Wow!!! It has been a long time since I have posted anything and my last post was extremely weak.
The truth of the situation is that life just gets busy. I believe that you understand. There is work, family, illnesses (My wife and daughter had the flu, but I didn't catch it), church, emergencies and just life in general that eat up my time.
I work from the moment I wake up until the moment that I go to bed. The good thing is that I drive a great deal and I get to listen to audio books which is relaxing to me. So, it is not all work.
I have made a lot of money in the last 30 days, which, of course, is good. I have been thinking about hiring someone to just drive me around for $10 an hour, so I can do my administrative work while being chauffeured. It would give me more family time in the evenings. My daughter really needs more of my attention and she is growing up very quickly.
Every day, I think about writing and finishing my stories and I often feel frustrated, because I don't have time do what I enjoy the most, which is writing. Well, life goes on and it is not the end of the world and I tell myself that my iBuyFiction.com business is a lifelong business. It is what I will do when I retire.
We have the rights to a couple of houses that we will own free and clear on July 15th, if the delinquent tax payers don't pay their taxes. I haven't decided what to do with these houses yet. The best thing is to rent them out, but I sure like the cash when I flip them. Flipping them is good because I don't have to make any repairs, but the tax man beats me up when I do that.
Just writing about these properties is real therapy. It has made me realize that renting them out is what I MUST do. If I can get 20 rentals, we should be set and I could focus totally on iBuyFiction.com. So, that is what I am going to do.
I am going to buy a minimum of two cash flowing rental properties every year, so that I can finish writing my true story about ghosts and spirits contacting me. I think people should know the truth about what happens when you die, but don't know if they are capable of handling it.
Writing simply makes me feel better. It is therapy. I wish that people would start taking me up on accepting my free writing platform. I believe it would be therapy for others also.
Time to hit the road again and make some buck-a-roos.
Until next time.
I would like to meet the owner of this nice home. Well....maybe.
Today was another day of working from the minute I woke up until the time I will go to bed.
I am getting very far behind on my writing.
It is not the end of the world. Yet.
Writing first thing in the morning is my preference. The last few days, I have had to drive a long distance before even starting my day, so I haven't been able to do what I prefer. I have been just putting something down late at night, just to do it.
It's more than most do.
I saw a guy today who just looked stupid to me. He was in line in front of me and he bought a pack of cigarettes, so I knew then he was stupid. Then, he bought a lottery ticket and that sealed the deal.
The lottery is what I call the "stupid man's tax." It is the only tax that you choose to pay, just to pay it.
Next, someone is going to start selling lottery insurance. That will be a gag.
Tobacco has its own poem:
Tobacco, tobacco, the horrible weed,
Straight from Hell came the seed.
Stains the teeth and fouls the breath,
Smoke it, smoke it, smoke it till death.
I have yet to discover one positive thing about smoking cigarettes. It just doesn't make sense to me.
It makes more sense to carry around a tank of oxygen and breath it. General Patton believed that oxygen makes one smarter.
I should breath deeper.
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." -- Jack Torrance in The Shining
"I really need a day off." -- james@iBuyFiction.com
It's all good!!! I am just exhausted from work.
I wonder if Steven King and Jack Nicholson threw a "Shining" party. I for one would have not RSVP'd that one.
It's late and this is all I have the energy to do. Tomorrow awaits my awaking. Write On!
The graffito on the ground under the sign is much better, but I was not crazy enough to get out of the car and start snapping photos there.
I remember when I used to hate my job. Depression would start on Sunday night and Monday morning would bring on my blues. I had to get up. I had to go to work, because I had debts to pay.
This morning rain steadily sang down on the metal awning outside my bedroom window. The cooing lullaby rocked me, held me tightly and kept me snug under my covers. I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted just 5 more minutes.
I got out of bed anyway and thanked God that I was able to do so.
I mentioned to my wife that, "I bet a bunch of people who hate their jobs don't want to get out of bed this morning...and the same for the people who love their jobs."
Rain makes people want to sleep in and "Rain makes corn and corn makes whiskey." is how the country song goes. (I don't touch the stuff after it killed me in 1985.) Rejoice when it rains, because if it didn't, we wouldn't have food. Plus, it's going to wash all that salt off the roads.
I love waking up!!! Morning is my favorite time of the day. Sleeping in too late causes me regret. Life is too fun to sleep it away. When I leave my physical body for the last time (physical death), I have decided to come back and do it all over again.
This is how is how I view sleep: If I wake up one hour earlier than everyone else, I live longer. My life is absolutely wonderful, now that I have figured out how to chase away the bad spirits who come to me and accept the good ones.
So for all of you who have the Monday blues, because you hate your job: Quit. It is the easiest thing to do. That's why everybody does it.
Humans are the only animals who have jobs. We have enslaved ourselves to an imaginary concept known as money.
This is the day that God made and I will rejoice in it.
Sandy must be under a large amount of stress. When you meet her for the first time, you will say to yourself, “This lady is not very friendly.”
We all have met people like Sandy.
We all have been Sandy.
My first reaction is to Sandy-like people, you old grouch, is to be kind, soft-spoken, friendly and smile. Sometimes this works, because it is genuine on my part to treat others as I want to be treated.
It never works with Sandy. So, after many attempt, I just avoid her.
Old Grouches will warm up, relax a little and change their attitudes more toward a more friendly nature when we show kindness and respect. Most likely they are under some sort of stress and we just happen to be the people they encountered while experiencing this stress.
Always remember that we really don’t know what is happening in others’ lives and they are just reacting to it.
Now, back to Sandy. She is automatically irritable, crabby, selfish and haughty. She is one of those people who never really warm up to anybody. I think she would give Jesus Christ and attitude!
Well, Sandy has really no true friends, because her inner spirit impairs and destroys her relationships. The quality of her (and everybody’s) life depends on her (our) inner spirit.
The One who created you, Almighty God, can recreate and renew in you a fine balance and a controlled spirit. He can restore your good disposition, and inner quiet control.
Every day we should pray Psalms 51:10.
It will bring us friends, health, happiness and success.
Renew a right spirit within me. Psalms 51:10.
Is my job dangerous?
Yes. Indeed. Maybe I am paranoid? Maybe it’s nothing?
Maybe I should start taking my meds again? My psychiatrist tells me that I’m not crazy, but everyone else tells me that I “am not right.” Which is true?
Today, I will make over $500 and that is one reason I do it. I mostly do what I do, because it gives me an adrenaline rush. I feel as if I am being sneaky. I feel as if I am some sort of covert operative taking photos of things that should not be photographed. Well, maybe not so much that these things shouldn’t be photographed, as it is that somebody most likely doesn’t want me photographing this particular location.
The crazy part of it all is the fact that I really don’t know who I am taking these photographs for. (I need assistance writing, because sentences are not supposed to end with prepositions and I am not using enough action verbs.)
I take photos of occupied houses. I take them quickly, covertly and retreat. My photos include the neighborhood and people that may be standing about. My digital camera captures license plates and what I consider suspicious activities. Ninety percent of the time, these homes are in “the hood”, on dead-end streets or down long gravel roads. I hate the ones next to cemeteries.
My instructions do not say to be covert, but when I have encountered humans, it often results in, “Hey, you! Why are you taking pictures?” in an extremely confrontational manner. Therefore, I attempt to be covert.
I am quick, I am fast and I start early to be less likely noticed. My instructions say that I can’t talk to anyone at the home nor can I place foot on the properties.
I would be confrontational if someone was taking photos of my home and when I asked them about it, they wouldn’t reply. How about you?
I scope the areas out as I approach. I sometimes pass by the houses and come back. Sometimes, I pass and keep going and decide to come back on another day at a different time. I park strategically and leave my car running. I always shut my door quietly. I stand sideways to the houses, because I know a bullet is less likely to find a smaller target.
I sweat. I breathe fast and deep. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. My blood pressure is elevated. It is often scary. Occasionally, a spirit will reach out to me asking for help in desperation. The spirits always need help. They are being held captive and abused.
I can’t answer them and I can’t notify the cops, because society doesn’t accept people that hear invisible spirits. If I acted on the spirits’ calls for help, I would be deemed a loon. They would lock me up!
Why is this house on a dead-end street? Why was that house protected by well trained dogs? Why is this house surrounded by a 10 foot high razor wire fence? Why is this house hidden in the trees down a twisting gravel driveway? Why is there a law enforcement vehicle parked in the drive of this house? Why are there cameras along the perimeter? Was that guy on the corner at the entry to this “one-way-in and one-way-out neighborhood” a scout?
There is no law against a taking photos from the public right of way.
What about the other assignments? Cell phone towers? Water towers? Across the street from prisons? Natural gas pipeline stations? Convenience stores (the worst kind and in the wrong neighborhood)? When they start asking for bridges and dams, I am going to refuse.
Are these photos for law enforcement, the government or investors? Who wants these particular photos? Who is on the other end of the internet?
Why does my Google Maps timeline show that I have been in Las Vegas and at an elementary school in Louisiana when I have never been there? Didn’t I see that Kia Rio two days ago in Brownsville?
Now, let’s talk about breaking into houses...
Time to be realistic. If authors don't have the ability to totally post, edit and control their page, iBuyFiction.com is not going to work. If this feature is not implemented, iBuyFiction.com can not be scaled.
So, I am going to stop trying to find a solution of my own, when I already know a solution with Weebly.com exist.
This transition is going to take awhile, because I do have a real job. It is going to take time away from my writing, but I know that it must be done.
Stay patient with me.
Now, would definitely be the time for someone to step up and partner with me on this adventure.
I will not fail!!!
I feel as if I am Sponge Bob in this photo. There are too many days that I work from the moment that I get up until the moment I go to bed.
Do you have these days, too?
It frustrates me, because I get so exhausted that I do not have time to do what I enjoy most. I really feel as if I am cheating myself from joy.
I will cry a river, build a bridge and get over it.
Still struggling with on how to get an author's log-in page where an author can post directly to his page without going though me.
If your life is not going the way you want it to go, adopt a permanent attitude of gratitude and thankfulness.
There is always someone who has it worse than you do.
Keeping it short, because my head hurts.
I am so thankful that I have a head, even if it hurts.
The snow was so deep in the Mississippi River Delta around Hornbeak, TN that I literally plowed through the snow. It had to be 12 inches deep and more in places. My little Kia Rio rode as if it were a 4-wheel drive Jeep.
I took this photo in Dyersburg. It is snow on top of ice.
I have had enough snow and ice for this winter.
For those of you have ignored Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth, we all should already be prepared to become nomads. Global Warming will not just be hot temperatures. Extreme fluctuations in temperatures will become common and it will continue to get worse each year. Temperature swings of 100 degrees and more in one day will become common, as well as tornados and severe weather.
We need to be able to move and move fast! We all should invest in strongholds in the East, West, North and South. Have camping equipment and survival gear ready. Be Prepared! This is a warning!!!
I think that my family can become NOMADIC with my business. My biggest concern is the collapse of the imaginary dollar and the ability to protect a sustainable food source.
Those that are prepared will need to be ghosts in the world, because those that do not prepare will attack when it comes down to who has food to eat and who doesn't. I know that we will have to do the unthinkable to survive.
General Patton has taught me to attack on my terms and never defend. My family will move so fast that you can't catch us. We are prepared, but I know we are not prepared well enough.
The apocalypse is closer than you think. If you are not seeing the signs in the weather, you are going to be the one attacking my family for our food.
We will not only defeat you, we will make certain that you know you lost.
Failing to plan is planning to fail.
Back to my incredible story...
This Sunset property is where my unbelievable story begins.
Day 1 – The discovery
On the rear of the property, a gutter had fallen off and an exposed damaged fascia board was exposed. The fascia board had rotted away and there was an exposed entry into the home from this open fascia board. A squirrel or bird had been making its way inside.
Oh, Hell. The shed.
There is a small wooded shed in the back yard. Its dimensions are 10’x10’. The shed contains a bunch of junk basically.
While in the shed, I looked up at the damaged fascia board and thought to myself, “I am going to need an extension ladder to reach up that high.” I thought nothing of it and went about my business.
A day passed and I returned to Sunset.
There was still some straightening up and other things that I needed to do to in and around the property. I opened up the shed and began to move things around and noticed that there was a 16 foot extension ladder buried underneath the crumpled up blue tarp. I must have overlooked that yesterday.
Was that extension ladder already in the shed or did my wish just come true?
While rummaging around in the shed, I thought to myself, “Oh, cool. Now all I need is a board just the size of the damaged fascia board and I can repair that exposed hole.”
I went about my business and went inside the home. Oh, God!!! What a disaster. The place was totally and stank of a human body odor, just plain nasty human smell. No sh** or anything like that had set up residence. It was just plain human stank. As a friend once said to me about the inside of my big rig truck, “This place smells like feet, ass and underarms.”
I mean the place was so filled with junk and trash that I did not know where to begin to clean. There were probably around 30 gallon jugs of distilled and drinking water and another 30 or so empty jugs. One room was filled with porno magazines and not Playboy. It was filled with the really nasty kind of magazines. Fat girls, old ladies and other sick and perverted pics were strewn all around the house.
What really stood out was the small tin pie pan with the burnt spoon and residue. I thought it was heroin, so I took a photo and took it to the police department, so that they would know that this sh** was not mine.
The policeman took me to a separate room and looked at the photo. He asked me what the address was. I told him XXXX Sunset Street and he left the room and came back in with a fairly thick folder with the Sunset address written on the tab.
He opened the folder and pulled out a small zip-lock bag with small brown crystalline rocks inside. He told me this is meth and said that the item in the photo was not heroin and that it was meth. Then, he started (in a very excited and enthusiastic manner, I might add) to explain what the meth user does to inject this sh** into his veins. I stopped him before he finished, because I truly don’t give a crap what these meth-heads do with their smack, but he really seemed intent on sharing his meth-knowledge.
All that I could think about was that there was probably chemicals to make meth in the home and it was going to cost me a ton of money to get them disposed of properly and legally. I could see in my mind’s eye, the meth task force’s van parked in the driveway of my new property and a local news reporter asking me for a statement.
The policeman and I talked a while about how meth-heads think and what might have become of the previous owner. He ran a check and we found out that the previous owner was not incarcerated anywhere in Tennessee. We talked about securing the house and protecting my interests in the house and then I left.
(The funny thing is that the police put a tail on me for the next couple of weeks.) I just secured the house very well and stayed away from it to let them know that I was not on meth.
Enough about meth. Let's talk about that ladder...
"All failures are the result of giving up too early." - james@iBuyFiction.com
The things which are impossible with men are possible with God. Luke 18:27
This scripture explains how to do impossible things.
We must look at our problems and determine exactly what exactly makes them “impossible”.
Then we should pray to God about our problems, one at a time. When we pray, we should tell God what we want and ask if it is in His will let it be done.
God doesn’t owe us anything, but it is in our human nature to ask. It is okay to ask as long as you believe the result will be for the greatest good.
We must do all we can do about our impossible thing to make it less likely to be impossible. This is very important. We may not finish or complete our impossible task, but at least, we can try to the best of our abilities.
When we believe something is totally impossible, it will be. When we believe something looks impossible and have faith that it is possible with God, it becomes possible.
We should not get all worried and panicky about our situation. We need to stay relaxed and take an intellectual and spiritual approach toward it.
Declare out loud in your spoken voice, “This can be done, because God is doing it through me.” Affirm that God is working on it.
The final outcome may not be exactly what you want it to be. It may not even be close to what you want it to be. But, one thing is for certain, it is what it is and that is all it will ever be.
You did your part to make it happen. You asked for God’s direct assistance and let Him know you understood that if it was not His will that it was okay with you.
You tried, you believed, you asked for help and you declared it. What else can be done?
I know that if I keep telling people about my ability to speak with ghosts and sharing the alternative realities that they show me, I will eventually be locked up. I will be forced into a mental institution. People will call me insane.
Where I live, it is actually illegal to be a “spiritualist.” They have outlawed ghosts and the ability to communicate with spirits!
Christians, which I declare to be one, confess the existence of God and the Holy Spirit. So, in my hometown, it is actually illegal to be a Christian, because Christians are spiritualists. They have the ability to hear and communicate with the Holy Spirit.
What would the government do if I honestly and in good faith declared that I can talk to spirits other than the Holy One? Would they fine me? Would they run me out of town? Would I be labeled as the town wacko? Would they lock me up? Would they burn me at the stake?
(If anyone needs to be put away or run out of town, it is the ignorant and closed-minded people who wrote our city charter and those who have not changed it.)
It is human to fear the unknown. Many fear ghosts and those who communicate with them. I agree that there are evil spirits and we all need to fear them, but fearing those who can communicate with spirits is insanity.
So, I ask you, “I am crazy or do I simply write fiction?” I tell you that neither of these are true.
When I was 17, I died after drinking a 1/5th of Jim Beam in 90 minutes.
This is where my stories begins...
“God, help me articulate my gifts and help others understand my stories, because I know that I can't explain it clearly to them on my own. People think that I am crazy. Convince them I am sane. They are afraid of me. Please let them know I bring peace. May your Will be done."--james@iBuyFiction.com
Today, I decided to go to work and then realized that I definitely had my priorities mixed up.
I have turned around and today is going to be a lifetime memory of playing in the snow with the ones that I love the most.
Money is only imaginary and created out of promises to pay with the imaginary. So, why do people lie, cheat, steal and murder for it?
I choose to make lasting memories. At least, I can take them with me when I go.
Today is for snow, fun, hot chocolate and love.
An Insane Story of Truth and Tragedy
In June of 2017, I attended a tax lien auction at the court house. The owners of several properties had not paid their County taxes since 2010. I purchased 4 properties within the city limits:
1. XXX North 19th Avenue for $XXX,
2. XXX North 19th Avenue for $XXX,
3. XXX Hawks Loop for $XXX, and
4. XXXX Sunset Street for $XXX.
Here is a quick break down of the legal aspects concerning properties purchased at tax lien auctions in Tennessee. I am not an attorney and this is iBuyFiction.com.
After the tax sale is registered with the court system, the purchaser gains all rights to the property. However, the people who were behind on their taxes have one year from the date the sale was registered with the County to redeem the property by paying all delinquent taxes (both County and City), late fees and penalties and interest owed. If and when the property is redeemed, the purchaser is paid his/her money back along with interest and no longer has any rights.
If someone is living in the home, the purchaser would have to sue for the right of possession which would cost a minimum of $350 for attorney’s fees. You can't just move in, even if the house is vacant. From experience, I know that the best thing to do is nothing and to wait patiently for a year and hope the previous owner does not redeem within this one year redemption period.
It is now January 11, 2018 and here is what has happened:
1. XXX North 19th Avenue which was occupied at the time of the auction has been redeemed and I made a $26 profit from the interest payment.
2. XXXX North 19th Avenue which was vacant at the time of the auction has not been redeemed and I have secured the property by replacing the locks and securing the windows.
3. XXXX Hawks Loop which was occupied at the time of the auction started showing signs of neglect, so I put a notice on the door for the occupants to vacate. I gave them 45 days to pay or vacate. The METH-HEADS totally destroyed the house before vacating. They broke all the windows, removed all the doors and tore out large sections of the interior walls. I have secured the property, boarded up the broken out windows and placed a “No Trespassing” sign on the front door. I wish that I had not purchased this home, but it is too late.
A neighbor said that she would buy the home for me in August of 2018 for $5,000. If that happens, I will be satisfied. It will end up costing me around $2,000 after all taxes and penalties are paid. Breaking even would satisfy me with this home and making $3.000 would be great for me.
4. XXXX Sunset which appeared occupied at the time of the auction is now vacant and I have secured the doors and windows and changed the front lock.
This property is where my unbelievable story begins.
Keeping it short and simple today, because I am humping it with Inspections Express and my wife has started working with me today. It is a challenge for both of us. I know that I am difficult to work with and set in some of my ways.
Friends and Enemies: I would rather have strong enemies than weak friends. At least, I would know what my enemy has planned in store for me. A weak friend would always be a challenge.
I pray that I am never a weak friend.
I've been called a sinner, an asshole, street scum, f***-head, a piece of sh*t, your royal majesty and even sugar. You name it and I have been called it.
Some of it's true; some of it's somewhat true and none of it's a lie. But, aren't all men a little of these at one time or another?
I'm a rock'r, a product of the grunge generation. My parents, God rest their souls (hopefully), are most likely dead. I really don't know or f***ing care. I grew up in smoky bars, in seedy motels, Seattle's back allies, musty basements, cold concrete garage floors, perverts' dungeons and too often, on the street.
All that made me the bad-ass, street-smart, punk-assed, knife-fighting, rock-n-rolling, f***ing machine that I am. My teenage years were a drug induced Quentin Tarantino movie, a f***ing run-away nuclear freight train and constant barrage of hetero and homosexual abuse.
And all of that bullsh*t, still can't keep me down.
Don't let my appearance fool you. I'm smart, very fu***ng smart, so f***ing smart that this is only one of my appearances. I could be your clean-cut barista or the geek standing next to you at Comic Con or that drag queen sleeping in doorway.
When the sh*t hits the fan (and it always does), I'm only one thing: an undercover cop. Yeah, you heard me right. I am a real undercover cop with decade of Special Forces training. So, if you are going to call me anything, call me "Sir."
My Three Pledges:
"On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the constitution, my community and the agency I serve."
"I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to the regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, UNDER GOD, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
Watch your step, mother f***er, because I'm after you.
"I try very hard to do everything that I say that I am going to do. However, today is one day that I am going to let you down. I have not been able to get to the Author Log-In page for set up. I need to push the date out until Monday. I have real work to do."-- james@iBuyFiction.com
"When I was a child, I spoke as a child and thought as a child.
To stay sane, I still do that". -- james@iBuyFiction.com
I meet many parents who are just plain boring. Sometimes, I wonder how their children even like them as human beings.
If you are a parent and can't dress up at Halloween, just dance a silly little dance in public or laugh when you want to scream, do you have one ounce of sanity left in your whole body?
Let's live as if we are still children. Before we mold them, their first instinct to almost any situation is to see it in a humorous way. If I could mimic that behavior, you'd call me crazy. If I couldn't mimic that behavior, you'd shoot me.
For the love of God and your own sanity: Do NOT compose your post using this blogging software. Write in Word, Scribner or another word processing software program and copy and paste.
Author Reminder: Covert Insurgent Control writing assignments are due:
01/09/2018 at 06:00 AM, Central Standard Time/Chicago.
Late assignments will NOT be paid.
On The Other Side Of Physical
"I really do hear dead people."---james@iBuyFiction.com
"When I was 17, I drank a 1/5th of Jim Beam Whiskey in 90 minutes and died. Life has never been the same for me since that day. I have hidden the truth as long as I can. My secret for the past 32 years becomes alive today. Here is my story of 'the afterlife', 'the now life' and 'the life that we all eventually reach'."
Told in the now life, because that is where we are.
The night began...
The Beginning and Not the End
During my senior year in high school, my American History teacher, Mr. Gray, told everyone just how history was going to play out in our lifetime. So far, everything he said has been correct.
He didn't know about global warming and climate change, but everything else, he' been right on the money.
Grey said if we entered the military after high school that we would be deployed and die in the sands of the Middle East. Good call, Mr. G; anybody who had a television set could have seen that coming.
He said that "North Korea is going to be the trigger for World War 3." He said that the world had unfinished business there. He said "North Korea is Russia's, China's and America's wild card...a inaccessible geographic region "where demons were left to their own accord.""
I thought Mr. G had flipped when he started screaming at the top of his lungs, "Demons, real f**king demons, running the country, I tell you. They're running the country!" Years later, I saw Sam Kinison do something very similar in his role as the History Teacher in the movie Back to School with Rodney Dangerfield.
Everyone kind of freaked out a little after Mr. Gray dropped the "F" bomb in class. Nobody said a word. No one. Nobody told Coach "Po", our principal. Nobody told their parents. Nobody ever mentioned it again, until now.
Somehow, I think everybody believed old Mr. Grey. Crazy as hell. I believed that he believed there were demons in North Korea.
The two nuclear explosions inside that country moments ago has the whole world frightened and worried. Not me, I'm good. I'm cool. I am going to do what is right and good. I will protect and defend what is mine. I will stand tall and proud for God and America.
My story begins, not here, not today, but on a cool Friday night during high school.
"What's it going to do to me?" I asked. "How will I know when I have a buzz?"
Bill and Barry just laughed, "Oh, you'll know. Yeah, you'll know."
"How will I know? I don't understand."
They laughed, "You'll know. You'll know. We won't have to tell you."