The morning of May 12th 1864 was bright and already warm, the sun having risen, clearing the early mist, over an hour ago. The previous day had seen s...veral inches of heavy rainfall, and now, baking in the ever-increasing heat of the morning, the slippery, thick mud was beginning to harden and rut. As the two men approached the small raised platform, the General stopped in those rutted tracks to stare. “Good God man, what have you done to the post?” Sherman’s brow furrowed as his junior. On this one occasion I had been running the same circuit through a small section of woodland for about a month. Three to four times per week. I often saw a young lady along the same trail; sometimes running in opposite directions, and sometimes following her round, tightly clad bottom for a short distance.We exchanged smiles, and the odd, breathy 'Morning.' as we ran by each other.One particular morning I awoke, cock rigid (as is often the case) and pulled on my running shorts and tee-shirt and. * Fact - reality seemed to change to explain the differences in me.As I sat pondering my situation, it suddenly occurred to me. Whileinternal organ transplants were certainly fairly routine in today's world,limb transplants were not. I should be able to find some information onthe web about my transplant.Moving to our home office, I began to search for hand transplants notingthat it was not particularly easy to type with one hand. Sure enough, Ifound what I was looking for. It was so. Carol was lucky her brother rented her his old house only charging her enough to pay for the taxes. Her husband left five years ago for a seventeen year old he'd met in the arcade at the mall, and it seemed that every day since was a struggle. He, of course, disappeared so he wouldn't have to pay any child support, "And what was he doing in the arcade anyway?" she asked herself for the umteenth millionth time. She'd always told herself she really didn't want to know the answer to that.
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