The Walkin Killings Pt. 12 Lion

The Man Outside Of His Tomb sought a burger.

The Walkin we know as Seen was busy with the No Eyed Man.

In the midst of all these separate but soon to be united threads that occurred in the space of thirty-six hours, well…

You may want know a bit about the imminent threat…

Trust: it is coming together, baby.

THE PURPLE ROBES 






OF FUCKNO

Old Devils, by William Elliot Whitmore.. 

A large enclave of immigrants from what was once known as the country of Armedmenia had infiltrated the megalopolis of Fuckno back in the fifties, in order to escape their persecution by the invading armies of Russkia.

They brought along with them their religious beliefs, because here is the only country that accepts them all.

Or, supposedly so.

The Armedmenia were not evil in their own right, but they had survived centuries of such hardship upon them, and this made them hardened.  It also made them wary of others. It is awfully dismissive to judge a people by the evil actions of a small sect.  But it is perhaps correct to judge those who create havoc to be, indeed, evil.

These were the Wearers of the Purple Robes.  This is the start of this part, how it begins.

The Purple Robes had led to the Death of Katheena.

My Star.

I just didn’t know it yet. 

When I found out from Joey what had happened to her, it changed everything.

THE RETURN 

OF 

THE LITTLE LION MAN

The young man adorned with only a knitted afghan bed cover pulled me away from the smashed window and whispered, “Mr. Will.  We don’t have any weapons!”

That was true, but there were two of us, me and him, Tellesco.  However, we had no idea what this individual might carry as weapons.  All we had were cans of food from the pantry, and knives from a kitchen drawer.

But you know, you should always fight for your life.  Solid cans can be flung from a near distance, or course.  And if that fails, then knives can be used in close company.

The thing about using a knife is that you will know your enemy at a very personal level.  You will smell his sweat, and even his fear.  You will find out many things about your enemy from such close contact.

So, we two would have to arm ourselves with projectiles and sharp instruments of pain and death.

At least, if things turned out well.

So to speak.

One was naked under an afghan blanket knitted by someone dear to him, and me, I was in a leather jacket and boots.  Always mind your leather.

I crept up close to the sink and peeked over the edge of the window that still held shards in it from the blast of the liquid propane gas tank from Fat Jerry’s destruction of the once-stately ranch.

The figure paused at the burned structure out there, close to the dirt road, across the algae-ridden swimming pool from us in the small guest cottage.

You know, there was a drowned hearse in the pool now.

The figure swung his light about the charred wooden studs that pointed at the sky in the night like accusing fingers at the forsaking god above them.

I could see him shake his head in the glow of his flashlight.

Perhaps he would go away?

I turned back to Tellesco and said, “Get those cans of food, as many as you can, and bring them back here.  I’m going to get the knives out.”

Tellesco snuck back to the pantry door and disappeared.

I took another peak over the top of the window sill and the figure swung his light around.  The light swung slowly about, examining the back yard, and came back over to where we hid.

The light flashed in my eyes, and I dipped down.

I heard this:  “What the fuck?”

It was time for war.  I felt a burp of puke coming up, and I swallowed it back down.

Tellesco crept back out with cans in his knitted afghan that he wore, and he shouted, “OW!”

He dropped all of the cans and they tumbled onto the floor.  He screamed, “Mr Will!  I got a cut on my foot!”

Evidently, he had not swept up all of the broken shards of window panes well enough.


The light steadied at the kitchen window, and I heard this:

"Ow, Mr. Will?      Is That You Tellesco?  Is that you, Weeeeeee-ill?   Holy Fuck!"

It was the Little Lion Man.

He had returned, indeed, to the beginning of the destruction of Fuckno, where this all had started.

I could have cried.

You know, I would, when I found out what Joey had to tell me about my Star.

Katheena.

And then there would be hell to fucking pay.

See you on the weekend, my friend.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

Start Wearing Purple, by Gogol Bordello. 

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