Hi all! Well, my second book is out, sales are up, and it looks like it's going to be a great year for me. I wish the same for all of you.
MoogPlayer
P.S. This story is total fiction as are all of the characters and some of the places depicted so; to all of the wannbe critics, most of whom have never written a single word, keep in mind that ANYTHING can, and usually does happen in a fictional story.
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Hi, my name is Christopher Duquesne, Chris to my friends. And in case you're wondering how to pronounce my last name it's, "Doo-Cane," just like the hot blonde, Emily Proctor's character, on CSI: Miami.
I have dark brown hair and eyes, stand six feet, four inches tall, and weigh a solid two hundred and forty-five pounds. I'm almost fifty years old now, but I was barely twenty when what I'm about to tell you took place.
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I wanted to work for a couple of years after high school in order to have some money to help me through my first couple of years of college. I didn't need the money for tuition, as my parents had offered to pay for it as long as I made good grades. I have an older sister, Sara, to whom they made the same offer, but she and my brother-in-law chose to marry right out of high school instead.
I scored extremely high on my SAT's so; I knew that I would be able to apply for an academic scholarship and not have to ask my family for anything, Still though, I wanted to have some money of my own saved and socked away when the time came that I did want to go college.
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I applied for an academic scholarship to three different schools, and all three of them made me three separate scholarship offers, but now I was faced with the decision of having to make a difficult choice. I sought my sister's council and she made it easy when she laughed and simply said, "Why don't you go and visit each campus? See what each college has to offer; Chris, and maybe that might help you make a better choice."
"Thanks, Sis," I smiled, "I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome, sweetie," she giggled, playfully smacking the back of my head.
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I wanted to study English to maybe one day become either a writer or a teacher. I was also a member of the drama department in high school, where I won a couple of Best Actor Awards in the All-State Competition my Junior and Senior years, so; for fun, I wanted to minor in the theater arts. And with that in mind, I took my sister's advice and made it a point to go and visit the three colleges I'd received letters from.
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I live in Texas; about sixty miles south of Houston, and the three colleges I'd heard from were the University of Houston, Southern Methodist University, and Rice University. These were all very good schools, but SMU was in Dallas and that was a little further away from home than I cared to be. So, with that in mind, I hoped in my car and headed to Houston.
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To make short of what would be a long story, I toured both campuses, the U of H, and Rice University, afterward deciding on the U of H, who accepted me with open arms and a full four-year ride.
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Chapter One
I started classes the following fall semester of that year, which was 1980. Having already turned twenty in April of that year, I was older than your average freshman, but I didn't care, I was looking forward to receiving a good education. One of the stipulations of my scholarship, which I had personally negotiated, and of course my age had a lot to do with it as well, was that I didn't have to live in the dorms on campus.
And because I'd received a four-year scholarship and they weren't going to have to pay for it, my parents agreed to lease me a three-bedroom house near campus for the four years that I would be attending college.
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My first class, which was held every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, was English 101 with Dr. Bethany Howell. She was a very nice lady, somewhere in her early to mid forties, and I liked her the first time I met her. I knew I would do well in her class because of the fact that I was an English Major.
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My father had been a U.S Navy SEAL during the conflict in Vietnam, and had taught me Karate, Japanese Ninjutsu; from the time I was seven until I was old enough to legally wear a black belt at sixteen. He also taught me that I was to use it for "defense only", and that if I did otherwise, I would receive an ass kicking from him of universal proportion. Dad is a really cool guy that I love with all my heart. Anyway, back to the story...
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As I was walking across campus to my next class, I heard a commotion coming from behind the nearest building. I was walking that way anyway so; as I came around the corner of the building, I saw three larger students, who I later learned were football players, that had some kid cornered and were terrorizing him.
There's nothing in this world that I hate worse than a bully, and that's exactly what these three assholes were, bullies...fucking jock assholes. They were slapping this poor kid on the head and kicking him in the butt, and laughing like idiots.
"HEY," I shouted, making the three of them turn toward me, "Why don't you leave him alone?"
"Who the fuck are you?" the biggest of the three laughed.
"Nobody in particular," I replied, "Just someone who wants to know why you three cowards are picking on someone smaller than you."
"If I were you, I'd keep walking, asshole," he sneered, "Or face the consequences."
"If you leave him alone, you won't be harmed," I calmly warned, "If not, you will be the one who suffers the consequences, I assure you"
He moved toward me but not before receiving a hard kick in the balls, which brought him to his knees, allowing me to give him a hard roundhouse kick to face, knocking him out cold.
The second largest of the three tried to rush me, but was stopped with a hard spinning back kick to the solar plexus, which put him on the ground gasping for air.
The third one stood stone still, making me look at him and ask, "Well, what about it?" Needless to say, he fled in terror leaving his friends on the ground, one out cold and the other still trying to regain his breath.
"Are you alright?" I asked the kid who was still standing there.
"Yeah," he smiled, "I'm okay."
"I think you'd better get out of here," I told him, "Before these two idiots get up."
"Thanks a lot," he smiled, as we walked away, "My name is Kevin Welch, what's yours?"
"My name is Chris," I replied, extending my hand, "Chris Duquesne."
"It sure is nice to meet you, Chris," Kevin grinned, as we shook hands, "Those assholes have been messing with me ever since I was a freshman."
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know," he sullenly replied, "I've never done anything to any of those guys."
"Man," I said, "What a bunch of jerks."
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Granted, I may be over six feet tall, and although I might seem enormous in size, I'm not a fighter by any means. I believe in the old adage of "Live and let live", hence the reason I like to write as oppose to fight. I was taught that fighting was senseless and didn't really serve any purpose other than to defend one's self. I only had one more class that day, World History, and afterwards I went back to my house.
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I was sitting in the front room of my house watching the television that afternoon when I heard a knock on my front door. I was surprised to find Kevin Welch standing on my front porch smiling.
"Hey Chris," he grinned, "I hope you don't mind that I just showed up without an invitation."
"No, not at all," I smiled, opening the door, "Come on in."
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