Darbie Doll of the Covetous Electral-love Cajolery

Commercial Carnival of Cadavers

Life in the capitalist society is oppressive and burdensome to the point of exhaustion. When we are young, we tend to take this in stride, as it slowly strips away all enthusiasm and ambition, which lays the path to routine and boredom, that in turns drives us to the swine swilled manure scribed brainwashed pretentious programed  commercialised entertainment. Programming that is  suppose to pacify the brainwashed to think they are being good and following the program. This further increases the need to remain in your comfort zone and not venture off too far from the program. Meaning they will control you subliminally where you go even when you leave your house, thus guides you to controlled areas allowed by the programming. Where are these places? Mallwort, Stuperstores, Restaurants, bars, liquor stores, beer stores, and friendly neighborhood dealers. Generally, you will visit friend’s homes, or they will visit your home, but eventually these alcoholic and drug fuelled endeavors will give way to just staying home to be brain honed by a wide variety of programming brought to you by, your friendly regional cable provider, or internet and phone provider. Oh yes, places like SpewTube have become commercial runnels and have the “stamp” of pecuniary approval. Why? Because people and businesses, large and small, on these alternative, self publishing media streams are taking advantage of the residuals and are gladly dipping into the “Commercial Poisoned Well”. Where does this all lead? Destruction of the family unit. As this arduous life takes it toll, the family counterparts are being divided slowly and subliminally. In the days before easily accessible entertainment, for a price, was available in you living room, the community had it’s own entertainment, possibly in a community hall where all were welcome to unite and mingle. Seemingly, this was less destructive to the family unit and families tended to stick together more because the family bond was, in most cases, strong and free of commercial brainwashing. As communities were annexed by commercial conglomeration, people started to compete with their neighbors in a covetous manner, proving the biblical philosophical warnings. This in turn isolates the families of the commercially annexed community. This also increases abuse within the home to the point of separation whereby nothing appears sacred anymore, just an inconvenience.

Chameleons of Perfidy, Eradication of an Angel

Kalie, who is 9 years of age, lived in a small suburban home in a seemingly everyday neighborhood. There were many children in the neighborhood that Kalie loved to play with and the group was inseparable. Because Kalie’s house had cable TV which was rare at the time, most of the children flocked to her house to watch different programs targeted to children. Her mother and father never minded this interaction because it kept Kalie and her sibling happy being the center of attraction. As time went on, Kalie’s father and mother were arguing more and more. Being young, she was not really sure what the arguing was about, but nevertheless, was upset by this turmoil and found solace with her group of friends. Kalie did notice that her father was intoxicated most of the time returning home from work. This seemed to coincide with the increased escalating arguments that were mostly coming from the her parents bedroom. Kalie was deeply bothered by the arguing and at this time adored both her mother and father. As the arguments escalated, the father and mother both decided it would be better that the father slept in the lower half of the home whereby the mother could lock the door to the main home at night, thus opening the door during daylight hrs allowing the father to access the house during that time. Kalie, who slept in a room in the main home area with her sibling, was confused from the arrangement but did notice that the arguing became less frequent. With that however, the father seemed more aloof, remaining more and more in the lower half of the home becoming intoxicated for longer periods of time. One afternoon, Kalie’s mother was cooking supper. At the same time, Kalie’s father came up and into the kitchen. The father attempted to hug Kalie’s mother but the mother retaliated and pushed him away. He again attempted to hug Kalie’s mother only to further infuriate Kalie’s mother. “Please, Hamill, you are drunk. Leave me alone, please!” said Kalie’s mother pushing Hamill away. “Please forgive me Sheela, I am so lonely. Please let me hold you just for a minute.” said Hamill in a desperate tone as he attempted to hug Sheela again. “Do not touch me again or I will call the police!” said Sheela as she pushed Hamill away then moving towards the phone. “Please, Sheela, I love you. We have not been together in months. Please!” said Hamill now sounding more desperate. Sheela picked up the phone and started to dial 911. “Ok, ok, I will leave.” said Hamill as he left the kitchen and stumbled away towards his designated area of the home. Sheela, seeing that Hamill was leaving, hung up the phone and continued cooking supper.

During the next couple of weeks, despite the constant rejections and arguments Hamill received from Sheela, Kalie was visiting her father frequently in the lower level of the home and was enjoying the praise she received from keeping him company. He would buy Kalie different toys and jewelry suitable for a young girl. One of the last things he bought her was a collectable doll in a red bathing suit, encased in a collectable packaging. “Now, Kalie, I think you are a special girl and this doll represents you as I see you. You should always keep this doll in the case and keep it in your room. It will be worth a lot of money when you are older. That way you can always remember your father in a good way.” said Kalie’s father as they both sat on his bed in the lower part of the home. The next couple of days, the arguing started to escalate again. Kalie found her father later in his room in the lower level. He appeared to be in good spirits despite the arguing. “Kalie, my sweetheart. I bought you another present.” said Hamill as he handed Kalie a, wrapped in red paper, package. Kalie excitedly opened the package. It was a red bathing suit, similar to the one on the collectible doll he bought her, and some red lipstick. “Thank you Daddy!” said Kalie looking excited. “Now Kalie, you have to leave this down here. We will put it in this drawer. When you come to visit again, you can try it on!” said Hamill as he placed the red bathing suit and the lipstick in his bottom drawer. “Ok Daddy.” said Kalie, not really understanding why she had to hide he present in the drawer. The next morning, Sheela was cleaning up in the lower area while Hamill was at work. She folded some of his clothes that were strewn about and was placing them in different drawers. Opening the lower drawer, she noticed the small red bathing suit and the unopened red lipstick. Having a look of suspicion, she merely left the objects there and closed the drawer.

Later that evening, Hamill came home late, and was intoxicated as usual. He went up to the kitchen where he seen Sheela left him a plate of food. Kalie and her friends were watching TV, and Sheela was sitting in another chair knitting in the living room. After Hamill ate his supper, he went to Sheela and tried to hug her while she was sitting. She pushed him away harshly and got up quickly. “I am warning you Hamill, go to your room or I will call the police!” said Sheela with a serious look. Hamill reluctantly stumbled out of the living room with all Kalie’s friends watching. As he finally reached the door to go to the lower part of the house, Kalie and her friends resumed watching TV. About 8:00 pm, Kalie walked towards the doorway to go to her father’s room and say good night. Sheela who was in the kitchen cleaning up watched her go downstairs. Immediately, Sheela went to the doorway and closed the door gently and locked it secure, then went to the living room to resume her knitting. Down in Hamill’s bedroom, Kalie seen her father was sitting on his bed. She approached him and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight Daddy.” said Kalie as she turned to walk out the room. Hamill grabbed her arm lightly but abruptly. “Don’t leave just yet. Why don.t you try on your present?” said Hamill as he got up and opened the bottom drawer. He picked up the red bathing suit and handed it to Kalie. “I have to go to bed Daddy.” said Kalie worried about getting scolded by her mother. “Don’t worry. It will only take a few minutes. Now go into the bathroom and change.” said Hamill as he handed the red bathing suit to her once again.  “Ok Daddy.” said Kalie a bit nervous, taking the red bathing suit then walking into the bathroom, closing the door. A few moments later, Kalie walked out of the bathroom in the red bathing suit that fit snuggly around her immature body. “It feels too tight Daddy.” said Kalie.  “That is how it should fit, don’t worry honey. you look beautiful.” said Hamill as he opened the lipstick. “Now come here and I will put some of this on your lips. You are a young lady now and need some lipstick.” said Hamill as Kalie slowly walked towards him. Hamill sat her on the bed and caked on the lipstick to her small lips, over applying to make her seem more mature. “Now, go look in the mirror.” said Hamill closing the lipstick and placing it on the bed. Kalie walked towards the mirror and looked at herself, not really understanding what was happening. “You see Kalie, when you come down here, you can dress like your doll and we can play.” said Hamill as he sat on the bed again. Still looking in the mirror, Kalie got scarred and ran up to the door leading to the upper level only to find the door closed and locked. She pounded on the door and screamed. “Mommy, please open the door please.” Not hearing anyone approach, she pounded again. Meanwhile, Sheela remained seated in the living room and continued to knit, ignoring Kalie’s pleads to open the door. Still pounding, Hamill gently grabbed her hands and led her back to the lower level. “Don’t worry Kalie. I will protect you. Come with me. You will be safe.” said Hamill in a gentle tone as he led her back to his room and closed the door.

The next morning, seeing her father was gone to work, she got up and took off her bathing suit, washed up, and redressed in her clothes that were on the floor in the bathroom. She carefully placed the red bathing suit, now neatly folded and the lipstick, into the bottom drawer. Being late for school she ran upstairs through the now opened door, changed, and ran off to school, not talking to her mother at all. She continued to visit her father in his room and the sexual abuse continued. She finally decided that because her mother did not want to pay attention to her father, that is was her place now to play the role of her mother and keep her father happy seeing when she did go down to his room after a certain time, her mother would lock the door ensuring Kalie could not leave and remain with her father. Kalie was slowly, but surely understanding, and after Kalie started to realise what she was doing was wrong, she started to not visit her father as much. He would plead to her on occasion and she would give in to his request. She felt ashamed but loved her father. As far as her mother was concerned, Kalie was developing a great hatred for her and would only interact with Sheela when it was absolutely necessary. Kalie knew her mother was aware of what was happening to her when she was down in her father’s room, and could not understand why her mother never objected or tried to protect her. Losing her childhood innocence to a purposely locked door, Kalie was maturing fast mentally. After the last time she visited her father overnight, she  avoided being seen by her father for about 4 weeks. One morning, about the time after Hamill usually went to work, Kalie and her sibling were awaken from screams from her mother echoing from the lower level of the house. Quickly, Kalie and her sibling ran down the stairs and went into Hamill’s room where her mother was standing in shock. Swinging from a rope tied to a ceiling rafter, was Hamill’s lifeless body with a noose around his neck . Kalie and her sibling sobbed uncontrollably.

Kalie never truly got over the fact that her father killed himself and absorbed all the blame. She carried this guilt into her adulthood and never could come to terms with these episodes when she was victimised. She began a pattern similar to her father’s alcoholism. Although she managed to put herself through college and was successful, she could never come to terms with her mother’s neglect and despised her mother until her death.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Propagandise Proprieties Temples of Foreordination

Community DisMemberMent

Nestled in the heart of a residential community, where once, not so long ago, stood a temple where the community consecrated their wealth for safe keeping so all could feel secure that their spoils of labor was safe and secure. Slowly but surely, when faith was replaced by greed and opulence, banks and banking institutions replaced the temples and started to charge interest for loans to people in exchange for interest paid for the use of the community’s money that was kept for safe keeping in these banks that once were community temples. Slowly but surely these banks monopolized the community’s wealth and charge them fees to keep the community’s money safe. They still paid fair interest for this use but only to the wealthy, to whom, they would pay prime interest. For the rest of the community, they would pay a very small interest, if anything at all. And if they paid better interest, the average community member would have to lock away their money for long periods of time and would charge that community’s average member large penalties for the access of their money. The government would also follow suit and tax the withdrawn money’s portion of interest as income. After the locked down term of their money (maturity), and if the community’s average member did not need to withdraw this money, they would successfully gain an interest generated portion of this money which in the end would not seem worth the amount of time the money had to be locked down. Not to mention, the government taking their cut deeming this small amount of generated interest as income. In the mean time, the bank got to use the community’s member’s money for 1 to 2 to 5 to 10 to 20 years depending on the term, and the bank generated 10 times the amount of money they gave the community’s member as earned interest.

 Commandeer Accrual, and The Comptrollers of Defalcation

With these large gains the banks generated from the community’s members, they formed a mini-Monarchy for the rich and opulent to prosper, and slavery for the community’s average members to squalor. As time went on, the rich of the community joined the 1 percent and served as mini-Monarchs to provide vast wealth to the 1 percent all at the expense of the community’s average, now poor members. As the mini-Monarchs prospered at the benevolence of the 1 percenters, the average, now poor community members started to live solely off credit because the mini-Monarchs and the 1 percenters successfully stole all the community’s average, now poor member’s money and prosperity, that at one time was measured by the commodity, but now measured by owed interest, that deflates the worth of the community’s commodities when sold, and inflated the value of the commodities when sold back to the community’s average, now poorer members. Now, vast loans are required to prosper enough to pay back the interest owed by the community’s average, now poor and oppressed members, just scraping by from pay check to paycheck. Instead of banks, the mini-Monarchs and the opulent 1 percenters created money stores to further reach into the community’s average, now very poor and very oppressed member’s pockets to make sure 90 to 100 percent of the community’s average, now enslaved member’s borrowed prosperity is re-circulated back to the mini-monarchs and 1 percenters.

Assimilated Pervaded Anonymous

If you cannot see what is happened to your community, it is because we all have been conditioned (brainwashed) to accept this as standard living. Money stores have existed for decades, and as time goes on from generation to generation, the 1 percent and their mini-Monarchs hope that no one will remember how it was and how it came to be, such as it is now, a rich and opulent society dominating the masses, forgetting our rights as community members because we have been conned out of our prosperity for 3 generations. If you are young, then you would except “credit” as a staple of existence and would certainly not be able to dream of existing with out credit. That is a sad thing because it has been embroidered into our everyday life as if it was “the gospel according to capitalism”. The 1 percent and mini-Monarchs will continue to destroy the church and anyone with  faith by disproving the need for spiritualism. As churches and temples crumble, the mini-Monarchs and 1 percenters will shun people that have faith in spiritualism and deem it is necessary to worship money and opulence. Something that  you are sure never to see or experience, because you are the slave to the society (1 percent) that controls your future. It does not matter what faith one has because the 1 percent of society has no use for any of these religions and will continue to tear down these beliefs until no one believes or cares. If you think that this is an exaggeration, then look at all the abandoned churches in almost any community, in any city in commercial corporate North America. Even if you have no faith, you will still be a serf to the whips of extravagance.

Deceptive Eloquence League of Hypnotic Parables

We have all been conned to think the church is the enemy. The church was the symbol of the community. Not the Pope, not religion on a global scale, not the Vatican, not the vast wealth that certain false prophets have amassed through the populist, not the sexual abusers that hide behind the church, not the greedy that have reaped mass wealth from the church. The church’s true meaning is the community, where the community enjoyed spiritual activities that only enriched the community, making them stronger. It does not take a genius to see why the 1 percent of society wants to tear religion down. In most communities, they have been successful and have enslaved the people in those communities to work (slave) for one common objective. To keep the 1 percent of society and their mini-Monarchs idolised as a way of life. However, that way of life can never be attained by all, thus becomes illusive and waning. In basics, spirituality teaches us to rely on one’s self to continue their journey. Ultimately, that is all spirituality is all about. It does not need a temple, bank, or money store. All it needs is belief, and it is free. So if you prefer to listen to that rich opulent artist chant their melodious intonation rants promoting capitalism, greed and opulence, all at the cost of freedom, or that commercial ad about how great people are that buy that opulent, overpriced vehicle, or commercial programming about cops busting the poor and indigent of society.  Then you will never be free. Just a conduit of commercial adornment.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

 

 

Liegeman In the Orphanage of Non-Acquiescence

Doctrine of Proprietary Philosophy

There more lies in this world then the truth. But one ounce of truth can destroy one ton of feint. This world can not seem to rid itself of the constant barrage of ravenous thought and actions that put a stranglehold on our daily existence. If we cannot share our wealth then we are nothing. Colleges and universities put astronomical price tags on knowledge that should be shared amongst everyone. The internet is a positive stride towards shareable intellect, however, because of commercialism and profiteering, it is being scattered and produced into fragments and pieces of arbitrary, non-sited left overture. What is sited material? Bibliography? To show the reader where the information was derived from. Is it important? In my opinion, it really has no bearing other than making the reader comfortable that he/she is reading something that has been verified before. Like an author of a mathematics book who uses verified methods and formulas to create his/her own styles and varieties of solutions set forth in his/her “original publication”. This also sets the stage for the necessity for one to be aware of the history and hierarchy of information and knowledge which in turn sets a proprietary regulation, enforcing people to go to certain institutions to be brainwashed in the knowledge or doctrine people seek or desire. Usually for money, because that is how we have been conditioned to  believe things work and the only way people can be creditable or credible. The more you pay, the smarter you can become? I doubt it very seriously. But if you do have vast amounts of money, it can be bought.

Diploma of Homelessness

It can be a scary thought when all one really has to do is be from a rich family to get a university education. People do argue though that many people from any income bracket go to university. Yes they do and not without sacrifice. Bottom line is, there are many a street persons with university degrees. Many of them fell through the cracks and you can bet your great grandmother’s wedding band that is in the pawn shop because you had to buy groceries, that a person from a wealthy family that has some sort of degree is not the one on the street. The fact that this proprietary snobbishness dictates what information is creditable and what information is not, is the reason the internet is being converted from the information highway, to the  infiltration commercial sewer. Where the only thing a brainwashed mind would deem creditable or credible is what commercial corporate North America and their bought off main con-stream media says is true or creditable (credible). Once you tear down the illusive barriers the 1 percent of society props up, like a “B” movie stage set, you can see how they manipulate people into doing their bidding. In one word, slavery.

Certificate of the Indoctrination

The internet still has the information, if you scrape for it. You can pretty much find any information you need, but in most increasingly cases, you have to put up with proprietary commercial ads imposed upon you by the mini-Monarchs and the people that allow those ads on their sites, videos, etc. Some people will defend this to the highest degree, but in the end, you will find they are collecting a lot of money from these ads playing on there works. The commerce of commercialism changes how the internet works and feels. Surely I should show some empathy for these individuals, firms, companies, mini-Monarchs that impose this brainwashing spew on a daily basis, hour to hour, minute to minute, second to second, not. I despise commercialism to the highest degree. It has been so overly abused and compromised, that one would wonder where it really started and how did it get so twisted. Greed has twisted its’ intent to provide information where the commodity is available by attempting to brainwash you that you cannot exist properly without the commodity. People that watch TV and put up with commercials every 8 to 10 minutes interrupting their brainwashed entertainment really need help. But to confront these individuals is almost impossible. They will say things like; “I like to watch commercials. They are funny.” or “I like commercials because I can get up and get things done during the commercials.” or “Some commercials really do provide me with great product information.” I am almost positive anyone has heard these lines before in one form or another. If you do, then you really have a brainwashed victim on your hands. Now that streaming and alternate programming feeds are available, some people still flock to the same old mind deteriorating swill series, but now without the commercials. Better, yes but still brainwashing. Because they, in most cases, depending on the series, have one full hour to keep you under constant brain-hone mode, uninterrupted. Remember who ultimately pays for these series and miniseries. Commercialism, brought to you by, the mini-Monarchs of commercial corporate North America, courtesy of the 1 percent of society.

Doctor of Adverse Advertisement

Ultimately, what does this do to the people that reject the programming? It attempts to isolate us into desolation. In hopes that people around will label you into some sort of loose cannon and will attempt to humiliate you back to the program. Thus making anyone still on the program the gatekeeper for commercialism and they will defend greed, opulence, aggression, violence, barbarism, domination, and slavery. And, they will not even know it, only that they are defending the thought process of the status quo, capitalism. Greed = opulence, opulence = aggression, aggression = violence, violence = barbarism, barbarism = domination, domination = slavery. We have become divided, even in our own homes. It is the family unit they want to destroy, With that destroyed, it makes their agendas easier because without the family, our morals and dignities are at great risk. One can stand alone, because ultimately, that is how we are born and that is how we will leave this world. Isolation may hurt but it will make one stronger. People will see your strength because you are following your true life’s path. That can only inspire a following that everyone is equal and able to choose without fear of reprisal.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

3-60’s Beatniks In Granny Boots

Spring-Summer Episode 1: Grooving Perusal Bayou

Sitting in an holding cell, now free of their restraints and gunny head shrouds, the 3-60 Beatniks in Granny boots adjusted their circular rose shaded glasses, as the looked over the white, almost sterile room. There was a large mirror that covered most the north wall. The locked, metal door on the east side of the room was also white, with a large, white, boardroom like table in the middle of the lenitive area. “Wow, it is so white and clean in here. I wonder how much thought went into the decorating of this room? It seems, like, none!” snickered Sara rubbing her wrists from the relief of the plastic ties, now removed. “At least it does not smell like fish in here!” said Marsha as she stood up and went close to the mirror, fixing her hair, and checking her face for smudges. “You mean, dirty cracker’s underwear, not fish!” said Sara looking into the large mirror. Mary sat there with a bored look on her face. “From watching Janis, to this? What a complete drag. I’m bored.” said Mary  tipping back on her chair, pulling her maxi skirt above her knees and spreading her feet apart, now up on the large table facing the mirror.  “You know Mary, that is most likely a 2 way mirror, so if you are trying to give the military boys a peep show, they are all probably standing at attention, in more ways than one!” said Sara getting up and grabbing Mary’s granny boots and guiding her exposed limbs off the table. “2 way mirror? I know that one. That is a mirror that you can see yourself from both sides, only reversed.” said Marsha still gawking at her face in the mirror, looking clueless as ever. Sara, looked at Marsha and shook her head as she sat down in one of the many seats situated around the large table. “I am bored and hungry. We need something to eat, and if possible, something to read? I don’t want to offend Miss Remedial Inbred Queen, but some of us can, and like to read!” complained Sara getting up and knocking on the mirror. “I thought I was dumb. But really Sara, do really expect someone to hear you knocking on the mirror? Try knocking on the door!” said Marsha being annoyed from Sara disturbing her vanity session. “Coming from you Marsha, I can almost not be insulted, except for the fact that you are the only one that knows how to apply lipstick in a speedboat going 60 mph over four foot waves, thus given the explanation of a 2 way mirror would coincide to my established theory of your brainpower, but more so, it contradicts all laws of physics and established espionage philosophy of why a 2 way mirror was invented, but given your impeccable vanity aptitude, would make perfect sense!” said Sara as she fogged up the mirror with her breath and drew a flower followed by an exclamation point.

In side another room, adjoined to the holding room via the 2 way mirror, stood Mark, Patti, and some other agents watching and snickering from Sara’s comments about Patti. “I think you should let me interrogate the mouthy one! I would like to start immediately!” insisted Patti, holding her holster, glaring at Sara through the 2 way mirror. “I would think that you should interrogate Marsha, Patti. Besides, we should give them some food and some magazines to keep them occupied.” said Mark trying to be reasonable, knowing Patti was off balance from Sara’s remarks. “Let me get them some food and magazines.” said Patti with a devious grin. A man in a black suit stood up from the rear of the observation room. “No, I think that you should stay in here. Mark, arrange that they get some food. Under no circumstances are any of you to freelance.  We have to decide the validity of their White House intrusion. Record your findings and we will return with the interrogation procedural.” said a man in a black suit as he stood up. “Ok sir!” said Mark promptly, nudging Patti. “Yes, yes sir.” said Patti reluctantly. “We are going to leave Ronda to assist with the initial interrogation. They were not armed so it could be just a childish prank. After they eat, proceed with standard breach interrogation. Mark, you assign whom interrogates who. And keep it simple. We do not need another human rights case against us!” continued the man in the black suit, as he was followed by two other male agents and three female agents out of the observation room. “Rhonda, you go get them some food, drinks and something to read.’ commanded Mark. “Yes sir.” said Rhonda as she exited the observation room. Patti flopped frustrated onto one of the chairs closest to the 2 way mirror. “Figures they would think these twits are interesting. If I had my way,” said Patti getting cut off by Mark. “Enough Patti. Please try to be professional. We are very close to being promoted to full fledged agents. If they see you can be easily unbalanced, they will not promote you.” said Mark hoping to calm Patti’s temper. Patti stood up and snuggled closer to Mark. “Please hold me. I need to know you are mine.” said an insecure Patti hugging Mark. Mark responded and hugged Patti back.

Sara, now very close to the mirror, was shielding her eyes and could just barely see Mark holding Patti because of the extra light shining into observation room from the door being slightly ajar. “Oh yeah, Miss Fiddler in the Booth is getting hot! Watch out Mark, she is probably ovulating. Will we be invited to the shotgun wedding? May be we could bleach a gunny sac white so her family can afford a wedding dress!”  exclaimed Sara loudly as it clearly came through the intercom in the observation room. Mark quickly let go of Patti and dashed to close the ajar door. “She is going to die!” yelled Patti drawing her gun and pointing the pistol right at Sara’s forehead, while Sara grinned through the two way mirror. Mark quickly grabbed the gun and pointed the barrel up towards the ceiling. “Put it away! Slowly!” commanded Mark as he guided the gun back to her hip. Patti with an enraged look, holstered her weapon. “Who are you talking to Sara? Yourself?” snickered Mary as she was stretched out on her chair with her feet on another chair, playing with the beads in her hair. “Really Sara, I think you have lost it!” said Marsha as she puckered up her lips, looking in the mirror in admiration. “I may of just lost it, Marsha, but you never had it.” said Sara pacing back towards the table with her arms folded. At that moment, the door to the interrogation room opened as Rhonda appeared with a couple boxes of pizza, a six pack of pop, along with magazines. Rhonda placed the items on the table as another soldier guarded the open door. Sara seeing something to read, went and grabbed a magazine. Being very hungry, Marsha and Mary both grabbed a pop and some pizza and sat down. Mary, ate her piece with large bites, followed with large gulps of pop. Marsha, daintily placed a serviette on the table, and placed the pizza on the serviette, and carefully opening the can of pop, taking  a small sip. Then she grabbed the piece of pizza with another napkin and took small nibbles. Sara, while reading one of the magazines, took a piece of pizza and a pop, and sat down.

Later, Sara was seated in the original interrogation room alone. Rhonda and Patti escorted Mary and Marsha to separate rooms to start the interrogation. Sara, now through 2 magazines, was starting on the third just as the door opened. She closed the magazine seeing it was Mark. “Hey handsome, I missed you!” said Sara tauntingly as she smiled at Mark. “Hello Sara, I will be your interrogator this evening. Please keep in mind that none of you are in any real trouble. We just have to assess why you drove up on the White House Lawn.” explained Mark as he sat down, placing a digital voice recorder on the table. “Are you going to tie me up? Torcher me? You really don’t have to. I will give you anything you want! But a little light bondage would be ok.” said Sara sexily as she  place her wrists together and offered them to Mark who was seated across the table from her. Mark, almost smiling, composed himself and looked Sara in the eyes seriously. “Why did you drive on to the White House lawn? Better question would be how did you get passed the security to drive up on the lawn?” asked Mark very curious.  “I have a question. What do you see in that country bumpkin girlfriend of yours?” asked Sara winking at Mark. “What makes you, I mean she is not my girlfriend. We have a strictly professional relationship.” said Mark a bit off balance. “Don’t worry hon, you secret is safe with me.” said Sara raising her eyebrows. “So, my question Sara? How did you get passed security and drive up on the lawn?” asked Mark waiting for an answer. “We just landed there. We did not drive anywhere. The motor was off. If any of your brilliant counterparts would of checked, they would of found the VW motor was stone cold. Which I rebuilt myself by the way. I only started it trying t get off the lawn.” said Sara half smiling. “Then you immediately had me turn off the ignition. Not to mention, there no track marks on the lawn, which I am sure you noticed.” continued Sara sighing and sitting back, starting to get bored.

In the other Interrogation room, Rhonda was interrogating Mary who was sitting on the table. “Please Mary, sit in the chair.” commanded Rhonda who also had a digital recorder on the table. Mary got off the table and sat in the chair across from Rhonda. “What were you doing on the White House lawn? Is it some sort of protest? What were you trying to accomplish?” asked Rhonda looking Mary’s clothing over. “I don’t know. You should ask Sara. She knows why we were there. I just go with the flow.” said Mary tapping her fingers. “So as far as you know, it was a protest?” asked Rhonda hoping for a better answer. “I guess. But usually when we protest, we paint flowers on our faces and rally with a lot more people. Like when we protested the war. You know. But Sara usually knows when we do those things. All I know is we were at Woodstock, and then we were at the Whitehouse.” said Mary blankly looking around the room. “Why were you in Woodstock, New York?” asked Rhonda now confused. “Last thing I remember is listening to Janis, then we went to our van and now we are here.” said Mary getting fidgety. “Who is Janis? Is she a friend?” asked Rhonda. “She is the singer? Janis? Woodstock? Duh?” questioned Mary in amazement. “She is dead. So it could not be her. She has been dead for decades.” explained Rhonda. “Yeah, ok, and so is Jimi right?” said Mary now snickering. “When were you born Mary?” asked Rhonda looking at Mary’s ID.

In another interrogation room, Patti was sitting across Marsha who was straightening out her clothes. “So Marsha, you have no recollection of how you ended up on the Whitehouse lawn?” asked Patti trying to be patient.  “Well, I remember fixing my hair and makeup after we flew out of that tornado thingy, almost like  Dorothy, but we were flying in our van carried by the tornado, but I know we were not in Kansas, cause we were watching a concert while carrying our silicone dolls that were made, when we flew on another tornado to this factory, that made silicon dolls, so we had silicon replicas made of each of us, after signing a modeling contract, but then flew on another tornado back to the concert, and that is when we flew on this tornado, in our van, to that rich guy’s big white house, where you made us wear smelly bags on our head all the way here, wherever that is, I am not sure. Can I get my makeup now?” said Marsha really in need of a vanity fix. Patti just looked at Marsha totally confounded and speechless. “Please wait here Marsha.” said Patti with a phoney grin trying not to remove her gun from her holster, as she walked out of the room.

To be continued, tornado thingy speaking…

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017

Martyrdom of the Abecedarian, Impalement of the Unindemnified

Despoiler of the Quotidian Muliebrous, Philistines of the Gridiron

How do they keep us down so beneath our dignities? When and how does this pristine twisted attitude penetrate our hearts and become respected knowledge? One may philosophise that it is the way of the natural world, that we are all naturally, barbaric and aggressively competitive. Possibly. But I have the belief that the ravenous of society are the creators of this stage of vulgarity because they know it is damaging to the human spirit. A spirit that they need to control or crush. How is this accomplished? There are “soldiers of depredation” all around us. We usually cannot distinguish who they are out of blind faith pounded into our brains as children in the capitalist schools of proselytization and, later in life, famed idolisation. Many indoctrinating methods are utilised. But some, are best explained by the “experience”.

Amiss Gullion of Intrepid Torment

A woman in her early 30’s, now divorced with 3 children, living in low cost housing, large enough to shelter herself and children. She was victimized as an young child, sexually abused at the hands of her mother and father. She was married early, at 17, to a physically and sexually abusive spouse who fathered the 3 offspring that she now solely cares for. Being alone, responsible for 3 children, she prostituted part time to make ends meet, filling the void that social assistance failed to cover. She was partially illiterate, with no marketable skills for employment. Easily influenced by showy people who encouraged her profession, she kept irregular hours, and hardly ever got time off to do anything for herself. Although she kept her alcohol and drug consumption in check, she liked to go out with a girlfriend for drinks at local venues to free herself of stress. Being a hockey fan, she could not help but notice, in the particular lounge she and her girlfriend chose that evening, had several hockey players seated at a couple  of adjoining tables celebrating. They were surprised to see the crests on the player’s jackets indicated a professional hockey league team, being that their town did not have a major hockey team, only a minor. Her girlfriend, being more outgoing, got up and walked towards the tables occupied by the hockey team members. Her girlfriend immediately sat down and started talking to one of the team members. Being receptive, the hockey players all raised their drinks. “This toast is for, what is your name sweetie?” asked the team captain, directing the toast to her girlfriend still seated with the hockey players. “Karen!” said her girlfriend enthusiastically. They all drank to Karen and slammed down their glasses. “Why don’t you invite your friend over here Karen? She must be lonely sitting at the bar by herself.” said another team mate barely standing up. “Sit down Pete, before you break your neck! We are just passing through. How would it look if you were injured in a nowhere town like this?” said the captain, grabbing his shoulder and pushing back into his seat. “Come over Darlene and bring your stuff!” called Karen getting snuggly with one of the team members. Darlene, nervously grabbed her stuff and walked towards the table and sat close to Karen. “Come on, honey, mingle with the boys!” said Karen now holding hands with one of the players. Soon, one of the players started talking to Darlene. “Don’t mind these fools. We’ve had a hard road trip and have a one day layoff. We will be headed out tomorrow afternoon. So we are blowing off some steam.” said the player to Darlene. Darlene, although still a bit nervous, was attracted to his seemingly stability and control. “What is your name?” asked Darlene being more at ease. “Joselyn, but just call me Joe!” said Joselyn smiling. Darlene smiled back and shook his offered hand lightly. After a few more drinks, that seemed to continually appear before her, she was feeling a bit light headed. Pete, who was stumbling around, grabbed Darlene’s shoulder. “Hey babe! drink up!” said Pete, grabbing one of her untouched drinks, slamming it back. Darlene who was startled, looked up at Pete and let out some laughter. Being close to closing, the captain stood up. “Come on everyone, bar is closing. we have to go to our rooms.” said the captain finishing his drink and walking towards the lobby leading towards the rooms. “Hey Darlene, come to our room for a drink? A few of us are going to have a small party. Want to come?” asked Joselyn in a pleasant tone. Darlene not really sure hesitated to answer. Karen, who was arm and arm with the other player said “Come on Darlene, I will be with you. It will be cool.” Darlene stood up and grabbed her coat and purse. “Ok, one drink won’t hurt.” said Darlene staying close to Karen and Joselyn whom offered his arm for her to hold.

In the room, which Darlene had no idea whose room it was, assumed it was Joselyn’s room. She was drinking, and was more relaxed. She was listening to Pete mumble on about his wife and the problems he was having being on the road so much. To Darlene’s dismay, she noticed that Karen and the player she was clinging to was no where in sight. Suddenly, Joselyn grabbed Pete and led him to the door. “Go to you room and sleep it off!” said Joselyn as Pete stumbled out the door with a few other players leaving. Darlene, now sitting there in one of the room’s chairs felt alone and vulnerable. Joselyn was whispering to the other players in the room, 7 or 8 team members in total but Darlene was not really sure. “Where is Karen?” asked a nervous Darlene standing putting on her coat. “Karen who?” said Joselyn sarcastically. Darlene then grabbed her purse and started to walk towards the door. Joselyn roughly grabbed her arm and made her sit on the bed. “Let go of me!” said Darlene in retaliation, now thoroughly frightened. Joselyn just glared at her as he went towards the door and locked both locks. “You are not going anywhere.” said Joselyn in a threatening tone walking back to her, standing over her. “Look, I have kids at home. I have to go back. Please let me go!” said Darlene in a frantic, pleading manner. “You industrial town bitches are all alike! You let us buy you drinks and tease us with your skimpy clothes, but when the time comes to put out, you all make excuses.” said Joselyn as the other drunk team members laughed. She got up again and Joselyn pushed her back on the bed. She defiantly rolled off the side close to the door, got up and made a dash to leave, but felt a sharp, blunt pain against the back of her head, and blacked out. She abruptly awoke to a glass of vodka and seven splashed on her face by one of the chuckling team members. Two teammates held her arms and two others held her legs up in a spread eagle fashion while she laid upon one of the bureau dressers. She was completely naked minus the her half torn bra that was now around her waist, and her high heeled shoes, one of them with a broken, hanging heel. Joselyn, who was holding a lamp minus the lamp shade with a lit incandescent 100 watt light bulb, moving the lit bulb now very hot towards Darlene’s open and exposed vagina. “Please, let me go. Please!” said Darlene in duress and fear. “I wonder if we can insert this bulb without breaking it?” asked Joselyn sadistically as he moved the hot lit bulb, now very close to Darlene’s vagina. “Please, stop, please! I will do anything you want! Please don’t!” cried Darlene now sobbing uncontrollably unable to struggle free in fear of being burned as other team members laughed and drank more. As Darlene was almost ready to pass out again, from the fear and feeling the heat of the hot lit bulb now just millimeters away from her exposed genitalia, Joselyn pulled back the lamp back a bit. “Ok, you have a deal. You will do what ever we want and will satisfy everyone in this room. Then you can go home to your kids.” said Joselyn heartlessly as the remaining teammates in the room laughed. “Yes, I will do whatever you want. Just please don’t burn me!” said Darlene still sobbing. Joselyn pulled the cord of the lamp out of the wall socket and tossed the lamp across the room. They proceeded to rape her for what seemed like hours. They left her alone in the room after they were finished raping her. She looked in the mirror in the bathroom after she cleaned herself and cried. She managed to dress with her torn clothes. Darlene left the room, hobbling down the hall with her broken heel dragging, leaving out the rear exit.

She never talked to her friend Karen again, despite Karen’s several attempts to call or visit. She tried to press charges, and told her story to female constables countless times, and they made the report, but ultimately was buried by the crown/district attorney suggesting the lack of the accuser’s credibility and evidence. It never lead to any charges being laid and the story was buried in some basement in some box with other abandoned cases.

“Tex” oNid ittEnEbEd (sHow nO mErcY)

© Copyright: dYnoReX and ADGMusic/Soft/Literature Org All rights reserved 2017