Dave the Miracle Maker

A Bully Beat Down
Dec 10th 2011
One afternoon, I was picking my daughter up from school and our conversation turned to bullying. As you know, bullying is a big problem in our schools. My daughter said that her teacher told her that, “Violence is never the answer.” Me being the dad that I am had to disagree. Sometimes, violence is the only answer. It took violence to stop Adolf Hitler from taking over the world. It took violence to stop the Japanese after they attacked Pearl Harbor, it took violence to fight alkida after 9-11 and it takes violence to stop a bully on the playground.
I know the teachers tout zero tolerance and they say for your child to tell the teacher when a bully is picking on them, but that rarely works. What works, is when your child musters up his courage and punches the bully in the nose. When I was in school, after you gave a bully a good beat down, he usually wanted to be your friend. The thing is, that bullies in the schoolyard grow up, turn into adults and sometimes, they don’t grow out of their childish ways. They’re still bullies; only as adults, they usually use words instead of fists.
The main character in my science fiction novel, Tale Spinner is a timid young New York Accountant who likes to read. The office bully picks him on at work, but Brandon’s life takes a weird twist when he is teleported into the world of the Western novel he is reading at the time. Brandon finds himself, in Greedy Gulch, an 1880s boomtown. Brandon must learn to survive in a savage new land. The novel’s main character, a cowboy known as The Mojave Kid, takes Brandon under his wing and teaches him how to ride a horse, how to fight and how to shoot. In Greedy Gulch, the town bully won’t leave Brandon alone and Brandon has to give him a Bully Beat Down. Below is an excerpt from Tale Spinner.

At six PM, half drunk, I stumbled my way across the street and pushed my way through the batwing doors of the Last Chance Saloon. I pulled my coat up close trying to hold off the evening chill. A full moon lit the street, and Inside the Last Chance Saloon the air felt much warmer. McCoy had the wood stove going. The usual smells of tobacco smoke, stale alcohol and vomit drifted to me from across the room. Standing in the center of the barroom, I let my eyes grow accustomed to the dim light. Finally, I staggered to the bar.
“What’ll it be my lad?” Standing behind the bar, McCoy gave me a friendly smile.
“Make it a beer,” I said ignoring the cowboys lining the bar and the other patrons sitting at tables through out the room. Molly Brown sashayed up to me, and I caught a trace of her perfume. A sense of arousal penetrated the alcohol haze inside my brain. Molly rubbed my back with the palm of her hand. The touch of her soft hands sent chills down my spine. Something started to rise in my britches.
“You want to go upstairs, lover?” Taking a pull from the beer bottle, I slipped my arm around her.
“Maybe in a little while. I think I’ll have a few beers first.”
“Merryweather!” the bombing voice of Craig Barlow came from down the bar. “You little tin horn I thought I told you to stay away from my gal!”
“You don’t have to fight him,” Molly whispered. She leaned close to me. and her right breast touched my left bicep. Molly tried to hold me back. “He’ll only hurt you bad like the last time.”
“I’ve got it to do,” I said pulling away from Molly’s grasp. Sliding the barstool back, I rose to my feet and turned around. Barlow stood facing me.
“Get ‘em Craig!” one of Barlow’s buddies yelled.
“You don’t have the Kid here to protect you now, Tin Horn! Get your yellow ass out of here and stop bothering my gal!” Barlow stepped forward poking his finger into my chest.
“I’ll be your huckleberry,” I said bringing up my fist. Barlow threw a wild haymaker at my head. I blocked it with my left hand and hit him with a hard jab to his face. It snapped his head back. Barlow lunged forward trying to pin me against the bar. Taking a boxer’s stance, I hit him with a left and a right to his wind. Barlow let out a few startled grunts. His body rose up into the air when I hammered him with my fist. Next, I went to work on his kidneys and then hit him hard in the chest. My fist sank in with every blow. I followed up with a quick uppercut and polished off the three-punch combination ending with a left hook. Barlow hit the floor. Silence whispered through the saloon. Everyone stared in awe.
“Get up you mangy dog!” I yelled with my fist raised. Barlow stumbled to his feet. Hammering him with sledgehammer hard blows, I drove him across the saloon. Barlow threw a punch that grazed the side of my head and I hit him with a straight right that splattered his nose against his face. Blood hit the front of my shirt and Barlow flew through the air landing on a table, splintering it to match wood. The cowboys sitting at the table dived for cover. “Get up you coward!”
Barlow staggered to his feet. Oblivious to the saloon’s patrons watching the battle, I pressed the attack forward. My vision narrowed to a dark tunnel with Craig Barlow at the center. Barlow flew backward toward the batwing doors and I hammered him with punches all the way. At the doorway to the saloon, I hit him with a hard right hand fist. Barlow flew through the batwing doors and landed on his face in the street. He tried to rise to his knees, but I hammered him with blow after blow, beating him down in the dirt. Grabbing Barlow by the back of his shirt, I drug him to the horse trough. My breathing came out in wheezy huffs and puffs. I pushed his head under the water and held him there for a few seconds. When I let him up, Barlow sputtered, coughing up water and rose to a sitting position. Blood dripped from his nose.
“If you ever bother me, or call me a tin horn one more time, I’ll kill you!”
Barlow raised his hands into the air. “I won’t. Please don’t hit me no more, Mr. Merryweather.”
Turning on my heels, I stumbled across the boardwalk making my way through the crowd.

So when your child comes home from school and tells you about the playground bully, maybe it’s time for a Bully Beat Down. As always, I welcome everyone’s opinions and comments. If you’d like to read Tale Spinner click on the link below.

Until next time,
David Donaghe

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I published this blog on my blog spot page yesterday and I thought I would post it here as well

The young women in the short Skirt.
Nov 10th 2011
I just finished reading John Locke’s book, How I sold 1 Million eBooks in 5 Months! If you are serious about being an author and selling books, you need to read this book. I downloaded it on my kindle for only $2.99. Right away, I saw where I could improve my marketing for my two books, Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations, a collection of zombie, werewolf and vampire stories, and Tale Spinner, a science fiction novel. In John’s book he gave three examples of blog post that he made which helped him gain sales on Amazon.com. In the first one, he told a story about an incident in a grocery store parking lot where a run away shopping cart threatened to strike a young woman that was putting groceries in her trunk. He yelled for her to watch out and then went running after the cart, only to have the woman he tried to save chew him out and call him bad names. Sometimes even heroes have a bad day. This story reminded me of an incident that happened to me in a grocery store parking lot.

As I was walking across the parking lot toward my car, an extremely attractive young woman in a short, short skirt was walking toward me from the opposite direction. If her skirt had been any shorter, it would have been illegal. A man strolled along a few paces behind her, and I saw him bend over sideways trying to get a peek under the young woman’s skirt. I thought about telling her that some pervert was behind her trying to look up her skirt, but when I past her, I just smiled and said, “Hi.”
I’m throwing this question out to all the guys out there. What kind of guy are you? Would you have bent over sideways trying to get a peek at her panties, or would you have played it cool and admired the view from behind? Are you the kind of guy whose eyes linger too long on a woman’s chest, or legs? Mike Monroe is the main character in my book, Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations and he is what some might call a chauvinistic pig. He’s not ashamed of it, he embraces it. His partner, Roxanne Delaney, he calls her Roxy, is an ultra-hot blonde with big breasts. She wears her clothes tight, her shirts low cut, and she never wears a bra. Mike can’t keep his hands off her sexy legs and his eyes linger on her chest. When Roxy catches him staring she might say, “What are you looking at Pervert?” Mike just grins and says, “Only you, darling. Only you.”
To you women out there, what kind of woman are you? Do you wear your clothes tight and revealing? How does it make you feel when a guy’s eyes linger too long on your chest or you legs, or when he gives you the once over and you know he’s imaging what you might look like naked? Does it embarrass you and make you angry, or do you enjoy the attention? There are no wrong answers here. I would just like to hear some opinions. Please leave a comment and sign up for my email list.
I’m not quite as bold as Mike Monroe is. If I had been the guy strolling along behind this woman, I probably wouldn’t have bent over and tried to sneak a peek, but I might have said a silent prayer hoping for a strong gust of wind.
If you get a chance, download The Devil’s Punch Bowl, book 2 in the Cave Man action Adventure series. You can get it for you Kindle for only 99 cents. http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Punch-Action-Adventure-ebook/dp/B0065PGQCU/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1321073012

Until next time,
David Donaghe.

hey everyone! Check out my new short story Bring a Brother Home. You can read it now at Piker Press. It is the cover story. Check it out at http://www.pikerpress.com

Check out my article at Useless Knowledge titled, “You Can Do It!”

Innsmouth Free Press reviewed Night of the Wolf: A werewolf Anthology, published by The Living Dead Press.  This is what they had to say about my short story, Border war

Supernatural detective Mike Monroe and his sidekick, the ultra-hot Roxy, star in “Border War”. They quickly discover that even the U.S. Government doesn’t know what to do when a pack of werewolves crosses the border and begins to feast on the Americans in a small, southern Californian town.

To read Border War, along with the rest of my Roxy and Mike stories, order Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations at Amazon.com or on Barns and Noble’s webpage!

Below is an excerpt from Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations

www.amazon.com/s/ref=NB=sb_noss

I was fresh out of the service and looking for a job, so I decided to put some of the skills I learned in the Army to use.  I attended night school, obtained my private detective’s licence, and opened up my own agency.
My name is Mike Monroe, and I own Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations. Most of the stuff I did in the military was covert OPPS: weird stuff that you wouldn’t believe, and most of it I can’t talk about because it’s classified.  Most of the work I do is freelance work for the government, or private  clients who have a problem that the police or military can’t, or won’t handle.  If it’s too weird or strange for the military they call me-I specialize in weird.
Remember all those stories you heard when you were young about ghost, vampires, zombies and werewolves?  The one your mother said weren’t real?  Well, your mother lied.
It was about six months after I opened the agency, on a warm summer evening.  I was down at the office,  things were slow and I was getting board.  The Dodgers were loosing, so I switched off the radio and stepped out of the front door of my office.
I thought maybe I’d stroll down to the liquor store, buy a six-pack and then head home.  The warm summer heat hit my face, making me sweat.  Here it was 9pm and it was still hot.
At least I don’t live up on the high desert, somewhere like Barstow, I thought to myself as I strolled down the sidewalk to the liquor store on the corner.  The temperature up there on the high desert could be brutal in the summertime.
I heard the sound of shoe leather scraping the sidewalk behind me.  I started to turn, and that was when I felt a blunt object come crashing down on my head.  Pain shot through my skull, my vision went white for a fraction of a second, and I succumbed to darkness.