P. O. B. 384
Wilmington, DE 19801
The Sovereign
P. O. B. 418
New York, NY 10116
Dear Editor:
This letter is in response to issue #18 Op/Ed Steven Murphy’s column “Green Support of the Police State”.
Obviously, there are a lot of things wrong with the liberal democracy holding Amerika hostage for the NOW or dissident factions like our United Fascist Union- whose agenda is to destroy the Washington-based Marxist machine and replace it with a fascist government- wouldn’t exist.
But, encouraging school children to experience a vegetarian diet isn’t one of them.
Like Mr. Murphy, we wish schools across the country would have more than one meatless day a week or ideally, never serve meat to children ever. While there’s nothing wrong with a vegetarian diet, eating flesh foods has disastrous effects on the human body. One of the dire consequences of eating a carnivorous diet regularly is that you will get worms. You will get gross little white worms that will fall out of your ass when you shit and everyone who eats animal flesh has them unless you take herbal helpers like wormwood and horehound to rid yourself of them.
Heather Goldsmith
Minister of Propaganda &
Enlightenment of the
“Why Can’t We Buy Rum Balls Anymore?”
by Mr. J. Grimes
This story begins in the 1980’s, although it actually started decades prior to that. But, I digress, and for our purposes this story starts around 1985, or thereabouts, when I was dating a woman named Marta Jenkins. I had described rum balls to her and her children, David and Jenny, that could be had at a place called Katsamps Family Restaurant and, being children they pestered us mercilessly until we agreed to take them to the aforementioned restaurant, for the never-before tasted candy delight, rum balls. So, reluctantly, after hours of hearing “Can we go? Can we go?” from the children, Marta and I reluctantly hopped in the car and set off for downtown Zanesville, where the said eatery was located.
Jenny burst through the doors of the establishment ahead of either of us needless to say, and before we had barely got through the doors of the establishment of said candy shop/restaurant, two young faces were pressed against the candy counter examining the precious contents thereof. But, something was wrong, the taste sensation I remembered from my childhood, some 30 years hence, was missing from the candy counter now. But why? Before we could quiz the owner the children blurted out in confused tones, “Where are the rum balls; you said they’d be here?” I signaled the old Greek chap, Pete Katsamp (I know from my parents taking me there when I was no older than they) to be the proprietor. I asked him, “Where are the rum balls?” He replied, “Sorry the laws in Ohio have changed since you were a kid, Mr. Grimes. I can’t sell alcoholic candies anymore.
Even though we stayed for dinner at the restaurant, there were some sad faces around the table for four that night, especially the younger members of our party. I don’t know what it is about kids in a candy shop buy, no matter what other delectable taste sensations are under glass displayed on the candy counter, if the promised goody isn’t available at the time, the kids aren’t happy, no matter what else the adults offer them in place of the missed treat. Now, you’re probably imagining that my girlfriend’s little kids were spoiled brats. But, I was exactly like that as myself as a child, so I think it’s a kid thing. The worst part was trying to explain to two small children how the liquor laws in the state of Ohio had changed between the 1950’s and 1980’s. This was particularly hard for a certifiable conspiracy geek like me, as David and Jenny didn’t seem to know what “draconian” and “despotic” were and I got the distinct impression they had never read Machiavelli or Orwell in kindergarten or second grade, either. Marta wasn’t exactly supportive in this matter, either elbowing me, saying “They don’t understand what you’re talking about and frankly, neither do I. Just tell them they don’t have that kind of candy anymore. Do you really expect little kids to understand the shit you’re talking about?” So we ate our supper, we did, the kids picked at their food glaring at me with barely veiled anger over breaking my promise. After finishing our evening meal, I bought both of the children a bag of candy they had chosen, so, in a way I kept my promise, minus the rum balls.
But, there was no peace on the way home that night as the children’s minds, haunted by the elusive, phantom rum balls soon began to feud in the car. Having previously selected their own personal bags of candy, each soon began coveting the confectionary treat that the other had. This led to bellows from the back seat of “Mommy, David won’t share his candy with me” or “If I give Jenny a piece of my chocolate why can’t I have one of hers.” This bickering eventually led to Marta yelling back at the kids “Shut up or I’ll let Jack deal with you.” This was an empty threat as once upon a time she told me to discipline her son David and I slapped him across the mouth with the back of my hand and she soon let me know in no uncertain terms that these were HER KIDS and I was never to touch them again. Fine and dandy, they were indeed her children by a bloke named Ernie Jenkins but, he wasn’t around and a fist in the face or a belt across the ass worked fine for my father and the Jesuit Priest who was a principal at school, when I was a bad boy, at school. So, why not knock the kids around now and then; it’ll make them better adults when their grown. But, I digress, and go too fast, lest the story over task itself. As this was a meaningless, empty threat and the children knew it, they reacted the way kids always do to meaningless empty threats, by increasing their rotten, rowdy behavior. To add to the general discomfort of the ride back, they started occasionally kicking the back seat to protest the lack of rum balls.
Time continued to pass, they way time is given to do and, though Marta and I kept going to Katsamps Family Restaurant occasionally, we never again dared mention rum balls. David and Jenny forgot quickly, the way children are given to do, when an adult breaks a minor promise. Although the food was certainly up to snuff, we never went there with her kids as often as my parents took me to the place when I was a child. Often, months passed between visits. So, one day a couple of years after the incident that opened this article, only to find the place shut up as tight as a drum with no sign of life anywhere. It was kind of bizarre, like when Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock would beam down to a parallel planet where all life had been wiped out by some weird plague from outer space that left the buildings intact but, killed all of the people. But, no, it wasn’t like that, Marta quickly found a beautician or some shop girl who told her the Katsamps all moved back to Greece together. This is something Greeks always do. They make a ton of money living in America, then once they’ve bled it white, they pack up and head back to Greece lock, stock, and barrel. This was a shocker to us, as Katsamps Restaurant was a landmark in downtown Zanesville. Not only had I gone there as a very young child, my girlfriend, Marta once waited tables there, after school, as a teenager. So, this was a bummer and we passed away the day watching David and Jenny feed ducks in the park or something.
As this gentle scene of children playing by the pond played out before our eyes Marta and I began sharing memories of Katsamps Restaurant from days gone by. I told her that when I was about the age her kids were then (circa mid-1980’s) my parents took me to Katsamps or Howard Johnson’s every Friday as a payday treat, after my father collected his pay envelope from the factory he worked for. It may have been at this point that she mentioned she waited tables at the place in the late 1950’s after school or during summer break.
But, all too soon these pleasant memories were overshadowed by the memory of Pete Katsamps words in pigeon English: “We have no rum balls anymore; it’s illegal to sell alcoholic chocolates in Ohio these days.” And as I recounted the incident, Marta giggled the way girls do when they think something’s funny that usually isn’t. It vexed me how Ohio’s laws had changed in the span of 20 odd years and why something, that seemed as harmless to me as alcoholic candy should be banned. Keep in mind this was before auto emissions tests, public smoking bans threatening homeowners with criminal charges and all the other draconian bullshit it takes for the municipal, provincial, and federal government in this lousy country to get by. After a brief discussion about basic liberties and rights being lost, I guess she decided to go play with the children rather than hear me ramble on about a bunch of political stuff she couldn’t grasp.
As Marta Jenkins was very nice to look at in a bathing suit (at least, I thought so) running around the duck pond playing with her son and daughter, I found looking at a pretty girl more interesting than dwelling on the Orwellian politics of the mid-1980’s. I’ve noticed over the years, a lot of political activists, conspiracy theorists, UFO buffs, and anti-establishment types are really very unhappy people. I guess the Bible got it right when it says: “He who increaseth knowledge increases sorrow.” As I am not one of those people I’ve always tried to look on the bright side of life and be happy- with the exception being the two times I was nearly sent to prison on a trumped-up, completely bogus charge, and, a guilt by association clause in the state of Illinois. But, one of those cases was in the past, the other in the future and hadn’t happened yet. So, at the end of a pleasant day out I watched the sun start to decline for the day and the kids feeding the last crumbs to the geese and ducks, or whatever they were playing at until Marta said it’s getting late, we better go now.
Despite the above statement and my cautioning associates against paranoia, I made quite a good sport using George Orwell to get letters and articles published in the Times Recorder, this probably pleased Marta Jenkins no end as it gave me a sort of local celebrity status and girls always like to hang on the arm of somebody who is famous. And, you know, even though it was a very limited and local fame, it was very real though, as sometimes people did call my house. It seemed to me that Marta got a thrill out of saying: “Grimes residence” and hearing the voice on the other end of the phone asking, “Is this the house of the man who wrote the letter to the editor?” As hard as it may be to fathom, I was actually able to tie the rum ball incident into an Orwellian sign of the times letter to the editor that the Times Recorder entitled “Why can’t residents of Ohio purchase Alcoholic Chocolates anymore?” But, prior to publishing the piece the newspaper called me and said they’d like to publish my letter as sort of a personal observation of how the state has been intruding more and more on citizen’s rights over the last several years, but the editorial staff didn’t feel they should use the name Katsamps Family Restaurant in the letter as it would be like a free ad ( I can’t recall whether I wrote said article before or after we found the place had closed and the Katsamps family had returned to Greece). I told the lady who called I agreed with their reasoning and gave them permission to edit the article as they pleased. Yes, there was a time in by gone days when newspapers actually asked permission before editing your works, as hard as it is to believe the way things have gone in the USA since Bush & Co. staged the 9/11 hoax.
Even though we faced many problems common to modern times, like mechanics never failed to cheat us on cars we owned together and the house I owned with Marta Jenkins, was eventually repossessed by the bank, overall people and establishments in America back then seemed to be more decent and respectful of the general public. By contrast, today merchants around Delaware these days have done nothing but cheat Heather Goldsmith every chance they’ve had every time we step forth from our home. I mention this in context of the present article to stress the crass, self-centered consumerism of the present day, has gotten much worse since the early to late 1980’s. Historically, the 1980’s weren’t very long ago at all. But, how long does it take to turn people into a me-oriented consumer mass, who don’t care about anybody or anything except the pleasures of the moment and what they can grab? The end result of capitalism is always a consumer mass that are totally self-absorbed and wholly mean-spirited. Henry Ford told readers, to create such a public would take about 25 years. That seems about right within this story’s timeline. Such a public care for nothing, nor will such men step out of line; they will never question rules or regulations. This is why the government breeds such a populace; they’ll never stand up against any infraction, nor protest any Hitleranian legislation, they won’t buck any oppressive law no matter how much it infringes on their liberties, even if it involves rum balls and other wonderful confectionary treats.
In a rare act of kindness, not common in the 1980’s we managed to squeeze some pleasurable moments out of a circus that came to Muskingum County. It happened for some reason, I can’t recall, we happened to be at the old train depot in Zanesville when a circus train was unloading the cages full of animals. One of the tigers pissed through the bars of the small holding cage it was being transported in and happened to hit me. The proprietor of the circus, who may have also acted as the ringmaster, gave us four free tickets to see a performance. Later that evening after I’d gone home and cleaned up, Marta and I took the children to the show that night. I think we enjoyed the unexpected outing, in spite of no trapeze artists falling to their doom, tigers eating anyone or, that guy who puts his head under the elephant’s foot, not getting it squished by the giant beast as her young son, David, hoped we’d see. I have read nothing is as violent and mean as a child, psychologists claim this is the true nature of mankind before society socializes and civilizes them. Given this statement is the unvarnished truth; it’s probably why we’ve messed up the planet so bad. De Sade once wrote we wear masks our entire life and concluded we only drop them in moments of heightened emotion, like extreme fear or pleasure at the opposite end of the spectrum. Perhaps young children haven’t grown into their masks until civilization (which isn’t very civilized) molds them to it’s patterns of force and turns them into automatons. Automatons is a good word to describe the common man these days and a robot is exactly what the man on the street reminds me of now days. I guess, even though America was a maggot-infested shit hole by the 1980’s the people weren’t quite as brain dead as they are now. I’ve noticed an uncaring coldness in people for the last 10 years or so, that makes living in America a nightmare, sort of like living amid the zombies from a low budget 1950’s B horror film.
As I had gone to Katsamps restaurant with my parents from the time I was a very little child, their closing down and returning to Greece was like a piece of my childhood was lost. But the city of Zanesville was constantly changing. The last factory closed in the mid-60’s forcing my father, Joshua Grimes, to follow the plant to their regional headquarters which was in Lancaster, OH; a neighboring community.
In the 1950’s, when my father and mother moved from Florida to Ohio, the City of Zanesville had roughly 68 thousand people, in the 1980’s when the bulk of our tale takes place I estimate it had 48 thousand residents in the Muskingum County area. The last time we spoke to a woman living there (fall, 2009) she told us that Zanesville has a population of 30 thousand. Frankly, I’m surprised that it retains that large of a population as there’s been no large-scale industrial production there to speak of since the depression of 1929 closed the brickyards and potteries. What heavy industry was left pulled out in the mid-to-late 1960’s, how the people who live there today make a living, I don’t know. We used to see tons of people just hanging out on street corners when we lived there, most of them uneducated and unemployable. If you want to see a microcosm of the night of the living dead, take a ride through Muskingum County in Ohio any summer day, I’m sure the zombies of Zanesville are still waiting to greet you. In spite of “Mr. Change” beating McCain in 2008’ things haven’t really changed all that much except the condition of zombism in southern Ohio in the 1980’s seems to have spread to every part of the USA transforming it to one huge cross-continental burial plot from sea to slime-infested sea. The Transportation Security Administration vows to carry on the draconian programmes of the Bush Administration, even to the point of requiring Americans to have travel documents to go between places inside of this country itself.
So, the Katsamps family had returned to their native homeland and were happily making rum balls again assuming Greece isn’t a draconian dung heap like America. Meanwhile, back in the USA, I’m still wondering why can’t we buy rum balls anymore. The answer to that question should be about as obvious as “does your chewing gum lose its flavor on the bed post over night?”, without the melody, as nobody ever wrote a song about rum balls, so far as I know. The things we think about once we’ve had a few cups of rum may seem dumb but, I’ve always found a little alcohol stimulates the little grey cells as it causes the mind to wander into restricted territory, and anybody who could sit down and compose a story about rum balls and hope it would be published would have to be slightly drunk while penning his essay. While the topic may be nonsense on the surface, the subject matter certainly isn’t. I guess if a sober person were to read this tragic tale they might actually think it has to do with rum balls, which are only the surface of our comedy of errors. You see that’s what this story really is but, I hope, in my drunken haze I’ve constructed it to make you think. Fuck rum balls, they’re not important; it’s not about alcoholic candies any more than it is a lost love of my youth.
It is, if anything at all, a story about the levels of conceptual reality, how time and the LAWS of men change the world around us. Mostly, it deals with a lack of civil liberties and a call for a return to social justice, although, these events took place about 13 years prior to my being offered the leadership position in the United Fascist Union. More than anything, it’s another FUCKING attempt, that will probably fall on deaf ears, to illustrate what a fucking Orwellian hell hole Amerika has become.
Fins!
Terrorists Needed Now in the USA!
:
Name: TheGothicWitch
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Last Login: Oct 1, 2010
Member Since: Aug 26, 2008
Dear Laura:
have read the USA Patriot Act. I got it free when Congress was still giving the (inappropriate term) thing out before they realized some people in this (inappropriate term) country could still do mathe and two and two still ads up to four. You'd probably like The Sovereign they're into this dracconian stuff. What Americans? There aren't many left between the (inappropriate term), (inappropriate term) and the n*gg*rs. Knowing this crap isn't worth a hill of bean unless you have people who are willing put their (inappropriate term) on the line, take up arms and kill the political piggies, the muds and the n*gg*rs.
The only thing to do today,if you had the caliber of men would be to organize a real terrorist gang like Gen. Forrest did following the american Civil. In a perfect world i'd like to see 0bama dead and, I'll abmit it would put a smile on my face in one of these redneck types slabbed that burr headed baboon. But unless a massive terrorist organization can be oranized, along the lines of the original Holy 0rder Ku Klux Klan, that's able to commit mass murder at will the mud flood is going to continue until the Aryan race is completely destroyed on the North American continent.
I never believed in the US Constitution you know that. I've talked that crap for years to play the masses. Dictatorship really is a better system than this (inappropriate term), as you should know. 0nly I got to be the Dictator, not some stinking Kenyan born burr headed animal.
They've talked about all this 0rwellian crap since RED Ronny Ray-gun signed the REX 84 legislation into law. Talk is just (inappropriate term). Nothing is ever going to change, for the better, in the dung pile formerly know as the USA, unless and until Aryan Americans organize themselves into murder gangs and start killing ALL non-whites.
Look at this crap in Arizona right now with the w*t-b*cks. these mud races aren't fooling around. They murdered ALL of the white people in Dede County, that's how Spanish became the official language of Miami. The. S.K.K.K.K. sent me there as a sort of an undercover agent. They piled the dead up on street corners like cored wood. These sp*cs that are cming here from Mexico today are the same ilk as the trash Castro farmed out to the US back then.
If I knew how I'd like to get an UZI machine pistol, put it under my trench coat and go shooting (inappropriate term) & (inappropriate term) in Rodney Sq. till they shoot me.
Can the anti-government clap-trap. You coming to Delaware or not? There's no more political fuctions in the near future so I don't know when I'll be back to the Rodney Sq.
Better write the U.F.U.'s postal address; Mr. J. Grimesc/o the United Fascist Union:P.O.B. 384;Wilmington, DE 19899.
Mothers' Ghost Story;
To the Editor:
When I was a boy, we lived in Zanesville, Ohio’s historic Putnam district, which is one of the oldest settlements in Ohio; established around 1800, then annexed to the city of Zanesville in 1872. Once in a while as we were driving home, I would point to a house and say, “that looks like a castle”, “that’s a fancy one” or “my, that’s a big house”. My mother, Mabel Grimes, would then tell me it was built by a man named Dr LaRue or Horace Nye and his wife lived there a long time ago. She also told me the story of how many of the rich folks, whose families built these mansions, were noted abolitionists and several of the houses, were used as a part of the Underground Railroad to hide runaway negr0 slaves, trying to make their way to Canada prior to the American Civil War. Some of mom’s stories dealt with these old houses, many of which were abandoned ruins by the late 1950’s or early 1960’s, being haunted by ghosts of runaways who were in such bad shape that they died in these houses. As hiding escaped slaves was illegal in the 1830’s and 1840’s if you were harbouring a Negr0, who died on your property, you walled up his corpse in the basement and hoped nobody ever discovered the bones.
Family members claimed my mother had been born with a cowl over her face. According to Irish folklore, babies born with this deformity have psychic gifts that include the ability to see ghosts. As I came into my teen years, mom told me and some other youths how when she was about our ages she saw a ghost in one of these dilapidated houses. Supposedly, back in the 1930’s a group of young adults, my mother amoung them, broke into one of these wrecks with some bootleg booze, with the intention of having a moonshine party. No sooner had the drinking got hot and heavy than they heard a mournful sound and chains started rattling. Soon, footfalls were heard in the hall just outside of the room where the partiers were, then an etheric black man, who must have looked like something out of Dickens’ Scrooge novel, appeared in the doorway. Seeming to take no note of the living spectators, he went to a window in the hallway, peered out, and then vanished. You might chalk these events up to drunkenness. Be that as it may, I record it for Fate Magazine as it’s a quintessential ghost story told the world over.
Whatever my mother’s condition or state of mind at the time may have been the historic record proves the story bears heeding. Stone Academy, one of the houses she pointed out to me, was built around 1809 and used by the Ohio Abolition Society in the 1830’s. George Guthrie’s Greek Revival home on Woodlawn Avenue, circa. 1841, was used as a station house along the Underground Railroad where Guthrie often hid black refugees. The LaRue apartments, built as a swanky estate for a doctor, then converted to apartments later, was slated for demolition, in the 1980’s, after which a dispute erupted with the Historic Preservation Society of Muskingum County that claimed it was a landmark because of it’s use in aiding persons of colour fleeing from the CSA. In addition to these facts, we know that noted abolitionist Theodore D. Weld addressed conventions of the Ohio Abolitionist Society in the Putnam area. Furthermore, Frederick Douglas and William Beecher also addressed anti-slavery enthusiasts in Putnam during this period. Given these documented facts it’s safe to assume that there’s more than a grain of truth to mother’s ghost story.
Mr. J. Grimes
Current mood:
devious Category: News and Politics
I Married a Man 0ut 0f His Humours
By Mr. J. Grimes
In the summer of 1962 I was 22 years old, I had just married a man named Donald Hollinger the previous summer. Though I was very young at the time and he was a handsome Harry type, there were already red flags regarding our marriage that had I been more worldly wise back then I may have picked upon. He seemed to have a temper, which seemed it may lead to violence and was easily provoked and given to mood swings, which are a sign of mental illness. All of which I was blissfully ignorant of. But, to my own credit, who knew, nobody reads Burton anymore so no one understands a melancholy nature. Modern doctors don't understand much of anything including what insanity truly is. And that is really what this story is all about....
It was a beautiful sunny day in June, Kim Hollinger drove towards the cabin in the woods in her red Nash Rambler, that he father had given to her as a wedding gift shortly after her marriage had taken place. A pretty blond who came from money she spent her days in the city at the salons having her hair done and buying clothes, without any real concerns of any sort, or at least that's how it seemed at the time. Today she bought a new hat to go with her new hair doo and the thought of the hat occupied her mind as she drove home. As the car pulled into the drive was and came to a stop, the young lady who was driving paused for a moment before exiting the vehicle to check her make-up and make sure her lipstick was on ok. As Kim was a natural blond with blue eyes and a lunar complexion she liked to wear bright red lipstick and dark blue eye shadow as a sort of contrast.
The tall thin platinum blond walked up the short sidewalk towards the log cabin, adjusting the red hat she'd just bought. She thought is was a contrast to the grey skirted ladies suit she was wearing but hoped that it wouldn't actually clash with that or any of her other outfits too badly. A truly beautiful woman, Kim had thought of modeling as she was 5'9 and one of the girls she'd gone to school with told her modeling agencies were always looking for tall girls, as height usually added to the natural shapeliness of a woman's legs and otherwise enhanced the curves of the female body. But, it was only a passing thought, although she may have tried to get a portfolio together and submit it to several agencies in New York city and Los Angeles, had not her werlwind romance with Donald ended in a sudden and unexpected marriage.
Entering the cabin quietly, Kim saw no sign of Donald or anyone. She thought that was strange as her friend Lori Flickenger's car was parked in the drive way, so she expected to find both Lori and Donald in the living room chatting perhaps with some other mutual friends. She called out saying hello, receiving no reply, she assumed they must have gone somewhere together in Donald’s car. So, Kim climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, intending to put her new hat in the closet. Upon entering the bed chamber a terrible sight confronted her. Donald and Lori were in bed together making love. Kim froze in place unable to think what to do next.
Kim Hollinger stood petrified, like a deer caught in the headlights of a passing motor car, for what seemed to be the longest instant of her life. Before her on the bed lay her husband Donald on his back, with Lori Flickinger, one of her closest and she thought dearest friends riding him like a mule, both naked as a J bird. What an odd expression, for the life of me I can't think why a J bird should be thought of as anymore naked than any other species of bird. When Kim could think again, she blinked a couple of times in disbelief at the sight that met her eyes, swallowed hard, then screamed, " I WANT A DIVORCE!" The secret lovers, discovered looked in the direction of the angry voice, to see a trembling, wide eyed blond standing awe struck in the door way. Donald spoke first, saying; "Kimmy" in a raspy voice, then Lori too said Kim, probably for lack of knowing what else to say or how to react under the circumstanced fate had placed the trio in. Going red in the face the jilted wife screamed again, "I want a divorce" turned on her heel and ran towards the top of the stair case. Kims pumps made a tap, tap, tap sound as she ran down the stairs, headed towards the front door, intending to jump back in her automobile and run to mommy and daddy in the city to get advice and inquire about a divorce lawyer, assuming he'd know one as he knew all sorts of business people.
No sooner had she reached the hall though than Lori came up from behind her and blocked the door to prevent her leaving. At that moment she heard Donald's voice calling from behind her saying "wait a minute Kimmy, before you do something you'll regret, let us talk to you first". She half heard what the mans voice said and wasn't in the mood to talk at the moment anyway but, Lori was now actually blocking her path towards the exit, like her male companion, she too said; Let us talk to you before you act in haste. Full of anger, Kim going red in the face, stomped down hard on Lori's bear foot with the heel of her grey and white pump, causing the girl to hop in pain and move away from the door enough for her to grasp the knob. No sooner had she done so though than she felt hands grasp her by the shoulders, then she was pushed hard towards the floor and forced down to her knees. She realized Donald had caught up with her and grabbed her from behind then forced her to knell but she still had a grip on the knob and would turn it. Then as she started to use the door knob a leverage to get back on her feet or something, Lori recovering her balance, hit Kim on the wrist with a swat that looked something like a karate chop causing her to loose her grip on the handle.
Kim screamed, "Let me go you mother fucker, I want a fucking divorce, you god damned mother fucking bastard!" Donald's voice interjected over the irate womans rant saying; "lets reason together before you do something I'll make sure you regret." Even though his voice was perfectly smooth, calm and even toned, Kim knew what the intonation implied even though they'd only been married a few months. But this was one time she didn't care, her anger over came fear of Donald's odd often misplaced temper and unpredictable mood swings as she continued to scream, Divorce! while struggling to get Donald's hands off of her shoulders so she could get to her feet and flee. Donald's voice again saying, "calm down my dear, lets reason together, we're all adults here". But, the hysterical woman clearly wasn't in the mood to reason anything through at the moment, and continued screaming. Then suddenly out of the corner of her eye Kim saw a yellow object flash into view, then felt a stinging sensation in her cheek, though it took a second for her to realize what had just happened, then she knew Lori had hit her across the face with one of her shoes, a yellow pump that matched the colour of her dress that lay crumpled on the floor.
As Kim sat on her knees feeling Donald's hands pressing down hard on her shoulders holding her firmly in place, with a red welt on her right check in the shape a Lori's shoe, this is one of the few times in her life that her big mouth was actually shut as she sat in a stund silence. She looked up at the woman who wacked her across the face with the shoe, a woman she'd believed until a few minuets ago was her best friend. Lori was shorter than herself Kim thought as she looked as the lady with chesnut hair and brown eyes, who stood about 5'4 inches tall. She wasn't as shapely as herself and rather plain by contrast, when ever she wore make-up in was subdued rather than obvious and she wasn't as shapely either, kim thought as she glanced at the other woman. In many way Lori was the polar opposite of herself, so still sitting restrained on her knees unable to do anything else she decided to lash out out the competition with a tirade of verbal abuse, believing Lori to be substandard compared to own beauty. She screamed out, what the hell's wrong with you cheating on me with something that looks like that, are you blind. Look at her, she's dead common, I bet nobody ever wanted the bitch to pose fore the Sears catalogue, did they.
Donald keeping his composuer,speaking in a stained voice however said, "will you shut up. Please just be quiet Kimberly Sue". This only pissed her off more and the irate woman began screaming the word DIVORCE over and over again, as she had done previously, when Donald first caught up to her and forced her to kneel by the door. Now the mans voice interjected over the woman's screams again, this time firmer and a more pronounces angry tone commanding, "If you don't shut your kisser right now, I'll paste you in it and that'll sure as hell hurt a lot worse than the toe of a shoe across the check bitch baby!" But the enraged woman seemingly oblivious to her husbands command continued to scream the phraise"Let me go you cock sucker, I want a DIVORCE!" over and over since Donald caught her. Then suddenly Lori threw something into Kim's open moth as she was yelling. Something that she'd swallowed involuntarily without thinking.
Now Donald's voice interjected once more this time directed at Lori. "What did you do?" Lori shrugged saying huh. What did you just do? Donald repeated. Lori made a motion with her hand as if to brush something minor off adding, "gave her some of the stuff". To which Donald responded, "what do you mean?" "Some of the dope you give the girls, the stuff you used on me when you first doped me". Now, Donald yelled "merciful Gods did I tell you to do that, you fucking moron?" No, Lori interjected adding that, "you always said you'd like a twofer with both of us, if this bitch wasn't so fridge, now once the junk kicks in she won't be fridge anymore. Kim, stopped screaming and fell silent, listening very carefully to the conversation going on between her tormenters, as she began to realize she'd gotten in something far deeper than walking in on an adulterer husband caught in the act of adultery. Donald screamed, "How many of them did you give her". Answering in kind, "Lori say's two or three". "JESUS CHRIST, Donald screamed, TWO OR THREE, YOU WANT TO KILL HER!" Lori with a mock look of concern said, " I don't know what you mean, I thought it just made women horny." No, you stupid FUCK, one added to food or a drink to camouflage it, not three pills, you retarded freak, we need her alive and reasonably well for the scam to work the way we planned.
I Married a Man 0ut of his Humours
As Kim sat on her knees feeling Donald's hands pressing down hard on her shoulders holding her firmly in place, with a red welt on her right check in the shape a Lori's shoe, this is one of the few times in her life that her big mouth was actually shut as she sat in a stund silence. She looked up at the woman who wacked her across the face with the shoe, a woman she'd believed until a few minutes ago was her best friend. Lori was shorter than herself Kim thought as she looked as the lady with chestnut hair and brown eyes, who stood about 5'4 inches tall. She wasn't as shapely as herself and rather plain by contrast, when ever she wore make-up in was subdued rather than obvious and she wasn't as shapely either, kim thought as she glanced at the other woman. In many way Lori was the polar opposite of herself, so still sitting restrained on her knees unable to do anything else she decided to lash out out the competition with a tirade of verbal abuse, believing Lori to be substandard compared to own beauty. She screamed out, what the hell's wrong with you cheating on me with something that looks like that, are you blind. Look at her, she's dead common, I bet nobody ever wanted the bitch to pose fore the Sears catalogue, did they.
Donald keeping his composuer,speaking in a stained voice however said, "will you shut up. Please just be quiet Kimberly Sue". This only pissed her off more and the irate woman began screaming the word DIVORCE over and over again, as she had done previously, when Donald first caught up to her and forced her to kneel by the door. Now the mans voice interjected over the woman's screams again, this time firmer and a more pronounces angry tone commanding, "If you don't shut your kisser right now, I'll paste you in it and that'll sure as hell hurt a lot worse than the toe of a shoe across the check bitch baby!" But the enraged woman seemingly oblivious to her husband’s command continued to scream the phraise"Let me go you cock sucker, I want a DIVORCE!" over and over since Donald caught her. Then suddenly Lori threw something into Kim's open moth as she was yelling. Something that she'd swallowed involuntarily without thinking.
Now Donald's voice interjected once more this time directed at Lori. "What did you do?" Lori shrugged saying huh. What did you just do? Donald repeated. Lori made a motion with her hand as if to brush something minor off adding, "gave her some of the stuff". To which Donald responded, "what do you mean?" "Some of the dope you give the girls, the stuff you used on me when you first doped me". Now, Donald yelled "merciful Gods did I tell you to do that, you fucking moron?" No, Lori interjected adding that, "you always said you'd like a twofer with both of us, if this bitch wasn't so fridge, now once the junk kicks in she won't be fridge anymore. Kim, stopped screaming and fell silent, listening very carefully to the conversation going on between her tormenters, as she began to realize she'd gotten in something far deeper than walking in on an adulterer husband caught in the act of adultery. Donald screamed, "How many of them did you give her". Answering in kind, "Lori say's two or three". "JESUS CHRIST, Donald screamed, TWO OR THREE, YOU WANT TO KILL HER!" Lori with a mock look of concern said, “I don't know what you mean, I thought it just made women horny." No, you stupid FUCK, one added to food or a drink to camouflage it, not three pills, you retarded freak, we need her alive and reasonably well for the scam to work the way we planned.
Now Kim finally managed to shake free from Donald's grip and bolt up right to her feet, perhaps from the shock of what she had just heard. Being free once more she made a fist and swung at Lori hitting the brunet in the mouth with a right cross, which knocked her on her ass. Then turning the knob she began to open the door, only to have Donald's hand slam it shut again. Now, Kim turned around to face Donald, who had that stupid crooked smile on his face, he always had when he was up to something devious. In a loud voice Kim said; "Let me outta here, or I'll knock you on your ass to". "That's not all wise in your condition”, he replied, "that's been know to make dames so hot, they've gored themselves to death on gearshifts of cars when it grabs them and this retard", poiting where Lori sit on her ass holding her jaw, "gave you three hits". Kim says, yeah, I heard, I got to go to the hospital and get my stomach pumped". "How you gona do that?" Donald asks, "we're at least 45 minutes away from the nearest hospital, that'll grab you in about ten minutes, then you'll want to rip your clothes off and fuck anything that's got a pointy bit sticking out of it". Kim stood open mouthed as Donald continued his monologue. "I kid you not babe, I heard of cases where women that were given multiple doses of that shit gored themselves to death on tree branches trying to get off". Kim blinked and finally stammered out, "have I been that bad of a wife that you'd resort to murder to be rid of me"? Shaking his head Donald says, 0h no, no, you got it wrong babe honestly. I'll admit it's a bit boring at times, missionary position every time night after night but, no it's nothing personal, just business". Continuing in the same vein, Donald concludes," see I married Lori before I married you and having two living wives becomes a bit complicated at times, especially since it's illegal in the states and you usually don't want them to find out about each other. Kim, with a confused look on her face asks, "what do you mean?" "Well, I married Lori back in the fall of 1957, in Alabama", he informs her. Then adds as a postscript, "so actually you're the other woman but, I'd just decided earlier today, I love you both, so I wasn't going to kill you like I usually do the marks once we've used'em up, as I want to keep you both". Hearing the news, Kim fell backwards onto a small stool by the door and felt faint.
At this point she thought back to how Lori had introduced her to Donald the previous spring and encouraged the romance even coaching her how to firm up the relationship so it would be long lasting. Now, that she thought about it and looked in the general direction of her one time pal, she thought how Lori had in fact managed her and Donald's relationship from their first date which she arranged to putting a flea in her ear to marry Donald, with all her talk about what a good catch he'd be. Now she helt like a fool. Donald continued telling her; "Look babe, you isn’t gona die from two or even three, you're going to get hornier than you ever been in your life though. So my advice to you is stay here so we can take care of you once the shit kicks in. "Kim, in a quiet voice asks, "How do I know that?" Donald in his reassuring voice tells her; "you heard me tell Lori we need you alive and well for the next part of the con to work and besides, a woman with your looks can be very useful to me in future dealings". Lori listening to Donald's conversation with Kim looks on in silence but with a look of concern growing in her eyes. Kim responds; "as bait?" "Honestly, Donald says, "I wouldn't have used that term but yes, if you like, you got the looks. Lori and I were talking about how nice it would be to have a third person. We could manage so much better with a reliable third person we could count on." To do what, Kim quizzing asks. Whatever it takes to score, Donald says. If I live, Kim says, in a dull voice". 0h, you'll be ok doll, trust me. If you’re really scared go stick your finger down your throat to induce vomiting that should bring up enough junk so it doesn't do anything more than make you have to fuck. Lori will go with you to help you, he ads. With a snide look on her face, Kim says, and TO make sure I don't jump out the John window and make a break for one of the cars. In the wash room, Kim kneels by the toilet in her stocking feet, having taken her shoes off before kneeling voluntarily this time and stuck a finger down her throat to induce vomiting.
Lori had a hold of Kim's shoulders making her walk back and forth across the room for about ten minutes, on the pretense of working the some amount of the drug out of her system to make sure the dose she had injected wasn't lethal. In reality she suspected Donald took some perverted pleasure in watching this activity. Kim suddenly felt a surge of heat sweep over her, then her chest seemed to feel very constricted. At which point she suddenly stopped, ripped open her jacket and then her blouse and said in a loud voice, "if I'm going to keep doing this I don't want anything binding my chest, making it impossible to breath". Then she shed her jacket and blouse before reaching around behind her back and unhooking her bra and tossing it on the floor where the jacket and blouse were already laying. Her light pink nipples were rock hard and greatly inflated, hive that itchy feeling in her breasts that women always do when they're horny, Kim began tracing her nipples first with one finger, the twirling round them with her thumb and pointer finger. These activity going on for a couple of minute before Kim feel backwards on the bed and began lower her skirt and under pants while making the thrusting motion women do when the are wanting to have an orgasm. Lori took for Kim's stockings, then reached up an pulled her skirt, which was dangling around her ankles by this time down over her feet. When she did likewise with the blonds underpants she quickly found the woman laying on the bed had caught her in a scissor hold between her legs and pulled her towards her. Realizing it was another woman she had in her grip Kim said: "You're not my husband Donald, you're somebody else. 0h now I remember you're my old friend Lori. Well, since you made my husband to tiered to fuck me by screwing him while I was out, you'll have to do. Lori looked up at Donald, saying "what the hell do I do now?" Donald answered back; "not to worry my dear, Kim knows what to do, her activity in college is what we were going to use so she'd help us extort money out of daddy".
Donald left Lori to watch Kim after she had exhausted herself with extreme lesbian antics of all kinds, thinking either she'd recover or die, if she recovered Donald knew Lori would know what to do, if on the other hand she died Lori would call him and they'd burry the body in the woods. The cabin was surrounded by trees, bushes and over growth of all kind as well as a lake out back of the place. Kim and Lori liked the location because deer's and other wildlife would come so near the cabin they could watch them for hours on end, Donald loved it for a different reason, he wanted to dispose of Kim, if his blackmail scheme went wrong and he was forced to kill her. Lori was becoming more and more suspicious of Donald wanting to keep Kim as part of their team once the long con was finished, they'd been a duo for so long and she knew Donald wouldn't want a third wheel around very long. Kim was beginning to wake up and Lori's mind ever turning, knew she'd better do something quick or she or Kim very well may end up dead before to long. Kim sat up but before she could speak, Lori said in a serious tone we need to talk together very quietly before Donald comes back. To which Kim replies in a hushed tone, why would I talk to scum like you, you fucked my husband. Lori whispers, don't you remember he told you he was married to me before he married you. Donald is a man out of his humours, we've got to kill him before he kills one or both of us". What? Kim says looking shocked. Lori continues; "Have you never read Shakespeare? He's a melancholic nature infected with black bile, he'll do terrible thing to your mother and father and force us to do terrible things to if we don't kill him now.
Kim seems at least ready to listen to the story Lori begins to relate as the girl begins talking. "I married the man you know as Donald Hollinger in 1957, I had just turned 19 at the time, he was my brothers friend from college, only then he went by the name James Rollins Flickenger. My brother, who Donald was to later murder, introduced us a few months before the annual cotillion my grandparents had started on a plantation my family had owned in Alabama for generations. Even though my family were very high amid the social registry locally, we had suffered some set back since the war between the states and the abolition of slavery as an institution in this country but, were still very wealthy by anybody's standard at the time our courtship started. Soon after we were married I started noticing he wasn't what he first appeared to be. He became moody, sullen and with drawn at times, then began having sudden mood swings and finally fits common to a melancholy nature. Being young and easily influenced J. R., as we called him in those days seduced me first with liquor then drugs, after he got me addicted to opium he used it to control me, so I became a virtual slave. After he knew he had broken my will and made me malleable with drugs, alcohol and endless mind games, he told me he had a plan whereby I could have everything to be mine if I'd do whatever he told me to do. 0h he was clever he didn't speak of murder at first, he only let me know all the details right before we killed my brother, after it was far too late for me to back out. Kim, you were saying something about it. Yes, Lori, continues, as time went by I discovered he had licenses for six U.S. states and three Canadian provinces all in different names and an American, Canadian and English passport similarly in all different names. "So, who is this guy" Kim queries? Lori shrugs, "who knows".
Kim continues, " I meant you said something about we'd have to work together to kill him before he kills one or both of us". "Yes, Lori interjects; he has a plan to blackmail your father by threatening to expose your sex habits in college". Kim looks quaintly, then says, "How the fuck does he know that?" We followed you for about four months before I introduced myself to you and became your friend. During that time we took photos of you and recorded conversations between you and your same sex companions that J. R., I mean Donald, will show to your father, if you can't extort money out of the old man for him" Kim, looking frightened says " 0h my, that would kill daddy, he's already had one heart attack two years ago another would probably finish him off". Don't you think he knows that, that's why he sent me in to be your constant companion and had me micro-manage your relationship so youi'd think it was your idea to marry him?" "Why should I trust you now then?" Kim asks. Lori answers telling her, “because we are both in the gravest of danger and he will kill one or both of us in short order" Kim responds saying, "what can we do?" We can kill him before he kills us", Lori concludes. Kim tells her, " Easy for you, I've never killed anyone before". Then continues, "How to do it?" Lori says, leave that to me, I have some knowledge of poisons. Wolfs bane they say leaves no traces doctors can detect, I'll show you what I mean" Lori says, "Be quiet if you hear Donald come up the stairs, I'll be right back, then she leaves the room.
Lori climbs the stairs from the basement with a small plant with little yellow flowers on it and steps into the hallway that leads to the kitchen. Passing by the kitchen door she notices the light in unexpectedly on, looking in a gruesome sight meets her eyes. Kim, still completely nude is standing over Donald’s body, with a cast-iron skillet in her had that she's obviously just used to bash his brain out as bloods splattered everywhere. With a shocked look on her face Lori says; “Jesus Christ what happened here?" Kim, with a bloody skillet in hand looks up and informs her rather cool for a murderess, " this nave came back, I told him what you told me, adding I'd love to help him as the shock would kill daddy, then we'd have his fortune to split between us. Thinking he had a willing accomplice put him at his ease, so I brought him down here with the offer of making food, then when his back was turned I bashed his brains out with this skillet. Lori looking amazed tells her, what about the aconite, I brought the wolfs bane but you didn't wait". Kim looking at the plant in her hand said; “Shit, Lori, I thought you meant a picture or something".
Having killed Donald the girls try to determine how best to dispose of the corpse. Lori says; "Pity you don't have bayous in Maine they have bogs that have sucked living men down in a couple of hours, I bet they'd suck up a corpse in no time at all." "What, did you just say", Kim interrupts her line of thought. Lori says, "0h nothing just thinking out loud" then pauses. "No, go on", Kim advises her. Well it occurred to me, I spent the summer with relatives who had large land holdings in Louisiana when I was a little girl and they caution us kids to stay out of the bayous, as they have the same properties as the British Moores to suck a man down in quicksand if he puts his foot in the wrong place. "That's it", Kim tells her adding, Lori you're a genius. We gotten here too only in Maine they're not so pronounced and we call them sink holes, my mom always told me when I was a kid to avoid going into the lake out back by myself because I might get sucked down in a sink hole". "Knowing this helps us how, unless we know where one is" Lori queries Kim. She responds, we weight the body down with a stone and toss it in the lake sooner or later a sink hole will develop or it'll drift towards one and bye, bye Donald".
"Now, where are our clothes", Kim quizzes. Lori informs her, "he's hidden them on us, that's what he did to me after we were married and, wouldn't let me wear any clothes except when we went out, until he trusted me more". "What", Kim cries. "It's a matter of control" Lori responds. Kim tells her; “I know that, that's a no brainer, we have to find them though". Lori looks at Donald's body for a moment until Kim yells at her commanding; "SO FIND THEM!" Lori runs towards the stairs then vanishes up them leaving Kim alone to ponder their situation. She thinks Lori is controllable it might be good to keep in with her after they burry the corpse to use her as a work donkey and make sure she keeps the secret. At which point Lori returns with Kim's skirt & blouse and her own yellow dress, saying; " I couldn't find my nylons or your jacket and hat but I got all these and our shoes too". Kim looks up from her thoughts saying; "Fine this is Corpse disposal we're not doing a fashion show.
At the lake side, the women having fetched the corpse from the trunk of Kim’s fathers Rolls Royce look for a stone or some heavy object to weigh it down with. Suddenly Lori returns chiming in with, "I found these two bricks". Kim looks at the two red building bricks in the brunettes hands saying; Shit, those little things won't hold a corpse to the bottom of the lake we need something bigger". Lori, then tells her; "there is a big rond bolder like thingy not too far from where I found the bricks but I can't shift it by myself you'll have to help lift it." Moving the rock the girls face one another to position it to get the best grip, Lori asks; "do we have any rope assuming we're going to tie this around the corpses waist. Kim answers her back informing her; "I believe so, daddy usually keeps all that kinda stuff in the trunk with flairs in case the car breaks down along the highway". Then Lori asks her; "why didn't you tell me there were flairs in the trunk, we been doing this shit in the dark by moon light". Kim looks up with a mean expression telling her; "exactly how stupid are you, we just killed a guy, you really don't want to draw attention to us by putting down flairs at a time like this.
* * *
.....Well, the years have passed since the incident, we never told anyone, as we swore to each other we wouldn't. I'm an old woman now, three astrologers have confirmed that I'll die sometime next year, probably in the early spring and as Lori died two years there's nothing that can happen to either of us by my penning this diary entry. I thought it would tell you something bout who your father really was as well as why you are the way you are. Lori and I tried our best to protect you and hide the awful things you did and protect you once we realized you had your fathers nature but, we'll both be gone soon and you'll be on your own. It's not your fault; it's mine as I was young and didn't understand biology when I got pregnant by a man out of his humours.
So farewell;
Love Mother
Time To Pay The Piper
By Mr. J. Grimes
Lou Ann Vogel got out of her car and started walking down the street in the general direction of the IRS office, where she had been summoned for the audit she was to endure this morning. Her blond hair blew in the breeze as she walked along, worrying about the general out come of today’s events. She was 36 years old, having been divorced she was the sole provider for her family, consisting of two small children besides herself. She had a pretty face but being just over 5 ft. tall, had put on weight while she was pregnant with her second child that she had never managed to lose after his birth. She dressed herself in her little white dress trimmed in red with a matching belt and red Mary Jane’s, which were usually reserved for church, in spite of the fact she seldom wore any make-up of any kind applied light pink lipstick before leaving the house. Thoughts about the unfairness of her situation and the government being out of control filled her head as she continued her trek.
Inside the IRS another lady, slightly older than Lou Ann, of a different physic sit at a desk in a small office in the cellar, turning on her computer. Having turned 39 the previous January with an olive complexion, straight dark black hair and brown eyes, Gertrude Grundle was the exact polar opposite of the woman whose finances she was about to investigate. Rail thin, over 6ft tall, Gertrude might have cut a more imposing figure if she hadn't wore pointy dark purple pumps, a similar colour dress and jacket, dark blue eye shadow and bright red lipstick to work that day. But, Gertrude dressed in a similar outfit ever day; she thought it made her look more professional in the office environment. She relied on heavy make-up to hide the fact that she was almost completely flat chested and had a rather austere masculine face, or at least she believed she did, in truth her grandparents and parents were Germans and poor Gertrude got not only a horrible German name but also the typical facial features of German women.
As the pudgy blond entered the IRS office an old man behind the counter motioned for her to go down stairs to the cellar. Poor Lou Ann had a heavy heart as she descended the stairs not knowing what to expect as, a man a work hearing about her dilemma had informed her that the IRS had the power of God and once they got a hold of you they'd ring the life out of you. The person she was to see was a Mrs. Grundle,she hoped her interviewer might be sympathetic to her plight or as a woman might understand the position she was in being divorced, then forced to enter the work force after being a home maker for years. Unfortunately for Lou Ann unbeknownst to her, Gertrude's fellow IRS agents had nick named her the dragon lady. Gertrude Grundle didn't think of herself as a particularly mean spirited or unreasonable person but, as an IRS agent she had a duty and a responsibility to the Federal Government and knew what people were.
Lou Ann coming to the bottom step came upon a door which was open, sitting at a desk was a woman with dark hair about her age, she guessed. The lady in the office looked up from her paperwork to see the blond girl standing in her door way, then asked "are you Mrs. Vogel who's come here for the audit?” Lou Ann nodded affirmative and was ushered into the small office. Upon entering the room, Gertrude motioned for her to be seated on the opposite side of the desk. Lou Ann noticed the interviewer was wearing a wedding ring and concluded she couldn't relate to the tribulations and hardships of being divorced or low income. After exchanging a few pointless pleasantries that are always expected when meeting new people for the first time Gertrude was about to explain the basics of an audit when a strange sound like the back fire of a car was heard emanating from somewhere upstairs. Lou Ann jumped in her seat surprised by the loud noise and spilled all the documents and records she'd brought with her all over the floor in front of her chair. At first the ladies thought it was a loud back fire of a motor car, until a blood curtailing scream came from the ground floor, then the BANG noise again. Now they knew what they heard were gun shots,somebody was shooting upstairs in the office. A mini 9/11 was the first thing that crossed Gertrude's mind she knew the IRS was never popular, the times being what they are, domestic terrorists are being spawned by economic conditions.
Gertrude and Lou Ann looked at each other, then glanced together at the small cellar window in the office, much too small for an adult to fit through, even a small woman or a thin one. Then they looked back at one another, each woman registering the terror and sudden dread in the others eyes. Gertrude's bear feet slipped down inside of her very pointy toed shoes as sweat dripped down her heels and ran over the inside soles of her shoes . The blond felt sweat drops from her underarms run down between her dress and pink hooded coat. As they continued to stare at each other before either woman could speak, they heard foot falls on the stairs. Gertrude swallowed hard,Lou Ann's heart raced,they realized the shooter was coming down the steps and there was no way out of the basement that wouldn't put them directly in the gun mans view. Then they saw the masked man dressed in camouflage fatigues appear at the bottom step, in his hand was a rifle. Lou Ann thought to herself, she was about to become the victim of an anti-government nut job because of bad timing.
The gunman didn't speak like a natural man but like a pytho or ventriloquist with a strange voice that seemed to come from his chest or belly, commanding the girls to stand up, he motioned with the barrel of his rifle for the woman to go up stairs. As no one ever says no to a man with a gun, the women did as the masked pytho bid them climbing the stairs. Gertrude could clearly see the light completed blond had gone red in the face, from shock and fear as they left felt tears running down her own cheeks, as they climbed towards whatever the gunman intended for them. Lou Ann spoke only once, saying; “I'm here for an audit, I'm not an employee of the IRS”. Her statement seemed to anger the gunman, as he grabbed the short lady's hair and twisted it towards the back of her head, forcing her to walk directly in front of him, with the rifle resting on her shoulder pointed at the back of the taller woman’s skull. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, a terrible sight met the women’s eyes, the two IRS employees manning the above ground portion of the office lay dead in pools of their own blood, the woman Tanisha having been shot in the face as the gunman entered seems to have been the first to die. 0ld Joe, who was nearly 70 years old and about to retire, had been shot in the back.
The women felt faint at the terrible site and Gertrude stated hyper ventilating, the way you do when you're having a panic attack. The gunman not noticing this or not caring shoved the women towards a hall leading to the back door. Their thoughts raced as they were pushed farther down the hall towards the door to the parking lot. Upon coming upon the door the gunman ordered Gertrude to open it. Reluctantly, without option's, she pushed the door open with her hands then stepped out into the parking lot. She saw an old truck, that was out of place and knew it was the gunman's get away vehicle. As the masked man pushed them towards truck, Lou Ann squilled in pain as he twisted her hair behind her head hurting her, Gertrude gave a small gasp as the fiend ordered her to open a rear door on the back of the truck. The villain bound the blonds hands behind her with a leather strap of some sort, then quickly did likewise to Gertrude. After the task was done, he told them to climb inside. Now they were in trouble and the knew it. In spite of being weak in the knees from terror Gertrude who was a tall girl managed to step into the kidnappers’ vehicle without hindrance. Lou Ann on the other hand, either do to her small size or to her fear couldn't quite make the step up inside the bed, so their abductor literally picked the unfortunate woman up by the makeshift pony tail he had formed in her hair to hold her fast and, threw her bodily into the back then slammed the doors shut.
Now, they were all alone, in the dark, being driven to an unknown destination by a maniac, they knew had the worst intentions and was willing to kill without hesitation. Do to the construction of the moving van itself or modifications the masked man had made to the vehicle to carry his reluctant cargo they were almost in total darkness. They could see each others silhouette though and Lou Ann could see good enough to know Gertrude was lying on her back, due to a small beam light reviling her pointy toed high heels were sticking up towards the ceiling of the motor car. From the sounds she was emitting, Lou Ann knew Gertrude was sobbing, as was she herself at this point. Just moments ago she had thought the audit that she was facing was the most terrible thing that could happen to her in this life, now that seemed to be nothing in light of recent unforeseen events that were unfolding around them. Lou Ann slid over towards Gertrude, then lay down next to the other woman whispering in her ear, “can we some how crouch down and jump him when he opens the doors”? Gertrude was about to make some kind of reply when their abductor knocked, yelling; “shut up back there, I can here you!” So they lay side by side in silence, at least drawing some small comfort from each others company.
So they drove on and on without any sight in the darkness or any sound except for occasional noises that the truck they were in made or other nearby cars around it made as they passed by on the highway or road, whatever they were on. They may have been in the back of the truck for two hours or twenty, as slowly as time seemed to be passing. Then it stopped, the doors suddenly opened, as Lou Ann's eye's focused getting used to the light again, she saw the other woman’s purple suit with its little black trim at the hem, then Gertrude's long thin legs with dimpled knees, the length and shape of which she might have envied under other circumstances, her narrow ankles and olive complected feet with their dark red toe nails, matching the polish on her finger nails. Nearby Gertrude’s feet lay the pointy toed purple pumps that were once on them. Whether seeing the tax lady bear foot motivated the masked mans next act, wasn’t clear but upon opening the doors, their abductor took a hold of Lou Anne’s ankles pulling her towards the opening. 0nce she was at a point he could encircle her legs with one arm, he did so, then proceeded to pull off her Mary Jane’s one by one letting them fall to the concrete floor, lowering the blond and leaving her standing in her stocking feet.
No sooner were they outside of the doors of the truck bed than the masked man shoved them down a narrow brick corridor towards another door way. Gertrude was sorry she had taken her shoes off inside the truck now and envied Lou Ann’s common sense, as well as her fashion sense having chosen to wear stockings that matched her dress. As they came upon the door way, the fiend let go of Lou Anne’s hair, taking a butter fly knife from his belt their assailant cut the leather strap binding the blonds’ wrists. No sooner were her wrists free though than the man quickly pulled Lou Anne’s coat off and shoved her up against the wall hard. In instant later Gertrude had the exact same experience; her wrists were set free and the jacket that went with here purple dress was quickly removed before she could react. Their gaoler shoved the IRS agent against the brick wall hard, and then he seemed to have taken the short blond in tow using her belt to turn her around. In her peripheral vision Gertrude watched as the masked man spun the blond lady around to face him, and then rapidly unhooked the belt that went with her dress threw it to the ground and literally stripped the woman’s dress off of her before she could even really react to what had happened. With the same rapidity the villain pushed the poor creature through, what was to be their cell door, leaving her in a white bra, underpants and white stockings that came up to her hips.
In an instant Gertrude’s zipper on the back of her dress was pulled down and her pretty purple dress vanished down off of her shoulders as quickly as Lou Ann’s had been pulled up over her head. Quick as a wink the olive skinned IRS agent found herself standing next to the nearly naked blond in the cell, as the door slammed shut behind them. 0nly, her dilemma was that she was more so than Lou Ann, as she had no breasts whatsoever to speak of, so never bothered with a bra not having a size other than perhaps a prepubesant girls training bra. The rapidity, with which their vile assailant stripped them, was evidence he had done this sort of things before and lots of time. Both women looked at each other for a long minuet then started balling. Their gaoler, without mercy, banged on the door commanding, “now you take off the rest yourselves”. As Gertrude looked at the short lady in her white nylons and under garments she realized how fat she really was. Lou Ann’s belly hung out between her bra and underpants forming the shape of a crescent moon with several rolls of fat hanging down on her sides. Likewise as the ladies sat in the tiny room the fiend used to imprison his reluctant house guests, facing one another in a position that Lou Ann could see almost every aspect of her cell mate from the wrinkled soles of her feet to the streak of silver hair running neatly down the middle of the other woman’s head to the back of her otherwise black hair, as they stared at one another she thought her companion actually looked emaciated.
Then suddenly a voice broke the silence, the kidnapper spoke to his victims through a speaker on the wall of the little white padded cell they shared, his voice masked, now by electronic equipment, told them ; “you don’t eat until ALL the clothes come off!” Moving over, then sitting themselves down on a day bed that needed clean bed clothes, one of two in the cell, they sat looking into each others faces. What was left of Gertrude’s make-up was pretty much all over her face in the form of streaks running down both checks and smudges around her eyes, though she was still crying and shaking she asked the blond facing her, “what are we going to do”, in a quiet, concerned voice. Lou Ann rolled her eyes, “saying I don’t know, obey the man”. To which the dark haired woman responded, “I’m too nervous to be hungry, so I don’t really care at this point”. To which the woman sitting opposite her gave answer; “I don’t think I could take food or drink under these circumstances but what will he do to us if we don’t comply”? “I don’t know, he’s mad,” Gertrude concluded. Shrugging the tiny woman nodded commenting, “that makes this tricky, as you never know what a lunatics likely to do under any circumstances. This is worse because we’re totally in his power. Gertrude, putting an arm around Lou Anne’s neck, told her, “I’ve never been so scared in my life” as the blond laid her head on the taller woman’s, they slid their bodies closer to one another.
Time passed differently in their tiny white cell, so neither prisoner knew the time of their confinement but, they knew they were hungry from their stomach’s growling and churning. Lou Ann holding her head in her hands asked Gertrude, “how’s this guy going to know when we’re willing to trade what’s left of our clothing for food?” The dark haired girl raised her head up off of the bunk responding, “I don’t know, maybe that’s a two way mirror like cops have or, something”. The hefty blond, holding her stomach queries; “would you trust the food”. Looking thoughtful, Gertrude sat up, putting her hands on her knees, commenting “I don’t see where we have a choice; we’ve probably been here for days”. “Days”, the blond squeaked out, thinking of her kids again. Gertrude too, whose family wasn’t far from her thoughts either, silently adds, “it seems like days, don’t it. Before the dialog could go any farther, the odd voice came over the speaker again saying; “I’ll know”. Both girls said simultaneously, “WHAT DO YOU WANT!”. The electronic voice came over the speaker again telling them; You know!” As Lou Ann started rolling her white nylon stockings down over her legs, Gertrude noticed they resembled ice crème cones, the way fat women’s legs always do, when they’re on the heavy side but not grossly obese. At the same time the tall woman took her necklace off commenting, “I hope he takes jewelry, this necklace, these ear rings, my ankle bracelet and underpants, cuz that’s all I got left". 0nce the women had stripped themselves completely, the modified voice came back over the loud speaker advising them to, “push the clothes through the dogie door at the bottom of the cell door, upon doing so they'd find food on the other side”.Gertrude took the pile produced by both women's clothes in her hands then knelt by the small opening at the bottom of the cell door on her knees and started pushing the material through the opening. After completing the task she felt around and discovered what seemed to be a metal tray, upon pulling it into the room the women discovered it did indeed contain food. This presented a new dilemma, in spite of their extreme hunger the girls looked down at the contents wondering whether or not they were safe to consume. Lou Ann was the first to speak, looking at he companion she chimed; “should we eat this stuff”? To which the other woman gave answer, saying: “we may as well, the serial killers on TV always kill their victims in really awful ways, I never saw on movie where the murder resorted to poisoning the food”. Although, she intended this to be some sort of jest, to break the tension of their long confinement and general terror of their present situation, upon looking back up at her companion she could see in her eyes the blond woman didn't take it that way. Then in a more serious tone of voice, looking directly at Lou Ann, Gertrude continued, “I don't see what else we can do, it's either eat it or starve. Besides, we traded what clothes we had left for this stuff so we may as well eat it”. Then she took a bite out of a sandwich herself, not quite sure whether it was instinct, daring or a feeble attempt to assure the blond the food was safe. Lou Ann shrugged then did likewise. Enjoying the moment, the girls were at least for the space of a few brief moments to forget their terrible circumstances.
0nce they had consumed their meal, Gertrude and Lou Ann became drowsy, which frightened them as each woman wondered whether their sleepiness wasn't caused by the fact that the food was drugged. Reluctantly, they lay down on the cot next to each other, drawing warmth from one another's bodies as well as the meager blanket their gaoler provided his prisoners. Lou Ann started weeping again saying; “do you think we'll ever see our kids again”? Gertrude putting an arm around Lou Ann's waste told her, “I hope so, I really do”. The blond continued complaining, “how long do you think it's been, since our abduction, I mean?”. Replying to her cellmates query the dark haired lady told her, “I really can't say, our gaoler hasn't saw fit to provide us with a calendar or a clock, so there's really know way of knowing”. Continuing in the same vain the hefty blond pondered; “I wonder whether our abduction was on the radio and in the newspapers?” Her raven haired companion responded telling her, “I imagine it was, he killed two people when he abducted us”. Turning her head a little, the smaller woman continued the conversation, “then you think our families know what happened to us?”. Gertrude, tells her; “I imagine they have some idea”. “Then, the cops are looking for us, Lou Ann says matter of factly, almost without thinking. Gertrude pulling herself closer to her bunkmate and holding her tighter tells her, “the FBI too I imagine, as it was a kidnapping and he may have taken us across state lines too”. “So, there are people looking for us”, the small woman says once more. Lots of them, I'm sure”, Gertrude responds. Lou Ann adds, “do you think they'll find us?” Gertrude says the only thing she can think to in their situation, “eventually, they'll find us, I guess”. Then, the blond crying harder, queries; “do you think they'll find us alive?” “I hope so honey, I hope so”; the lanky woman replies, adding I'm very tired, I don't know whether we've been a wake for hours or even days, lets at least try to get some sleep. Lou Ann tells Gertrude, I'd love to sleep but I don't know whether we'll ever wake up or whether he doped the grub on us!” Lou Ann, the olive complected lady says, it'll be alright, now go to sleep”.
Gertrude's eyes popped open suddenly, and despite her tender attempt to reassure her friend the food was ok, she was slightly surprised to be alive at this point, as she half believed their extreme drowsiness may have been caused by their food being drugged. The young lady understood at once, a body function had interrupted her slumbers, as she stumbled completely naked and half a sleep towards the toilet in the center of their cell, the raven haired lady had a random thought cross her mind, “cigarettes, how long had it been since she had one? What would their gaoler want in exchange for a pack of cigarettes? Did her cellmate even smoke, or if not would she object to her doing so in such a confined space?” Then catching her own train of though, Gertrude pondered how silly it was to think about smoking under their dire circumstances. Then, she glanced at Lou Ann's slumbering form, still sleeping on their bunk, blaming herself at least in some regard for the blond woman being in this mess, as if it hadn't been for the audit Lou Ann wouldn't have been in the IRS office when the maniac hit.
Lou Ann lay in that state between waking and sleeping, having felt her companion exit the bed. Hearing Gertrude lift the toilet seat she thought at least this guy's thoughtful enough to provide us with a way to relieve ourselves, he could have left us with nothing, expecting us to use a corner of the room like an animal. As a mother, her thoughts turned to her kids. She pondered what their fates may be if she wasn't rescued, would her parents take the kids, her ex husband? That wasn't a pleasant thought as he was a bit of a womanizer, which was why they parted and, the kids home life with their dad wouldn't be wholesome. In her sad state, the girl wondered whether it was her fault their marriage had broken down, her christianity or her weight gain. Perhaps, she tried so hard to be a good mother she had for gotten what was important about being a good wife, maybe she'd driven him to drink and to the bar flies or perhaps he was just a rats @55 who was morally bankrupt.
As Gertrude got up from the potty, as she started to go, she heard a small sound, like the coo of a dove, realizing it was emanating from her companion she said Lou Ann, ever so softly, are you quite awake. The stirring form on the bed spoke responding, I am now, been in that state between waking and sleeping since you left the bed but am now quite awake and would rather converse than be alone with my own thoughts which seem to go from bad to worse. The other woman getting up from her seat, walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. As she reclined and,back under the covers, Gertrude quizzed Lou Ann, "Smoking, do you do it?" "I used to, the chubby blond replied, gave it up when I was pregnant with my last kid, maybe that's why I got fat. If we get out of this mess alive, I might take it up again". Gertrude, turning her head towards, her companion, who now lay on her back staring in her direction, asked; "You think the guy would give us cigarettes?" The blond half shook her head then asking, "you serious, look what it took for us to get food from this dude".
Then, the odd electronic voice interrupted the womens conversation, letting them know they were being monitored at all times; "cigarettes can certainly be managed, my dears, if you'd like". Lou Ann spoke first, asking the fiend, "what would you want for'em?" Their abductor answered, "that depends, what are you willing to give in exchange?" Gertrude, queried their captor, "is everything turns with you". Every thing's give and take, with me if that's what you mean". Gertrude chimed in exclaiming, “we've given you everything we've got, there's nothing left to give”. The man responded over the microphone, “there's always more you can give and more I can take”. “What do we have you want Lou Ann interjected”? Their harasser came back with; “ would you masturbate for cigarettes?” The womens mouthes dropped open as they looked at each other wide eyed in amazement”. Speaking somewhat simultaneously they said together, “You want us to what!” The modified voice replied via the speaker on the wall once more; “will you finger yourselves for cigarettes”? Lou Ann blushing, screamed; “No, I'm not doing that”.
Sometime having passed in their confined space the women's bellies began to rumble again. Lou Ann spoke first, “how long has it been since we ate?” Answering her Gertrude replies, no way to tell, we got no clock or no calendar”.”I'm hungry again”, the blond complained, “I suppose it's my own fault for being fat”. The other woman replied, “I doubt it, I'm hungry too and, I'm certainly not fat”. “What are we going to do”? The blond said in a pleading voice, “when is he going to feed us”? The raven haired woman, shrugged saying; “you know, when we do what he wants”. Tears started running down the blonds checks as she thought about playing with herself. Quietly she quizzed her companion, “do you ever do it”. The olive complected lady responded in a whisper, “as a matter of fact I do on occasion, with a vibe rater usually instead of my finger”. “Listen, Lou Ann” Gertrude told her, “lay down on you back”. Rolling her blue eyes Lou Ann followed instructions, asking; “will you put your arm around me”? Sure, Gertrude, assures her, “I'll be right next to you, doing exactly what you're doing”. Lou Ann query's, how do we know he's even there, what if we do it for nothing and he doesn't even give us food?” The speaker on the wall cracked, as the strange voice came over it again, “you'll know that, if you find food outside the cell door after your fat finger goes up inside your box Blondie”.
Lou Ann felt her body quake as she started probing her privates. Gertrude watched the woman laying next to her before she started the same enforced unpleasant exercise. Lou Ann felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead as she plunged her pointer finger in her privates. She could feel her nipples getting erect too, as she probed herself, more from terror than pleasure she thought, as this was humiliating not pleasurable. While feeling her clitoris Gertrude hated and enjoyed the experience at the same time. She hated that they were being put in such a degrading position to amuse a mad man but, as she was almost certain they weren't going to get out of this mess alive she wanted to have an orgasm one more time before she died.
Upon completing the assignment, Lou Ann got to her feet, stumbled towards the cell door, knelt down and started feeling for the food tray left outside for them. Finding it, she pulled it through the small opening, then standing brought the tray to the bed where Gertrude sit cross legged. Both women began eating, only to get tired quickly after consuming their meal as before, then lay down beside each other to go to sleep, the taller woman putting an arm around the short womans waste as had become a custom the shared over the days, weeks, of their entrapment, as they didn't know how long it had been.
Upon awaking, they realized something was different, they were no longer in the white, padded cell nor in the same bed they'd been in upon going to sleep. Soon they realized they were bound around their wrists and ankles and were in long narrow boxes, like coffins. Both women started screaming. As their vision came into focus, Gertrude realized a bald headed guy who needed dental work was looking at them. Your him, she cried; “the one who took us”! Yes, responded the guy. “You, you're a monster”. “0h my dear”, he retorted, that's good, you work for the Federal Government, as an IRS agent, and you call me a monster”. I take a few women here and there for pleasure and profit, the United States of America enslaves everypoor soul unfortunate enough to be born on it's soil and torments them day in and day out for as long as they live and you call me a monster”. Lou Ann, interjects, “I don't work for the government, I never harmed you in any way”. That's true, he looked thoughtfully, but you play the GAME that keeps the whole machine of state running so you're not blameless either. Gertrude said; “please, we're mothers with small children....” Without concern their abductor interrupted, “your kids are orphans, you're going to Timbuktu in Africa, to the man to whom you've been sold to live the rest of your lives as slaves, that you may know how I feel every day I have to live in this stinking country”.
FINS
The Niggers by Numbers Killer
By Mr. J. Grimes
Soon after the election of the 44th President of the United States of America a series of secret messages were sent between FBI headquarters in a tri-state area, started be agent Caleb Leduc of the bureaus Metairie headquarters regarding a case he was working, that dealt with a racist serial killer who is targeting persons of colour, perceived by the perpetrator to hold authority over whites. Due to the sensitive time the murders began occurring in relation to the national election of America’s first black President it was decided by his superior, Special Agent Abraham Goldmann, to keep the press out of the loop as under no circumstances were the public to know about the bizarre killings. A wise ass named Agent Rod 0rgel out of the Dallas FBI office, where the second slaying took place dubbed the unknown murderer “the niggers by number killer” as at the site of the first killing in Metairie and the second in Dallas, had written in the victim’s blood were the words, “ #1 DEAD NIGGER” two dead niggers and, so on. As with London’s ripper of the 1880’s each slaying was becoming more grotesque as the killer grew bolder, angrier or more intent as he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted from the press. FBI profiler, Gomez Hafez stated, it was his belief the killer was trying to incite Caucasians who perceive the United States 0f America as their ethnic homeland to react to the election of an African-American with violence that right wing agitators could use to their advantage.
A telegram from Special Agent Leduc sent to field agent Leonard Nelson, who was evaluating the case of the presumed third victim of the same man.
·
Per’s 1st vic, a black police officer in Metairie, shot in the head while working his beat(stop) Due to the high risk nature of police work in neighborhoods in transition this wouldn’t have seemed unusual in itself if the shooter hadn’t written in the officers blood on a wooden fence the corpse was propped against, “#1 DEAD NIGGER”(stop) The 2nd vic was social worker from the city of Dallas who was found 90 days after the murdered Louisiana police officer’s body was discovered(stop) It might have been mistaken for a sex crime, as she had been stripped naked and a broom handle inserted in the dead woman’s privates, then used to kill her, having pressure applied to it until it ruptured her stomach but, the same message with the #2 Dead Niggers, was found written in the lady in questions blood on the brick wall of a dilapidated building her corpse was discovered in (stop) A third corpse found yesterday,this time disemboweled in Santa Fe, after another 90 day period with the same slogan and the #3 scrawled near the corpse in the dead man’s blood once more proves the killer has easy access to at least a tri-state area and, the fact that the latest victim was a city councilman lets us know for certain with every progressive slaying he’s going after bigger and bigger game thereby letting us know he’s raising the stake every time he strikes(stop)
· Special Agent Hafez sent Goldmann a memo saying given the perpetrators skills in stealth and evasion we may be looking for someone with a police or military background. Check military
The Niggers by Numbers Killer
continuation
bases and police precincts near where the murders occurred, if any, query contacts about any personal known to be openly racist or suspected of secretly holding abnormal or subversive views regarding the race question or the Presidents election.
If the killer or killers are part of a racist group or Para-military political faction with a group agenda, sooner or later they will contact the media to state their demands and state their reason for their actions. If it is a lone serial killer, as seems most likely with the evidence at hand at present, he will be likely to tease police and press personnel as the London ripper of the 1880’s did.
The memo sent to all officers working the case agent Nelson working out of the Santa Fe FBI office phones his colleague Leduc in Louisiana to deduce whether anything more pertinent information had been uncovered by the profiler.
·
Leduc. Yes, I got it too.
Nelson What do you make of it.
Leduc 0ur boys crafty, a crafty one indeed, not much to work up yet.
Nelson I see.
Leduc Until he slips all we can do is build a general profile.
Nelson He will though, slip I mean.
Leduc Sooner or later they all do.
Nelson They’re all narcissists.
Leduc Well megalomaniacs’, who want to get caught anyway. No matter
The killers m.o., they all want attention either from us or the
media and they’ll keep going until they get it one way or another.
I remember once working out of the New 0rleans field office
where a perp who seemingly started out harmlessly enough
stealing ladies panties graduated from panty raids to murder in
less than a month and before we realized what we were really
up against three innocent women had had their throats cut. So…
But I digress and am getting off subject now. Suffice it to say
on this case it seems we face an opponent who is cunning and
has some skills in stealth and evasion a civilian probably
wouldn’t. These facts led the profiler to believe we may be
looking for someone who is either at present a police officer or
active duty military personal. That’s all I got for you right now.
The Niggers by Numbers Killer
continuation
At the same time the conversation was taking place between the two FBI agents, there follow law enforcement officers from the city police department have been summoned to the office of The Santa Fe New Mexican because of a queer letter the editor, a chap named Arnold received via the US postal service earlier that morning. Two detectives Rodriguez and Jennings responded. Made out of words and letters clipped from various newsprint sources, reading….
“Regarding the killing of Councilman Brazel. There will be more niggers
who pretend to have authority over Aryan Americans who will die until
the news get out and the public know what they need to know. Killing
these coons is sending a message to gage the masses reaction”.
Following standard police procedure the Santa Fe city dicks bagged the letter to take it to forensic boys hoping it would lend some evidence as to the suspect’s identity. Almost on cue, the killer had started to break through the FBI’s cloak of secrecy. But the chief of D’s had been informed that a serial killer may be working the area and the FBI should be informed first to develope a strategy by which the general public could be told about these murders without causing undue panic and alarm. 0f course the feds had no intention of ever releasing the information to the general public as they knew it was a reactionary move to the election of America’s first President of colour. They also understood that the killers desire was very probably to make Caucasians’ think they were a dispossessed majority hoping they would react to his violence with more violence ever escalating to the point where race riots would be transformed into revolutionary action that threatened to destroy civic order itself.
Agent Leduc received an e-mail from Special Agent 0rgel…..
· Remember the perpetrators of Charles Manson’s Helter Skelter murders
hoped by killing Sharon Tate and the Labionca’s they could start a race war.
They also assumed that as the white people were naturally superior to African-Americans
after the race war was fought to a successful conclusion they’d be the ones calling the shots.
Special Agent Leduc sat at his computer, thinking momentarily before responding to 0rgel’s e-mail as it had been quite a while since Charlie Manson crossed his mind….
· Didn’t the killers plant the victims wallets in a poor neighborhood in Los Angeles in transition, predominantly black, hoping coloured people would use the credit cards only to be wrongfully blamed for the brutal deaths.
0rgel…..
The Niggers by Numbers Killer
continuation
· It was theorized that, that was the killer’s intention. Some of the suspects said as much, though Manson would never admit to any wrong doing personally.
Leduc….
· It’s almost certain the killer (killers) we’re dealing with now has similar hopes as those the Manson Family harboured.
0rgel…..
· Do you think we’re dealing with a group or an individual in this case?
Leduc….
· A general consensus from higher headquarters at present seems to be it’s probably a lone nut targeting individuals perceived by him to be a threat to either national security, the survival of the white race on the North American continent or both.
0rgel…..
· Then your superiors do believe he’ll strike again?
Agent Leduc didn’t have long to wait for the answer to this question. He found a fax from his superior Goldmann waiting on his desk at the end of the 90 day period informing the agents who were working what the FBI was unofficially quietly calling “the niggers by numbers killings” by now, that there man had struck again. The wording was chilling and read….
· This time he had killed a small child in a most grotesque fashion imaginable. The eight year old son of a district court judge was discovered dead outside the door of a soup kitchen housed in a coloured church in a neighborhood in transition. The child’s back had been broken and his arms and legs folded behind him like a gruesome Thanksgiving turkey of some sort. This time the press beat the FBI to the crime scene and damage control had to work fast to put a political correct spin on the situation prior to the real facts reached the general public.
Two men sat in comfortable chairs at an upscale gentleman’s club in New 0rleans, a newspaper with a story about the American President lay folded on a table between them. The older chap about 60 with a bald head and glasses glares down at the newspaper with a disgusted look on his face speaking to the younger man opposite him who was about 40 with platinum blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Looking at the picture he said, “Terrible times to be an American citizen ehh, that we’ve sank to this”. The younger of the pair said; “0h I don’t know, times are changing, we’ve got to adapt you know”. A look of astonishment on his face the elderly bloke exclaims,” your family has a long standing tradition of supporting conservative Republicanism, your father my old friend, campaigned for Ronald Reagan and as young men we both turned out for Nixon”. The tall blond, with a most unusual look on his face says, “Times are changing, I for one hope the President will visit New 0rleans, I’d like to meet him face to face and face and maybe have the opportunity to find out what he’s really about.
FINS!
* * *
The Children of Hell 3/14/09
by Mr. J. Grimes
Nine year old Harry sat on the edge of his bed looking at the blank screen of the TV set after his mother left the room. He was feeling drowsy and his brain was a tad fuzzy, he remembered his mother coming and talking to him after he came home from school. Then it seemed she made a funny counter-clockwise motion in front of the childs face before leaving. The little boy couldn’t remember what they’d talked about even though she had only left moments ago. He realized why, he must be dreaming, it seemed the far right hand corner of his bedchamber was glowing. The wall started separating, the light become more intense and something came though the opening in the wall. It looked like a dwarf but it’s face was inhuman and evil looking. Then Harry remembered, this wasn’t a dream, this was what always happened to him after his mum made the strange counter-clockwise sign in front of his face. It was one of the crab-walking gnomes that always carried him to hell after his mum left the room. This was real! Harry tried screaming but it was no use his vocal cords seemed frozen. Maybe it was fear, as every time the crab-walking gnomes came through the wall they did terrible things.
Harry wasn’t exactly sure what the gnomes did but he knew their world was a strange and terrible place and every time they came they hurt him. But, he wasn’t sure how they hurt him or even how he knew this stuff. Then the sky was deep purple and the crab-walking gnome had a firm grip on Harry’s hand pulling him deeper into their dimension with it’s purple sky and orange ground. He was being pulled into a grotto of some sort that was strange yet, familiar, even though the kid had no conscious memory of ever having been in this place before. Looking around, Harry saw wooden women, who reminded him of the puppets in the Rankin/Bass specials that were on TV ever holiday but, these weren’t puppets moving by animagic. They were wooden women moving independently; yet seemed to be human sized puppets of some sort, except they had very human looking eye’s.
As Harry watched the puppet people, he realized they were approaching another child who looked like he might be a little younger than himself, about seven years old. 0nce the manikin ladies surrounded the little boy they began taking off his clothes. Harry was so absorbed by watching these inhuman woman strip the young child he never realized that his own shorts were now around his ankles. Not until the gnome who was now centred behind him jammed his tool up Harry’s *******. Then with a burst of pain and a yelp the child lunged forward. The Boy felt as though he was being split down the middle like a log and there was terrible presure on his stomach and chest as the crab-walking fiend thrust it’s **** in the small boys butt deeper and deeper time after time. Then the pain became so intense the child went into a swoon.
The boy’s eyes began fluttering then they opened completely. He was reclined on a semi-hard surface of some sort and his mother was looking down at him. Harry originally believed it had all been a horrible nightmare about inter-dimensional gnomes from a world with orange earth and a purple sky coming to get him. He must have been screaming in his sleep and caught his mothers attention again as he often did when he had bad dreams then he realized something wasn’t quite right. The woman looked like Harry’s mum alright but, something wasn’t right with this lady. Harry’s mom
- 1 -
The Children 0f Hell
continuation 3/14/09
always wore house dresses and kept her hair in a French curl, this lady’s hair was disheveled and she was naked. In fact now that he thought about it he didn’t know whether this was Harry’s mum or not, Harry was another little boy living in a Beaver Cleaver world with picket fences and little pink houses. He didn’t live in that world he was a child of hell, the devils hopyard was his play ground and, he was the devils toy.
The wild looking blond woman with the disheveled hair was rubbing something that felt like oil on his chest, telling him to beat off as she started tracing a finger nail around the boys little, light pink nipple. She hunkered down by the little boys ear whispering, “PLEASURE AND PAIN”. Then she ran her fingers over the little boys nipples and said, “beat yourself off”. Stiff and sore the boys didn’t obey, in fact the woman’s voice seemed so distant and far away he wasn’t sure she was talking to him. Then he looked up into the human eyes of one of those inhuman puppet woman, slowly he came to his senses enough to realize the puppet woman had his tiny **** in her hand and was making jerking motions, like you do when jacking off. The a skewed blond who was fingering his nipples was whispering “Pleasure & Pain over and over as his nipples started feeling itchy and his willy stiffened and stood up erect. Then there were blue lights and a deep black and total blankness as the world faded into oblivion.
Upon awakening the child was seated on a three legged stool in a room with brick walls and a woman with horned rimmed glasses and a business suit sitting at a desk. As she put a piece of paper in a typewriter the woman said; Your name is?.... The kid was about to say Harry, then realized as Harry was a boys name, she couldn’t be Harry as she was dressed in girls clothes. Then the woman said, “your name child? It’s Chloe, isn’t it?” Yes, I’m Chloe, the little child on the stool said. She knew she was Chloe as she was wearing the same pink dress Chloe always wore. . Behind the woman’s desk hung a red white and black German flag and a photo of the guy with the mustache she knew was the Chancellor. Where do you live Chloe, the woman asked? Hesitantly, the little girl said Germany, as she really didn’t think that was right. But, she must be in Germany as there was a German flag and a picture of the Chancellor of that country on the wall. Correct the woman said.
Do you know why you’re here Chloe, ask the adult. Is it about school, the girl quizzingly says? No, the lady replies, continuing, it’s about this slashing and stabbing business you’re into. Chloe’s shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes. Stuttering Chloe stammered, it’s about the cats isn’t it. She remembered something about slicing up cats and laughing as they died but by the same token didn’t think any adults knew about it. Chloe likes to cut and stab only she thought that was on the inner world in here mind where no adults ever go. Now somehow her private world of angels and devils had been invaded by adults and all the little animals she’d made dead were no longer fantasy toys but flesh and blood. Looking at the floor, thinking the ####’s about to hit the fan, she closed her eyes. Then the lady continues. We think you should graduate Chloe. The door, opens and a man in a lab coat brings in a small boy about seven years old. At which point the woman gets up from her desk and hand the girl a straight razor, commanding ;”you know what to do, KILL HIM CHLOE!”
to be continued....
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The Children 0f Hell
Continuation 3/15/09
The little girl remembered cutting into a boys flesh and smiling as she listened to him scream and cry. As she recovered her wits, strange images of a dying child filled her mind and she wonderer whether she had actually killed a real person or just another living toy? No she hadn’t that was another child. A wretched little bitch named Chloe who lived in a big black house on the wrong side of the tracks. Suddenly she realized she couldn’t move, as she came to her senses, opening her eyes she saw that she was strapped to a table and two men dressed in lab coats, like doctors, were looking down at her. 0ne bloke said, we have a new personality, the eyes changed colour again. Then one man bent down by her left ear while the other chap took up his post by the child’s right ear. The white coated man on her left side began whispering, “you’re a slut, you maggot, you are a piece of filth, you’d **** anybody you dirty little whore”. At the same time the person on the child’s right said, “You’re a good person, you love God and Jesus Christ, you would never think of doing anything wrong, you’ve never had a bad thought”.
The child realized some device was attached to her head as she tried to turn around or raise her head to see more of the room she was in. She found the most she could do was raise her head enough to look before herself. She saw a woman she thought she had a memory of, with light brown hair and horned rimmed glasses. A thought flashed through her head, this was the woman who was with Chloe in the brick room but it can’t be as the crooked-cross flag of the German nation-state was nowhere to be seen. That wicked witch only stayed in the German room to teach Chloe bad things. But, as this thought formed in the child’s mind, the lady in the pin striped skirt suit turned a knob on the machine and the girl felt electric coming through her skull, out to her limbs, lifting her body off of the table. She would have screamed but, the doctors had put something in her mouth so she couldn’t move it.
The man on her left said, “bad things happen to bad girls, you slut, you’re the scum of the earth, you’re not even worth killing”. The man on the other side of the table said; “Don’t listen to him he’s your Evil Genius, I am your Good Demon I always tell you the truth. You’re a bright boy, an intelligent boy, a wonderful boy”. After the voices spoke a second jolt lifted the child off of the table. A wispy shadow man said “increase the voltage next time. The woman nodded in the general direction of the disembodied voice and sent a third shock into the brain of the small body laying helpless on the table. The Evil Genius began spewing out more hatful ramblings, “You’re a filthy little ****, you dirty bleeding hole, child of the devil, dogs chase bitches in heat and, that’s all you are you gutter rat”. At the same moment, the Good Demon whispered words of comfort and hope in the child’s other ear, “Don’t listen to your Evil Genius, all pain and suffering is of the devil and his beasts. God will send angels to take the pain away”. But, this wasn’t the case as the lady turned the knob again and as waives of agony surged over the kids body everything went dark again.
0nce more the boy regained consciousness to find that he was in a dark, wet place; it felt
-3-
The Children 0f Hell
Conclusion 3/15/09
like a big rubber bag and was filled with water or some kind of liquid. There was just barely enough room for the boy to move inside the cocoon and, some kind of tube or hose was attached to his nose and mouth to prevent him from suffocating. He was in pitch darkness, in some sort of bag, that seemed to be made of rubber, filled with some sort of fluid and suspended in the air as there was a slow swinging motion as he tried to shift his body. As he tried to mill over where he could be and reason who or what he was, someone started hitting the bag hard with a blunt object, like a board. He couldn’t be sure of what it was as he was on the inside and whoever, or whatever was hitting his container was on the outside, in another dimension. Suddenly, the bag burst open and the child who had been contained therein spilled out onto the floor with whatever the other contents of the bag had been. He heard footsteps, running away fast, then saw a brief flash of light, like a door opening and closing quickly. Then nothing again, only dead silence and pitch black, like midnight black.
The boy realized he was alone; he was naked, cold and wet. He also knew he was in a strange place, in total darkness. But, he didn’t know who he was or how he came to be where he was and he certainly had no idea what place he was in now. He had some vague memory of a world with orange earth and a deep purple sky inhabited by manikins and crab-walking gnomes who sodomized bad boys and rammed sticks in wicked little girls pee holes until they died. Was he dead? Was this the grave? He didn’t think so. The little boy stated feeling around. He found a wall and followed it to the steps. He didn’t know where the steps might lead but, he thought anything’s better than this dank, cold, darkness. Slowly, with some fear and caution the boy climbed the stairs. At the top of the stairs he felt a door and finding a knob began turning it. His little heart beat so fast because he had no idea what hell lay on the other side of it. The door creaked as he opened it ever so slowly, the creaking sent chills down his spine, as his mind filled with images of evil doctors and German spies. But to his surprise, he saw a pretty brunet lady in a light blue dress and a heavy set, balding man, sitting at a dinner table. He was taken back a bit, the man looked at him and motioned for him to come into the light, then he looked at his wife saying, “0h look Emily, it’s our son Billy, he’s finally found his way home at last”.
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