Rodney Trotter Novelas e Histórias

Fred says as his voice begins to break and his eyes fill with tears. "And it tore me apart to see you so sad. I decided to make it my mission to get my shit together for you. Because I wanted you to see that even though I was the total opposite from your pops...a man that had it all. A good family, a good business, and a good career. Then, look at me? A high school drop out, struggling from pay check to pay check. You remember when you came? We lived in the outskirts of town on a rundown mobile home." Russell smiles, lowering his head and sighing.

“My house was broken into. They were chasing me. I didn’t have chance to grab my phone, I didn’t know what to do.” Realisation hit me over what had happened and what I had done to this poor man stood in front of me. “Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry.” I started to ramble. He placed both hands on my upper arms, the contact was gentle and grounding. “What’s your name?” He asked softly. “Leah, Leah Garrison.” “Leah, my name is Logan Carter.” He paused, watching me carefully. “You said your house was broken into?” I nodded as the adrenalin was leaving my body; the shakes started to set in, and weakness soon followed.

Trotter came in to her ward on the third morning, Harriet begged her to check Ellen wasn’t in the mortuary. When the Assistant Matron returned saying the only death in the past day had been an old soldier who’d fallen down the stairs and broken his neck, she was at first relieved. “That weasel Lynton Brown brought him in.” Mrs. Trotter’s round face shone with indignation. “Do you know, he wheeled Titus Sproat in on a barrow and tipped him out on the floor like a sack of potatoes? When I told Brown to have more respect for the dead, he said, ‘He’s beyond any pain now, ain’t he, Miss Fusspot,’ snickering in that foul way he has. The nerve of the man.”

“Pops slipped and sprained his ankle in the rain last night, bad enough to have the doctor tell him to stay home and prop it up for a couple of days.” “Why, that poor man. I’ll have to take him a casserole this afternoon. You tell Dixie not to worry about feeding him tonight. It will be taken care of.” “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure Pops will appreciate it.” “Well, my goodness gracious, where are my manners? You can’t very well tell her I’m taking over a casserole if you don’t know my name, now, can you? Silly me. My name is Ima Trotter, and yes, I’ve heard all the jokes, so don’t waste your time making fun of my name. I worked at the Tribute Post Office from 1952 to 1990. Was postmaster the last thi

He couldn't wait for that to happen and he'd surely get the most out of it. ********** Trevor groaned as he landed several punches on the bag before him. He had been going on for a while now and he was doing so to relieve the tension within him. Working on the instruments in the enormous gym room which was underneath his building made him relieved within a few minutes. He only needed to land several punches on the punching bag and run on the treadmill for him to calm down. But he had been working on both for a few hours and the tension was still lodged in him. Heck, it seemed to multiply as his thoughts became intense.