thanks Darwinist the holidays wouldn't feel complete without a Scrooge or two.

I just have to say I don't have much to add, just that I learned a great deal from reading this thread and I just happened upon it.  I think endings are always tricky, but I think each time I sit down my gut tells me what kind of piece I want to put together.  For instance, I know in advance if I want the ending to be positive, negative, or absurdly "out there", but I'll admit that the journey through the "Great Swamy Middle" sometimes has a hand in changing my mind.  The point is that if you're going to have a positive ending then you somewhat know how your characters are going to end up at least emotionally.

Let it be noted that I have no training in writing so i understand that my ideas may not be groundbreaking.  Mainly wanted to thank everyone for the great advice, and for posting the question in the first place.

LOL you don't need to apologize...of course you should concentrate on work...I meant the other 80 or so viewers..

Alrighty Butcher fans and authors I'm posting a short short story (just under 1500 words) I finished recently and would like to get some feedback.  good or bad hit me with it, but I do hope everyone enjoys it.


“Drink your tea while it is still hot.”  The man across from me said softly.
“But I always burn my tongue if I don’t wait for it to cool.”  I instantly responded.
Then I froze and silently berated myself for forgetting where I was and whom I was with.  It had been months since the last time I’d forgotten to think slowly, and I was surprised at how easily it was to forget.  To think slowly meant that you took at least one mental breath to think about something before you react.  Seems like a simple idea doesn’t it?  Well it is, but you try to take a mental breath before reacting to someone insulting your wife, or calling one of your kids stupid.   Less than ten years ago I thought that the faster you were to react to something made you somehow more evolved.   I still remember the day I learned how wrong that kind of thinking was for me.
March 17th, 2000 I was sitting in a booth in a small pub with my wife of one year and my two year old son enjoying St. Patrick’s Day by partaking in plates of fresh corned beef & cabbage.  As I watched the Guinness cascade down the inside of my pint glass I heard a voice say.  “Is that Keiko Kawaguchi I see?”  I glanced at my wife to gage her reaction and was surprised to see worry in her eyes.  The man crossing the small eatery heading for our booth was huge.  I guessed he was easily over three hundred pounds, native Hawaiian, and obviously drunk.  Keiko smiled nervously and stood to greet him as all locals do with a hug and a little kiss on the cheek. “Hello Aikahi, happy St. Patty’s Day.  This is my husband Doug and my son Ben.” 
Trying to follow her lead I stood and reached out to shake the giant man’s hand.  He looked me up and down and without extending his own hand said “Howz’it haole.”  I wasn’t sure, had he just insulted me or was he joking with me?  Uncertain what to do, I dropped my hand giving up on the shake and smiled at him instead.  “What you smiling at haole?” he shouted at me and took a step closer.  The whole pub fell instantly quiet.  Completely unconcerned with how his disruption was interrupting the celebration he turned to Keiko.  “Dis is what you choose to start a family wit?  Not me, but a stupid Irish haole?”  At that moment I felt the heat rush to my face, and without thinking I punched him in the face.  Less than a minute later the bar staff had ejected us from the restaurant, and two minutes after that I was on the ground being beaten unconscious by Aikahi and a couple of his buddies.  It was the first fight I’d ever been in, and I lost big time.
When I next opened my eyes I was in a hospital recovery room at Queen’s Medical Center and standing at the foot of my bed was a tiny Japanese man I’d never met before.  His face was blank, as if he wasn’t happy, sad, or even bored.   I broke the silence.  “Hello sir.  Are you the doctor?”  I winced at how much it hurt to talk.  Just then Keiko came in with little Ben on her heels.  “Daddy’s awake Mommy, Hi Daddy.  You got beat up bad.”  I always loved when he spoke so plainly.  Keiko kissed me gently and then with tears in her eyes, went into a rant about how much of an idiot I was for doing what I did.  “I’m sorry babe.  That was really dumb of me I know.”  I said slowly. 
I nodded my head to the old man questioningly.  “Oh I’m so sorry, please forgive me Sir.  Doug, this man says he’s here to help you.”  She said in answer.
“Here to help me with what?”  I said softly.
“With what you need help with.”  The man replied. 
 “I’m sorry I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”  I said impatiently.  He handed a card to Keiko and said, “Call me when he’s feeling strong again.”  Then he left.
Keiko read the card then handed it to me.  The card simply read
Alvin Hayate 
Sensei
It also had his number.  Keiko smiled and said, “When the student is ready…?”
For the first time I had been more angry than scared and I’d stood up to a bully.  It had been a breakthrough of sorts.  The only problem was Kung-Fu movies weren’t as educational as I had led myself to believe.
Ten years later with Sensei Hayate’s teachings I was a black belt in Aikido and Kendo.  I smiled to myself and did as I was told.  It had been the fifth night in a row that the old man had ended our evening by serving me insanely hot tea, and just like the other nights, I burnt my tongue.  I suspected there was a deep lesson the Sensei was trying to teach me, but I just couldn’t seem to figure out what that was. 
“Oyasumi nasai Sensei” I said as I stood and bowed to my teacher.
“Goodnight Douglas” he replied and bowed as well.
“See you bright and early tomorrow.” He added warmly
“Yes Sensei.” And with that I headed home to lick my wounds, or maybe just some ice.
The next morning at 5:15am, I kissed my wife and son goodbye and left to pick up Sensei Hayate.  An hour and a half later we were flying over the Pacific heading to Japan.  He’d chosen me from his senior students to accompany him on his annual trip to Tokyo.  When he’d asked me two weeks ago I’d agreed to go, knowing what a great honor it was to be asked.  Every year he returned to meet with his instructor to report on how things were going in Hawaii. 
As I understood it, I would essentially be his assistant.  I was to carry his bags, check us into the hotel, and keep us on schedule.  Not that Sensei needed to be reminded to be on time.  He didn’t own a watch or an alarm clock, but he’d never been late that I could remember.  Thankfully Keiko had taught me just enough of the language that I could survive the trip without embarrassing myself or, more importantly, my Sensei.
We arrived in Tokyo's Narita Airport a little over eight hours later and headed right to our hotel to check in.  Soon after we went to meet Sensei Maruyama and to enjoy what was rumored to be the best sushi in Japan.  I was in awe of the city and all of its lights and sounds.  It had a much faster heartbeat that any other city I’d been to.  I bowed deeply when we met Sensei Maruyama and, in Japanese, expressed how honored I was to meet him.  He looked at me skeptically and then at Sensei Hayate.  My teacher just nodded his head as if to say “Yes, he’s with me.”  With that, the older Sensei led us to the bar. 
At a traditional sushi bar the person serving you chooses what kind of sushi you will eat.  Knowing this, I made sure that I chewed each serving slowly and expressed my enjoyment to the chef.  The truth, however, was that I couldn’t taste anything due to my burnt tongue.  As the meal progressed Sensei Maruyama seemed to be watching me, and as I ate certain pieces he nodded in approval.  This seemed strange to me but I was too nervous to think too deeply about it.  Afterwards the older man surprised me when he smiled at me and said, “I approve of this young man as your successor.  Anyone who can eat Natto while smiling is okay by me.”  Then he turned to my Sensei and said, “I will miss teaching you.” He quickly said his goodbyes and headed for the door.  I stood there at a total loss for words.
“Successor?”  I whispered
“Yes Doug.  It’s time for me to spend my last years traveling with my wife.  I hope you accept my offer, but I had to get Sensei Maruyama’s approval first.”
We sat again and he ordered some tea.  “Isn’t Natto that horrible fermented soy bean stuff?  You know I couldn’t taste any of it.” I confessed.  He looked shocked for all of five seconds and then he smiled.  The tea arrived and without waiting to be told this time I went to take a sip.  Still smiling, is hand shot out to cover the cup, “let it cool down first.”  That’s when I understood why he’d been serving me scalding tea the last few days.  “You don’t like Natto either do you Sensei?”  He kept smiling but didn’t answer.  After a time he picked up his cup and said, “Drink your tea.”

Alright you sick-o's here's the Halloween Eve's writing prompt from me to you....

He cackled loudly as he jammed to techno and cut the heads off the zombie cats with his weed whacker.  "Damn I love this holiday!"  He shouted.

Connor woke to the sound of his house phone ringing and on istinct flew out of bed to get to it before the machine picked up.  He ran down the hall past his older sister who never seemed to answer any phone but her own cell.  On the seventh ring he heard the machine pick up and before he could snatch it from the charging port whoever was calling hung up.  "Crap, Urg.!"  He glanced at the microwave to check the time and his anger doubled.  It was 6:30 am on a Saturday.  His eyes had closed only 3 hours before after a long night of working on his school science project.  He briefly wondered why his sister was up, but quickly realized he didn't care.  His science project was a huge model of an atom made from Floam.  As he headed back to his room and to his bed he smiled.  At least I finished it, he thought.  When he reached his bedroom door he he froze.  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"  He screamed as he surveyed the destruction of his room.  Pieces of his project were everywhere and on everything.  His sister came running down the hall, and when she saw why he'd freaked out, she laughed.  Through her laughter she said, "Oh so that's why Jo's poop had those colors in it!"

 

Thanks Kris_W for the wisdom, and thanks Kali for the follow up.

I've been trying to decide how to go about finding a safe group of beta readers.  Being in Hawaii, a writing group isn't really possible for me, and most of my family and friends aren't really sci-fi/fantasy fans.  I asked Shannon Butcher on Twitter and she said to check out my Romance Novelists local chapter but again after looking over the group that makes up the Hawaii chapter they don't feel right.  Anyone have other suggestions on how to put a trustworthy group of beta readers together?  I'm thinking I want to find about 5 people.