Life Struggles (Life Stories Book 1) Read Online Free

losing his hair maybe a year ago, and combing over the tightly-wound strands was not an option.
    His skin was a color that could be anything. It was darker than mine, but so were most Italians'. It was lighter than Marcus's, who himself was a relatively light-skinned African-American. Mottling from the alcohol abuse didn't help. I once asked him what his race was and he said “Kentucky Derby.”
    “How am I suppose' ta help?” he asked. “I'm just a fucking drunk.”
    “You ever do any programming for on-line games, you know, special programming they don't want people to see?” I stilled the hand ready to bring more beer to his mouth.
    “Yeah, do it from time to time,” Shorty allowed. “A couple a months ago I done somethin' for that “Real Housewives of Orgy City” game. Ya know it?” Never heard of it.
    “It's kinda like, ya know, the Simpsons?” Still no help.
    “OK. Well, they got this buncha big-boobed mostly naked sluts runnin' around. The purpose is to track em down and fuck em. It's online with a buncha players at the same time.” He looked as though that should explain it to me. It did not.
    “So, OK, like, they was wantin' to let the guys pick how big their dicks was gonna be. The game was open to anyone over eighteen. Or, anyone who could click a box sayin' he was over eighteen. Same difference.” Shorty wanted more beer and wanted it now. I could handle that. If he got too much booze in him he wasn't going to be any help. This was going to be a careful balancing act. Just like life. Ya know?
    “So I did what they ast. I didn't tell em how fuckt up it was gonna be, just did what they wanted. They was back in a week because all the sluts was pinned to the players. Every slut had a four foot long dick stickin' out of her and nobody could figure out howta separate them. It was hilarious. Beer, please.” I was beginning to doubt that Shorty was going to be much help, but he was on a roll.
    Interviewing 102 is about knowing how much the source needed to tell you. Almost everybody has a need to impart information about what they think is important. Until the source has met her or his need to I impart information the interviewer's agenda had to wait. Otherwise, the other guy or girl was answering your questions but really just thinking about what they wanted to say about their own topics. That didn't help with accuracy or completeness of the information.
    To sum that up, I allowed myself to complain inside, but outside I had a smile and all the patience in the world.
    Shorty smacked his lips. I liked beer. This guy lived for it.
    “Where was I?” The alcohol had destroyed enough brain cells that Shorty got lost from time to time. Such as from Monday through the following Sunday most weeks.
    I mentioned the sluts and the players pinned together with four-foot long dicks.
    “Oh, yeah. So, I did what I knew I shoulda done the first time and put a limit on how big a player could make his dick. They was real happy and they paid me twice. Life don't get no better than that, except with beer. Speaking of which….” I poured him some more.
    “Then they came back and wanted me to fix it so that the game could sneak through parental controls on kids' computers. I don't do that shit and told em so. They offered more money and I still refused. I got no job, no house, no family, almost no brains and zero self-respect. But I still got some standards.” Shorty was looking proud of himself. I didn't want to know the answer, so I didn't ask him how hard it would have been to penetrate parental controls on kids' internet access.
    “How do you get these jobs?” At last, I could start moving the conversation closer to what I needed.
    The one-time programming whiz beamed. “I been movin' up in the world and got me a agent.” Getting closer.
    “Who's your agent, Shorty?” Shit, I knew that expression. I had moved too quickly away from what he wanted to tell in the direction of what I wanted to hear.
    “Need