want to do.' She wasn't comfortable speaking to this stranger.
'Okay Rufus, she's turned us down. Come on let's go and leave this lovely girl to beg.' He stood. Footsteps faded into the distance.
She returned to her begging and to this day she continues to beg for she is The Blind Beggar Girl.
Word count:589
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Wed Jan 21, 2015 9:48 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 29:

The Cabbie Who Knew The Way

In 1965 aged 17 years old I visited my parents who at the time lived at Blacktown, a Sydney western suburb.
Uncle Bobby, my father’s brother held a cabbie license and drove his own cab. He picked my parents and me up at Blacktown to show us the sites of Sydney.
His cab, 1964 Holden Eh Sedan, grey with pink. When he picked us up from my parent’s home he told me to drive. I couldn’t believe my Uncle Bobby would give me an opportunity to drive his cab. I loved it.
Little did I realise at the time, because of my age, I couldn’t enter licensed premises and whilst I waited in the carpark, my parents and uncle entered the licensed premises.
Many hours later they returned to the cab with me sitting behind the wheel waiting for them. In those days the cabbie had no radio, only a meter to charge the customer. I never worried about waiting for I’d waited for my father many times before while he went for a drink.
With my uncle and parents over the top filled with alcohol I became a golden boy who drove them home. This didn’t concern me because only a couple of months prior to this event I’d gained my driver’s license and to drive a brand new Holden EH Sedan coloured grey and pink became a dream come true.
My uncle drove his cab for the remainder of his life until he retired at the Gold Coast. Ill health forced him to retire when shortly after he lost his life through a heart attack.
Driving in Sydney for most of his life he certainly had knowledge when taking customers to their destination. His stories intrigued me when he told me about drunken customers who had no idea where they lived but somehow he’d find an address to take them.
Uncle Bobby became one of the ole time cabbies who knew their way. Not like the cabbie of today who can’t speak or understand Australian nor read a map nor understand where they need to go.
On one of our trips we arrived in Adelaide and needed to hire a cabbie to take us to our hotel. Prior to departing the airport I explained the hotel where we needed to go. All I received in response, a nod of the head. The cabbie didn’t have far to take us to our accommodation because I could see the top of the hotel before we left the airport.
Either this cabbie had no knowledge where to go or he wanted to take us the long way around to charge us more fare. When I noticed he took the wrong turn, I commented he was going the wrong way and never changed direction.
Eventually we arrived at our destination and in disgust I told the cabbie what I thought of him. He made out he didn’t understand Australian language.
Word count:497
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Thu Jan 22, 2015 10:48 pm

'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 30:

The Case Of The Barking Butterfly

Bundy Quicksilver retired from Queensland Police Service over twenty years ago, his daily habit to switch on the early news to watch the happenings in the world of crime.
Alarm bells exploded in his mind when he saw the body of a woman lying in a gutter in the inner city streets of Brisbane. ‘Does anyone know this person’ broadcast across the airways.
Bundy’s eyes almost popped from his head when he sighted a close up view of a tattoo ‘The Barking Butterfly’, now faded from its glorious colour way back in the 70’s but still he identified the tattoo and instantly placed a name with the body.
His mind travelled back in time to when he first sighted the tattoo. The year 1970, only a couple of weeks prior he’d been sworn in as a constable with Queensland Police Service or Force it was known then.
Instead of serving in uniform, his role to be an undercover agent with the Licensing Branch, to seek out prostitutes and gaming dens. This particular night his task to visit the Wickham Hotel in Fortitude Valley and there pick up a prostitute and take her to ‘San Remo Brothel’ in Wickham Terrace with explicit instructions from his bosses ‘not to partake in any sexual activity’.
After trying his luck with twelve well known ‘girls of the night’ each didn’t want to go to San Remo but to a closer brothel, number thirteen became lucky.
‘Take me any where, handsome’ She replied holding Bundy by the hand and going with him to his 1964 Holden Utility parked in the car park.
Entering the foyer of San Remo Bundy paid the Madam for a room. Lucky number 13 grabbed his hand quickly dragged him to the room. Once inside she undressed and this is when Bundy sighted the tattoo on her right thigh ‘The Barking Butterfly’.
Lying on the bed naked Lucky Number 13 coaxed Bundy to undress and get into action for she needed to return to select another customer. His mind raced to find questions to ask while he focused on the tattoo.
‘What a beautiful tattoo’? He said looking directly at it.
‘It is nice, now forget about the tattoo and let’s get into action’. She started to rise from the bed.
A knock on the door, ‘Police, open up?’
Bundy opened the door to let his fellow officers into the room. Lucky Number 13 arrested.
Bundy never forgot ‘The Barking Butterfly’ tattoo or Lucky Number 13. Now she was no more. May she rest in peace?
Word count: 434
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.
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