I scared the living shit out of a group of about 5 teeenage boys as they were coming up over a steep (60° incline) hill and I was running atop the summit of that same hill in Dreamland (Lake View  Cemetery) 'after hours' last evening.  'After hours' implies that the cemetery was closed and, consequently, the band of boys expected to encounter no one except, perhaps in their unconsciences, their worst fanstasy nightmare.  So, the scout of the pack came up over the hill, saw me running somewhat toward/by him against a backdrop of tombstones, screamed and ran down the hill he had just scaled up and took the rest of his band down with him.  Boo.

The nfp-subconscience speaks:

I have a tremendous use for women. I simply don't have enough use of  women.

She had finally mastered the art of seduction.  She spent half of her day dressing.  And the rest of her day slowly undressing.

Happiness is never having to define what happiness is.

I am not always able to watch my own back.  But I am capable, at the most uncanny of times, of turning swiftly around and seeing surpise in the eyes of those nefariously gathered there.