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Saturday, November 26, 2011

154 Get It Up And Then Go Down

















Here we go baby. Katheena wouldn’t go home the same way she had come in. None of us would.






Care to follow?










Katheena crept quietly back behind the lovely mansion into the darkness. All around her, shadows slithered and grew close.



She hid from the curious moon above, who had its eye on the ants in front of the mansion, where cars beeped and honked like angry geese, pinching asses of the stupid people in their way.



Katheena shivered, but not from the desert dust in her nose. Her senses told her to run.


She thought it was from dust.



No.





So This Is Goodbye, by William Fitzsimmons.









Instinct called to her, from millions of years of self preservation at the cellular level. It is always a good idea to listen to what your instinct tells you. Logic is a newborn, and while it screams and demands attention to be fed and its diaper changed, it does not have all of the answers.



Your shivery skin may tell you something, while your mind tries to reason your fear into submission.



Fear exists for a reason.



Listen to it when it is true, and become deaf to it when greater things arise.



She should have listened, this one time, to her fear.



Her Mettle is that she would do both, but not at the same time.




One follows the other, but neither is the leader.



Ya think?



-----------------------




The stairs were dry. Joey punched me in the thigh. “Dude! Don’t make me strike you in the ass! Let’s go grab Sean and get the fuck outta here! Why you waiting?!”





I grunted and rubbed my thigh, and turned back down to shout at him. I had the willies. All of my skin was creeping like it was covered with ants. “Joseph, shut the fuck up! You need to look at these steps!”




Joey’s arms dropped, and he sensed my fear. He looked down. “These steps are narrow, dusty and old. So what?”


I whispered, “I saw the Glinty dude go in here. He showed me the way.”



Joey’s eyes widened. He wiped his wet eyes. “You took me in here because of that fucker? I’m gone. Not my problem.” He swung around on his heel.



I grabbed him by the leather. “No! Hear me out, man. This is an escape route, to get out of the place from the floors above!”



Joey pulled away and his face was white. “Exactly what I’m saying! We need to escape and get the fuck out! Down is this way!”


I knew his panic, and I grabbed on his leather. “Nope. We have to go up. Sean is still up there.”



"What the fuck are you talking about, Weeeee-ill?! Ain't no one up there waiting for us but that creepy bastard who was trying to kill you. He looking to give me a rub down too!"



I really wanted to chust fucking bail now.





You see, I smelled Lorelei's perfume.





It was all over me.






I---







I...







i









Alone,







...nothing was there anymore.









Perfume from a girl under the ocean, thousands of miles away, here in this dusty stairwell that lead to hell below, or heaven above?



Her scent made me come apart at the seams.




Yet,






It held me intact.






What The Fuck?





Underneath the weak light of the filament bulbs overhead, I felt some strength.



Out of nowhere.






I heard the ocean in my ears, and I stopped shivering from my cold, soaked leather.





I was not drowning in my fear.





Peace, out of mayhem.



Huh.




I said, "Joseph, would Sean leave you and bail? Do you think that Sean would do that to you? Do you think? Do You Think At All?!"








His tensed arm softened.



He knew I was right.



No Escape for us, in this moment.




Joey stood there, in his fumbling mind, and then he straightened up. He recovered the ball. He looked back up at me. There was resolve in his eyes.



Fuck yeah.



I really needed to see that in this moment, because I would have followed him out and run off with him and escaped if he had simply said No.


But he didn’t say No.



Huh.




Most of the times, the Exit, (the Escape), is your friend.




In the other few times such as now, the opposite direction is the Entrance, and you must pass through it to Escape, to Exit.





Up to go down. The yang to the yin, baby. The white and the red. Desert and ocean. Exit and Entrance.




Never the twain shall meet.




Fuck the grey, the pink, the mud, the middle ground, the fence-sitting, and the inaction due to fear.



Joey shrugged his leather back onto his shoulders and adjusted his tie.



We would go up.









Jesus For The Jugular, by The Veils.







Katheena looked into windows as she crept along, feeling the tingle of what she thought was desert dust inhaled, but not recognizing that she was in imminent danger.



You know from reading the Lorelei Talks that Katheena was in touch with her Thailand heritage, through her mother. Katheena performed the excellent Japanese tea ceremony quite well. Asia is a continent comprised of hundreds of distinct cultures, just like the USA has over 565 original tribes of cultures, each with their own language, origin story, and customs.


Katheena's mother educated her with the beauty and strength gleaned from thousands of years of culture and civility.




Katheena knew much more than we two punk bastards frozen in fear in the dusty, ancient up-stairwell.




She knew more than she knew.




She stood up and swung around. The shadows held back, with their long tendrils about to slip up from the ground and the walls to grab her.



She pulled out the small white envelope and opened it.





She inhaled a deep breath,





and then she blew all of that desert dust into the air all around her, spinning, and she tossed the paper away.





LINKS


Karate Kid, the way it was originally shot. Before the special effects department dressed it up.






Brinicle. Icicle made out of sea water. It will kill you.






1,000 girls, (2,000 boobies), two hands. One month of Awesome.







So you say that you enjoy listening to Nickleback? Huh. Here’s the Motown version. Kinda improves it.





1/5th of a second. Beauty.


Seconds Of Beauty - 1st round compilation from The Beauty Of A Second on Vimeo.






Those funny Messicans. They chust don’t vote!




Watch American Voices: Gustavo Arellano on the 2012 Latino vote on PBS. See more from NEED TO KNOW.






25 pics of people in stoopid clothing. Kinda lost faith in humanity after seeing these.






How The English Language came to be.






Why the English Language is fucking awesome dooode.







Speaking of constructing things with your bare hands, how about a tiny engine? Pretty bad ass.





Speaking of speaking and creating things, Samuel L. Jackson narrates “Go The Fuck To Sleep.” A child’s night time story. Quite soothing…







God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.









OK, One More For You.


GI Joe. Home made, but pretty cool.









.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

153 THE GLINTY, AND THE METTLE OF KATHEENA







(Thank you Yes …Let’s work together.)





My friends were half red. They had been sprayed on one side by the fire alarm marker paint as they ran after me out of Minacca’s mansion in escape mode. The cloud of spray did not get into their eyes, thank goodness.



We were in dire need of goodness. Not much was to be found there in that mansion that night, you know.



Please press play as you read along. Let’s head back to the off-skirts of Fuckno in the mid eighties of the last century, and let’s go get Sean. Cool with you?



Get your head set.



Absynthe Minded. My Heroics. Dotta says that this is to be put here. Thank you Jaz for this bluesy funk.




You good? Let's go baby.




Of course, as the comedown crept over us and made our heads look for a pillow, those two looked to me for leadership. Such a poor form of leadership. Never do such a thing. Only darkness follows.







Yup, I used my ID card and told Katheena to hold it level. She had too much of the tremble to hold it steady.


Joey saw that and took the ID card from her, and he held it up like cement, like desert hard pan.


I opened the paper envelope and used the straw to dig in and then make three piles.



I held the straw for each of them, and then for myself.



Snuck, snuck, snuck. It was Fucked instant energy, from the eighties.



The straw was red from my finger tips. Perhaps it was from being sprayed by the fire alarm as I pulled it down?



No. Sorry about that.




I had made my fingers bleed by scratching up onto the tarred tiles of the roof where we sat now, with the golden light from the windows of the lovely mansion shining down, with its flashing emergency lights.



My two friends became my blood brother and sister, inhaling my blood on the straw. Gross, I know.



Blood relatives, in the worst ceremony ever; I never intended such a thing.


The worst way, because of the white, evil desert dust we three pink bastards inhaled on the roof of the rich pigs. Red and white, never the twain shall meet.



Fuck.



What is important here is the consideration of what it meant for a person to travel from a river culture tribe that has existed for ten thousand years in our own river valley, (named after us, as well as the ocean bay into which it runs, also named after us), and then I'd been deposited like river silt into a desert arroyo, in the Sans Joking River Valley.


Except, one thing.



The ocean is our savior. All rivers lead to it. The ocean washes away the sins of the past, the now, and the future.



Even if you end at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again, would you be seen again?



We three punks did not know that we were now related, but it mattered, and you will see, as we go along.




+++++++++++++++++++++++++=




It was not raining down in the desert right then, not yet. The blur of watercolor folks below indicated what was about to happen.



Shit was about to get drenched, inside and out, like a tidal wave that would cover the whole earth, there in that Sans Joking River Valley.



Here we go, my friend.



We were young, we were full of fucked up energy that would not last another twenty minutes, and we jumped off the low, sloping, rear edge of the garage into the long, soft hay growing off to the right of the fuel tanks, and we rolled.



Nope, wouldn’t try that these days. Now go get me my walker and make me a nice pot of tea spiked with absinthe.



We dusted off and looked at each other under the light of the fraught-faced moon high above.



She was pissed. We were as well.



“Katheena, you good?”


“Yes, I am good.”





“You good Joey?”


“Nope. I’m bad. I’m fucking evil.”



I laughed. “Let’s go.”






Around the corner of the garage, I swear to gawd I saw the lovely front hood of Stacy, the bitch with the biker boyfriend. She was headed to her white Celica.


Hah?



I turned around to mention this to my two buds, but they grabbed my leather with scared faces. Katheena shushed what I was about to say.


She said, “Look!”



Amid the blur of watercolor folks streaming about, a dark figure slowly walked back to the servant entrance and disappeared inside.



Huh?


What the ---?





THE GLINTY












Katheena said, “What the fuck is up with that creepy guy?”



Joey said, “Time to bail. Not my problem.”




I looked back at them and pulled them close, and I glared into their eyes. My jaw was clenching from the desert dust. “No. We have to get Sean. I think he’s still up inside that mansion, up high. We need to go look for him. Fuck that old dude.”



I felt their arms tense up under their leather.



It was too easy to escape, chust run off, fuck it all, have a nice bath with candles and read the latest edition of Vogue or someshit.


Uh, nope.


You never leave a friend behind.





Even if Sean had done this to us.





He had been disappeared from us for a while, but in such a situation, he would never bail on us.



Even if he and Katheena had never met.




Next weekend, we will see the aftermath.
















Just kidding. Come on, you know me by now.












Joey said, “Awwwww. Fuck. I knew you’d say that.”


Katheena shrugged. “OK. You are calling the shots, Will. Let’s go get him.”





Way off in the distance, we heard sirens. They sing their mournful song to lure men on the ocean to bring them to the shoals, to crash in their ships.


Katheena’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, Will! It’s raining inside! We will be drenched!”


Joey smiled. “Gonna ruin your pretty makeup?”



Katheena punched Joey in the arm. “No, you fucker! That shit Will has in his pocket will be soaked. We will need the last bit of it if I am going to drive us out of this hellhole!”



I looked down at her beautiful eyes. “You want to carry it and wait in your car for us?”



Now this was a crux, a sort of turning point, a testament.



This was where the Mettle of Katheena would be tested.



You see, neither me nor Joey would ever doubt the loyalty of Katheena again. But, as you well know by now, I had been fucked over by her in the Lorelei chapters.



What would you have done?


I nodded. “OK, Katheena. But you need to go around behind this place to get to your car way over there, on the other end. Too many people saw you. You kind of stick out.”



She giggled, and it was the sound of, well, you know by now. “We all do. Joey and I are all painted in red! Just hurry the fuck up.”



Joey looked at me, and I nodded. All would be good.


Of course it would.












She snuck off and we waited for an opening in the crowd. Of course, we watched her creep off, all bent over in her short black dress.




In the clear air of the dry desert night, which would soon be raining down with angry daggers, we found an opening in the blur when the last of the rich pigs emptied out of the huge mansion.



Over in the parking lot, headlights glared at assholes in front of them who lost their sense of reason and direction, and there were folks in purple robes and white aprons searching throughout, for we punk bastards. Limousines lined the exodus, amidst stupid people frittering about like ants.




Joey and I crept over to the rear entrance and went in. Yes, it was raining down. I think that this place had a huge water tank up top, put in place for such a thing as a fire. It was doing its job quite well, down here on the first floor, even if there was indeed no fire.


A dark shape in middle of the empty hallway slipped off to the right.



Huh?


I hesitated, only for a moment, but it felt like forever.


No.



I would not falter, in the face of my fear. My skin crawled, and it was not from the cold water raining down on us.


I shivered from the inside out.



Joey followed me through the mist down the hallway. Piercing alarms rang in our ears, which had the effect of disorientation upon our navigation. Water got into my eyes, and I had to keep rubbing them to get a clear view. It was hard to breathe in this air. It felt like a wet rag over my face and nose, like I could drown. Someday, people would call it waterboarding. How fucked up is that?



He stopped. “Weeeeee-ill! We go up these stairs! Where you going?”



I went on ahead to where the dark figure had passed in the blur of this mist of suffocating spray. He ran after me and yanked at my leather, pulling me back. I turned to him and wiped my face. “I got an idea!”



Joey wiped his own eyes and pointed back at the up-stairs. I shook my head, and swung around on my heel.



I got to where the dark figure had disappeared, and found a panel in the wall that was slightly open. Light streamed through its crack, so I pulled it all the way open.



Joey, gobless him, he was still right at my side.



We went in and up.


The rain was gone.



“Joseph, pull that door closed. We hidden now. I don’t think those cook staff know about this shit. Don't ask me why.”


“What about those weird fucks in the robes?”



I looked down at him. “I have no idea.”



We headed up.




This stairwell was cramped and suffocating, but at least there was no rain. There were a few cobwebs, but the floors were not dusty. They looked like they were swept with a broom now and then.

The overhead light bulbs here and there were the filament style, with no frosting inside their glass. Very old.



Something thing tugged at my leather, in my head. I stopped, looked down, and Joey fan into me.



“OOF! …Weeee-ill! Don’t make me smack into your ass with my face! What the fuck?”




“Sorry, Joseph. Wait.”




The steps were dry.




Dry as desert dust.




There were no wet footprints from a dark shape heading up them from the rainy hallway below.




What the fuck?



What the fuck was I getting us into?




What the fuck was going on?






(I hate to do this to you...)




See you next time.




Here are your links.



Beautiful cloud pics for your Saturday Morning leisure while you have your coffee.





Evil Geniuses. They start little.




Good geniuses: Casein is the fiber found in milk, and now clothing can be made from it. Hah? Milk has fiber? Interesting….



Never enough “Perfect Tailgating” hints





Check the Aurora Borealis from the ISS. Imagine this is your job: getting paid to fly high like those lucky folks.

Earth | Time Lapse View from Space, Fly Over | NASA, ISS from Michael König on Vimeo.







Pictorial study of the human face, always interesting. Fifty pics.







For your Saturday Morning viewing pleasure, 17 minutes of awesome. Behind the scenes making of the first Indiana Jones movie.

@jamieswb Raiding the Lost Ark: A Filmumentary - Part 1 from jambe davdar on Vimeo.






Speaking of interesting locales, here’s a volcano hotel in Chile.




Speaking of cool things, here’s one that isn’t. The Hipster.




Books hipsters would read. “You one knows about these!”






LinkOK, enough of that crap. Let’s have us some fun.





Pics of Pencil Vs Camera. Very cool.






Check out this kid. Young dude can sing.






Here are some hotels folks in the TDC Forums will love.





The se7en most lethal moves in NFL history, each with video. (Press No Thanks, bottom right on the annoying but non-lethal pop-up. Trust, bro.) Then start the slideshow.





Here’s an old gem. Homeless man Mustard on the Opie and Anthony show. Creep.







Thank you for following me along this tale, my friend.




God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.









OK, Two More for your musical exploration.





Asa. (Pronounced Aysha) "Jailer." My Lady loves this. Thank you Lisa, for showing me a smooth crooner. I keep watching 2:35 – 3:20 over and over again. Chick knows her shit, dude. It’s blues, and not jazz here; Nigerian flavored, baby.







Clean version here.




Second one:


The Original Punkologist, Neil Young. First time for his classic, Old Man. And the story behind it, in the first five seconds.



























































nsfw













.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

152 You Never Leave A Friend Behind




From Lisa, my Lady, to me; and (vicariously) to you my friend.


Bon Iver. Skinny Love








We could not escape. There was no exit for us. We had a single Entrance, and it was one that would not last for another twenty minutes.



Each Entrance, you see, becomes narrower and exists for shorter periods of time, each time you use one of them.



You will chase them fruitlessly, furtively, until you reach your end.


---------------------------------


I pulled the fire alarm down, and a burst of red paint sprayed my hand. Lucky for me that such a marker did not catch me in the eyes. It simply burst all over my two best friends as they ran along behind me, all over their clothing.



Not in their eyes, Gobless ‘em.


Outside, we ran to the parking garage. The whole mansion rang with alarm at our departure. Chauffeurs looked toward the front doors, and seeing them, I grabbed my two friends and tugged them to the darkness.



It would always be that way. Sorry about that.



The door behind us erupted with kitchen staff and weird old fucks in purple robes pouring out like a stream of diarrhea, and they looked to the parking lot.



Behind them, folks afraid of being burned to death in a mansion fire ran out, and they crashed into those angry searchers. Folks in a panic will trample those who are in the way. It’s always a good idea to get the fuck out of the way when you exit an aircraft on fire, or a mansion that is about to explode.



All of the doors opened in this manner.




I ran back to the rear of the garage and saw that there were fuel tanks. These would be quite useful as ladders to get up on the roof.




Of course the mansion wasn’t about to explode. But we three punk bastards were the only ones to know this important piece of information.



I pulled Katheena up onto the nearest fuel tank and then grabbed her lovely backside to push her up to the lower edge of the roof. Then I leaped and dug my fingernails into the tar shingles to pull my self up. I wasn’t going to help Joey up in the same manner as Katheena.



I would pull him up, with my now bleeding finger tips.

Panic is helpful, but it can be messy. Do Not Panic, unless you need to. Then, be aware of the repercussions.



We crept to the rising edge of the garage roof, lied down on our bellies, and peered over at the melee below.



We watched those rich pigs stream out of the mansion that rained down on their fancy clothing.



A dark figure among them stopped.




He looked up into the night sky...





He put his finger to his lips.





Folks flew around him in a smear of watercolor in a rain squall, and they ran to their chauffeurs in their panicked state.




The parking lot became a cluster fuck.





That old man peered up to the top of the garage, through his black, round shades with the one on the right side broken down the middle.




He looked right through me. I shivered.




He nodded. The he turned, and he pointed to the top floors of the mansion, behind him.




I looked up to where he pointed, and I didn’t have a fucking clue.




Huh?



When I looked back down at him, he was gone.




Chust like that.




Hah?




I looked back up at the highest window, and saw a figure.





Warren Haynes. I’ll Be The One.







Katheena looked up into my face. “Will! What the fuck?”


Joey pounded my arm from the other side. “Weeee-ill! I seen that the creepy bastard who was trying to kill you!”



They were looking to me for direction, and I had chust about shit my pants.


What the hell would you have done?







Well, I know what you would have done.




You would have remembered Sean.




Why?



Here’s why.




Sean was still up inside.



Rich folks who built their mansions like old fashioned hotels back then did not know a simple fact, which is this: The above floors would not rain down from their overhead sprinklers until their fire detectors sensed heat, smoke, or fire.


This confabulation was intended to save a whole building from water damage, unless the fire was not contained, and only then would they activate.




I thought you knew that?




No worries.


I got your back.








LINKS






Herman Cain, by Mike Tyson. Oh Yeah. Fuck it. Mike should run.










Herman Cain, by Bad Lip reading. Fuck Yeah. That Bad Lip Reading dude should be the speech writer for Tyson.








Chris Titus: Love Is Evol. ! of 9












Glinty McFlintlock was an Okie. He had been a preacher for his clan, and he turned gunslinger when he got to Califuckedhimup. He went from the Bible to the gun.




When the Okies of the Depression Era and Dustbowls arrived, he was long dead. But something awoke him.




We will see how, if you continue along.






Never doubt Katheena.







Liars Blood Moon.




God Help You.

God Help Us All.



---willies out.












OK, Some more for you.






















We would have to go back in to get Sean. Yup. And it was raining inside. As we ran out, so did many others, to escape the downpour. We were feeling the comedown. And as we exited the servants' door, that alarm began to ring, but so did the whole place because of the fire alarm.





I pulled my two friends behind the car garage, because we feeling the come down again. We would need to line up yet again. Twenty minutes would get shorter each time.




That’s why such a pursuit is stoopid, frootless, and also, stupid and fruitless.




We would gain energy and strength again, but these things existed for shorter and narrower amounts of time.



They wanted to run off, but I held them at bay for a second.


I looked down at the stream of rich pigs in various stages of soaked, expensive attire spewing out of the exits.




Joey looked at me, shoulders shrugging. “Sup, Weeeeee-iil?



Katheena studied me for a moment, and then she looked to the upper levels of the mansion where that creepy old guy had been pointing. “Oh. Fuck. I forgot.”




Smart chick. I nodded. Joey’s eyes widened. “Uh, what? What?”




Katheena said, “Sean.”



Joey looked up at the high window on the mansion. There was nothing.



By now, you know something about Joey. He had (and still has) the sort of memory that a chick will exhibit to you only when she wants to call up all the details of an old argument or situation.



He remembered why we were there, after all the chaos and entropy happening at that moment.





“Sean... Wow... Fuck.”



One thing I hadn’t considered was this: We would be drenched when we Entered. And so would any sort of dry desert powder in a paper envelope in a leather jacket.


I did not think. I chust did not think. I chust didn't---






This is exactly how it did not end well.

























.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

151 Pray For Rain










Joey roared, Katheena winged, and I composed myself.


We were going to look for ole Glinty McFlintlock.


This would end badly.


I did not know who the fuck those old rich bastards were, flocking in their purple robes over by the pool, but I charged at them, and they flew off left and right. Those in front of my charge jumped back and they landed in the pool.


You might not know that a velvet robe, once it is soaked, weighs exactly 42 pounds of I Don’t Give A Shit, but they found out immediately.

They had trouble getting back up into the air.


Others went to help, and that is when we three punks went off to look for ole Ginty McFlintlock and, of course, Sean.


------------------------------------


We flew through the towel room and pushed them crooked vultures out of our way left and right, heading down the hallway where Minacca had run off minutes before, straggling her ripped-off garments over her bra and thong.


Crystal goblets of expensive wine and bone china plates of various tasty things shattered into clouds and mists of forgotten folklore.


We three punks were on a rampage.


There on the left was a familial area, which led off to the kitchen. You know to where I was leading my two friends.


Up.



There was a hallway beyond it that led to servants quarters, and a rear stairwell that held many surprises.



I was headed for Minacca’s room on the third floor.



The only thing that I had not considered was this: I was burning bridges. We would not be able to leave from where we had come. Once we found Sean we would have to make us a new exit.


Of course, that was the least of our worries at this point.


Katheena and Joey were simply happy to have me back among them, and leading them towards our original pursuit.



If only---



If only we had found Sean...



++++++++++++++++++++++



Cooks and waiters jumped out of the way as we charged through the galley, and they screamed. That is what folks do when they are concentrating on a task, whatever it may be, and they are loudly and rudely interrupted.


Our advantage was shock and fright.


We were Doc-booted punks dressed in black leather jackets, (one in a short black dress underneath hers) and we snarled with clenched teeth from our new found energy.


Some of those surprised kitchen staff grabbed large knives, as they felt the need to protect the house, to perhaps nab a reward or some shit for fighting off we invaders.


Once through the galley, we got to the hallway that led to the up-stairwell, the servants' quarters, and doors everywhere. I stopped to make sure that my two cohorts were in attendance.


They smashed into me and we fell to the floor.



“OWWW!”


“Fuuuuuuck Weeeee-ill!”



In the background, we heard these words, “They went through there!”




Then, as we jumped up, there was the awful sound of many footfalls echoing into this hallway.




At such a point, in such a situation, you have no time to think. You must rely upon your instincts.


The obvious instinct is to escape to where you were heading in the first place, and try to outrun your chasers.



But I had learned many things in trying to outrun some angry Messicans on my ten speed bike during the Trinity end-chapter.



I whispered to my friends, “Doors. Find ‘em and lock ‘em behind you. NOW!”





Joey opened a door that led down, and he grabbed me and Katheena to follow him. He had, indeed, found the wine cellar.

That would always be his nexus.



There, below, we looked around. Here was another one of those tombs that the rich bastards had dug out of the hard pan of the desert. We had no time to look around, but I could not help myself. There were rounds of Gruyere and other expensive cheeses. There were aisles of wine, as well.




What the hell? Was the whole high desert river valley of the Sans Joking River pock-marked with hidden treasure troves of expensive delicacies such as these?


I remembered Tommy Hewitt then and there. He had passed away in such a tomb.


Fuck that shit.







I grabbed my friends and glared into their eyes, from one to the other, left and right, right and wrong. They faltered from my rage. I pulled them close and muttered, “We will not end like this. We will head back up, and we will fucking dominate.”




I charged back up the stairs and erupted from the tomb into the hallway.







There were people in white chef coats and others wearing purple robes, all opening doors to the servants’ quarters and closets and shit.


We held the element of surprise, shock, and awe.


They all swung around to face us, with their knives and other accoutrement.



Feeling the adrenaline from panic along with the lovely, powerful charge of desert dust, I charged into them. They scattered into three dimensions: kitchen, hallway left, and long path to the servant’s exit/ entrance door on the right, which was armed with alarm. You needed to have a key or pass code to use the door.

Joey roared and leaped into the left side of the hallway to protect my back, and he grabbed them purple robes with his claws and flung those bastards to the floor.


He did not stop. He stood on their fallen bodies and looked for any one of them to raise a hand for a time-out. I think that he would have tore off one with his teeth if a single hand arose.


Katheena flew into the kitchen; landing near one of the knife blocks on the chopping table.


She stood and grinned at those scared, rich assholes. “Come get some of this you fuckers!”


She looked down at the knife block, and wrapped her hands around steely wood. She flashed those blades in the air, around and over her head, like a ninja chick or someshit. And then she charged at the cowering crowd.


Me? I dove to the floor, rolled, and then I jumped at them, Docs forward.



What the fuck was I doing?



I was joining in the fray, entering the melee, which is a French term that here describes, “Eat my heels, you bastards.” I landed on the chests of those who would do us harm.


I rolled back onto my front, and felt the come down begin again.


Fuck.



I shouted, “We gone! We out!”


Those two appeared in right in front of my face, and Joey said, “There’s no time to line! What do we do?”


I shrugged and looked down the hallway to the exit door. “We make it rain, and we bail.”


We stumbled over those who were getting back up as I led the way to the servant’s entrance, which exited on the farthest end of the courtyard from Katheena's ride.


We would have to run past them chauffeurs to get to Katheena’s escape vehicle, which she had named “Orion.”



You knew, back when I told you that Minacca’s mansion was built like a friggin hotel, well, there were fire alarms along the walls of the hallways.


They were everywhere, if you recall.


As we exited that fucked up place, I stopped at the last one on the way out. I broke the glass, reached in, and I pulled down the lever. A spray of indelible red paint exploded on my hand and misted over my two cohorts behind me, on their right sides.


It began to rain from the extinguishers overhead.



Pray for rain in the desert. It chust might come.





Inside.




Inside a lovely, old mansion that held all sorts of rich pigs, many who were up to no good.


We would find out many things, and you will as well, if you care to continue along this ugly path that will lead to redemption.



If you have been reading this far along, then I know something about you.



By now, you know many things about me.




Thank you for following me on this path.




Check this out, my friend:






Minacca was wrong.



We three punks were not the evil ones.




Nope.



But, why did she not have a clue, such a brainy chick?






We baptized that hell hole, that fuck of a place.








Except, we had left Sean behind.







FUCK.










----------------





God Help You.


God Help Us All.




---willies out.










A Find From Dotta:










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