Six Treacherous Journeys

Dan Tabor
Copyright 2014, LuLu Publishing
*Dedicated to my late friend Shawn Pendleton for penetrating my dreams
and Bret Charbeneau for giving a free laptop to a homeless writer who
refuses to quit.
Old Man Frankenstein
Old man Frankensteinshow us your monster facecome out, come out
from beneath your caveyou old fart!
The small band of neighborhood tyrants cursively dared.
Jimmy Blanchard, the biggest and most bullying of the group of
neighborhood hooligans playing hooky from Clay Middle School picked up a
fist sized rock from the unkempt garden of never tended weeds, worn
buckets, decaying wood and lime infested rock bordering the historical
Colonial Blue Chapin house on Riverside Drive which quite a few season's
worth of grass and decades of muck walled almost as tall as the shortest
posse destructive runt under Jimmy Blanchards army of vandals, Eddie
Ransburger.
You freaky Frankensein, why dont you take better care of your yard? Take
this!
The heavy black rock whiiizzed in the wind mightily, scaring off a pack of
birds formerly singing happily. Jimmy really put the mustard on his
destructively determined fast ball, sending the rock completely through the
glass window pane of the front entrance.
Wholly shit, ruuun! Another boy shouted.
The shattering of the glass repentantly froze little Eddie Ransburger in
cement shoes. Not so shocked over neighborhood bully Jimmys behavior
toward destruction, but instantly felt bad for Old Man Frankenstein. Eddie
was a good lad.
Eddie lets go or Frankenstein will eat your face like he did MRS Hollys
chihuahua last Halloween. His best friend Pete called back while in full stride
just behind Jimmy.

Hey dumbass, why did you break that freak Frankensteins window?
Blamed Jimmy from a safe distance away. Youre dead now, you little gimp
runt. He further mocked.
Something was majorly out of place for Eddie as his conscious kept him
frozen, unable to run away. He felt bad, almost personally guilty even if it
was Jimmy who threw the rock through the window pane. An guilt-byassociation tied into a further dwelling deep innerness of compassion. He
wanted to approach the rickety, unsturdy front porch to clean up the mess,
maybe even apologize for all the teasing and taunting Jimmy forced all the
younger kids in the neighborhood to join in on and tell Frankensteineeerr
old man Finkle where Jimmy Blanchard lived so his parents would ground
their son and pay for the damage to the window.
Are you nuts? See you at your funeral! Pete called back lastly just before
all the boys disappeared from view on the safer side of hilly Angela
Boulevard, heading directly toward their merry little cave in the woods
behind Saint Joseph High School. The subtly perfect elusive confines of the
old railroad trestle hovering high above The Saint Joseph River.
I reckon I am (nuts). Eddie thought to himself, advancing toward the creepy
run down squalor. Every limb began to quiver as he gradually approached
the dilapidated house from the street curb.
It was quite a battle poking through the mesh of overgrown brush
surrounding and obscuring the porch area, but after a minute and a half, his
small frame managed to loudly creek the fragile staircase onto MR Finkles
porch.
Eddie was visibly shaken by anyone inside who would suddenly rush out to
eat him. Just this past Halloween some kids at school swore they witnessed
Frankenstein eat MRS Holly's chihuahua during the witching hour of ole
Hollows Eve. During the Fourth of July back in 2005 several businesses
downtown were looted and set fire by an unknown arsonist, including a
popular local bakery that was a targeted bank back in John Dillinger's time.
John Dillinger robbed it back in 1934 and one civilian even lost his life during
the getaway. Some older teenagers from Clay High School enjoy cutting
across the woods behind Holy Cross after a Friday night football game, drink
beer and dare who can have sex the closest to the house of Freaky
Frankenstein without the Devil emerging to possess them-or far worse-curse
their soul to Hell upon a soon-to-be untimely death. Graffiti is a regular ritual
aswell and not even The South Bend City Development Board requests old

man Finkle clean up or repair his home due to the frequency of vandalism
each year from attacking chief juveniles like Jimmy Blanchard. All anyone
knows is he is an old World War Two Veteran-a genuine front lines 'Zombie
Squad' Marine-who is rumored to have half his face and skull surgically
altered with metal. Hence the folklorish nickname 'Frankenstein'. Aside from
MRS Holly's dog allegedly being devoured, only MS Cratz of the Catholic
Church down the road on Michigan Avenue has ever actually seen Mr Finkle.
Her church outreach leaves boxes of groceries and clothing during Holy Days
on his porch. Blanche Christina, the local librarian will send more trust worthy
town teenagers and college interns a pile of books, newspapers and
magazines to Mr Finkle, however often they don't arrive due to everyone
fearing both he and the spooky house entombing him.
Just a few feet from the crime scene, Eddie decided to call out to MR Finkle,
hoping it would spare him his life.
"Mr Finkle, I know you aren't a monster. It was Jimmy Blanchard who threw
the rock that broke your window. He's a big bully who forces Pete and Me to
tag along or we'll get a pounding. I see you have a broom out here on the
porch, so I'll just clean up what mess I can and once again Sir, I am truly
sorry for being around when Jimmy decided to show his ass today, Sir."
Not a peep exerted from inside the house. Eddie grabbed the old, mangy
broom laying face down in a mound of dirt and leaves. Just like the
surrounding landscape and disrepair of the house, it too hadn't been used in
quite some time
"Just going to sweep the glass off the porch so no one cuts themself, Mr
Finkle. I hope that's ok with you?" His fear sensationalized. "Jimmy lives in
that white house for sale on Northshore, Sir. His parents will probably scold
him and pay for the window if you contact them. Again Mr Finkle, it wasn't
my own fault or Pete's intention to do any harm, Sir."
The eerie quiet-aside from the continual creaking old porch boards jutting
from every step-only surged Eddie's sixth sense that something even greater
was about to happen. He could feel eyes upon him but clueless as to where
or who was watching him. He swept up not only any broken glass shards, but
the entire porch of all the weathered dirt and muck and attempted to look
into the broken window, but was too short to do so. When he was a baby his
alcoholic and drug addicted Mother Alexa often prostituted herself to bikers
and the more seedier criminal element in South Bend who drank and dealt
within the dark atomicity of The Seahorse Bar. One evening a duo of Hell's

Angels lost some cocaine and accused Alexa of stealing it, so they brutally
gang raped her and forced her to watch one of the vicious beasts crush her
toddler Eddie's legs with a motorcycle. Even at age eleven he will never grow
past four feet, four inches in height. The brutalities inflicted upon him as a
baby also damaged his spine, though through several years of physical
therapy he can still hobble and occasionally half jog miscued and quite off
balance.
"Your porch is all clean now MR Finkle. Guess I'll be heading back home now,
Sir. Again I apol..."
A solid hand ripped through the thick wall of brush behind Eddie and firmly
gripped his shoulder. It happened so fast he couldn't scream for help nor
react physically. Eddie simply fainted from where he stood as those same
cement shoes from before placed him right into the hands of Old Man
Frankenstein.
***
Inside the creepy house was a secret lair of wealth, mystery and intrigue
Eddie delighted over while sipping the best hot cocoa he had ever tasted. It
turns out-though an abnormally tall man-MR Finkle was no more a monster
nor possessed a metal 'Terminator' face as has been long time rumored in
South Bend, but a thin, older gentleman of much congealers. He was dressed
in a vintage, but impeccably clean smoking jacket and loved cigars and
antiques. Every room of his house permeated surprise millionaire or in the
very least, a lifetime high end picker of true fortune. From artistically lavish
Persian rugs flooring every inch of the house to literally dozens of antique
clocks, ivory statues, gold framed art, Roman and Greek statues that looked
as though they belonged in The Smithsonian to even a desk once owned by
Winston Churchill. Eddie's eyes bulged with increasing delight when MR
Finkle gave him a tour. The two quickly became friends, talking for hours that
particular Sunday afternoon as Eddie was shown marvelous artifacts from
The Civil War, World War 2, and swords used by George Washington and
Rochambeau at the battle of Yorktown in 1781.
Who would have ever guessed such history and wealth lay inside the
withered old house occupying Frankenstein?
"So where did you find all of this? Boy, you must be loaded. "Eddie further
amazed.

He particularly liked a framed piece of noose that hung some of the

conspirators involved in the Lincoln assassination, aswell as two Wild West
pistols believed to have belonged to Billy The Kid.
"Well Eddie, I'll tell you but you may not believe me." MR Finkle replied. "Why
don't we sit down to another cup of hot cocoa, you may want to be seated
for what I have to share.
MR Finkle returned with a silver tray that had roman inscriptions on it, along
with art of angels.
"Wow, that's pretty. Where is that from?" He amazed.
"Well, I wouldn't want to frighten you Eddie, but this is the very tray believed
to have held the decapitated head of John the Baptist over two centuries
ago. You may already be familiar with the story, as history tells Herod had
imprisoned John because he reproved Herod for divorcing his wife Phasaelis
and unlawfully taking Herodias the wife of his own brother Herod Philip the
first. On Herod's birthday, Herodias' daughter Salome danced before the king
and his guests. Her dancing pleased Herod so much that in his drunkenness
he promised to grant her anything she desired, up to half of his kingdom.
When the daughter asked her mother what she should request, she was told
to ask for the head of John the Baptist on a silver platter. Although Herod was
appalled by the request, he reluctantly agreed and had John executed in the
prison. There are still faint traces of blood near where the four cherubs are in
the center, just to the right."
Eddie quickly removed his cup of cocoa to gaze further with utter
enthusiasm.
"Hey yeah, I see it. Wow, why don't you sell this to a museum, you'd be
richer than Bill Gates."
MR Finkle chuckled. Be right back, believe it or not I have something even
more impressive than that to show you.
Five minutes later he returned with a large leather suitcase and upon
opening it placed it on the floor between he and Eddie and John the Baptist's
dried blood. Unlocking the case with a golden key he wore on a chain around
his neck, MR Finkle opened it to display a variety of scientific wire and bulbs
and other unfamiliar, sprawled components.
"Gee, what's all that MR Finkle?"

"Actually Eddie, my real name is John Titor. Perhaps you've heard the name?
Hmmm?"
He looked at Eddie causatively, but Eddie just shook his head to the
negative.
"Well good then, I'd actually prefer the community of South Bend Indiana to
know me as Frankenstein than by my real name."
Eddie was even more curious.
"Are you a bank robber?" He cautiously queried further.
John Titor chuckled enjoyably again. "No, no Eddie. I am not a criminal. Well,
not per say this century.
This confused Eddie further.
"Eddie, I hope you'll keep this a secret between you and me. You no longer
fear me or believe I am a harmful monster do you?"
Eddie shook his head to the negative again. "Not at all MR Finkle...I mean MR
Titor. I find you fascinating."
Titor smiled back warmly. "I find you fascinating aswell Eddie and although
you wont understand just yet why I've selected you from all the others in
South Bend, I assure you it is by no accident we are here together now. Allow
me to explain further. Although almost in my late sixties in the current year, I
am a time traveler from the year 2036. I am here in 2007 because I have
something I need to rectify-something very karmic and personal at the same
time-call it repentance-that I did a very long time ago as a naive and foolish
young man here in South Bend. I am unable to return home to 2036 until I
have corrected this misdeed of mine and quite frankly, remaining here in
2007 does not suit me. Both Earth and man will experience much calamity
and civil war in the coming decades Eddie, however I believe you are a very
special lad who will play a key role in establishing civility to mankind in the
future, especially when an adult. Not to mention your already steadfast heart
and compassion exhibited today when my window was vandalized, which is
infact the senseless act that brought us here together. Once I've corrected
my past mistake in judgment and horrific deed oh so many years ago, I will
deed this house and all contents thereof to your ownership, Eddie.
Everything you see all around you right down to the awesome hot cocoa
recipe from London, it will be all yours. I know much of this is still mysterious

to you, but all I ask is you listen and learn these next couple of weeks. It is of
the most crucial importance inorder for me to return home to 2036.
Eddie laughed, not mockingly but absurdly outlandish. Although MR Finkle
seemed benevolent and even hospitable, Eddie suspected an old, bored coot
poking fun at a younger, nave kid.
"Um, oh'kaaay MR Finkle. John, whatever you choose to call yourself. I think I
need to be going now, my... uh, Mother probably wants to yell at me or have
one of her boyfriends pick on me or something, so I guess I should return
home and..."
"Wait just a mere moment longer please Eddie, I can prove what I'm saying is
true. Name something, anything at all you've desired such as a comic book
or perhaps a sports card of your favorite sports hero and it will be beneath
your bedroom pillow upon returning home this very evening. Will that prove
to you what I am describing is true?"
Eddie chuckled. "Well, yeah...dugh!"
"Then name anything you desire, within reason. Battleships and air planes
and the like would be difficult to place under your pillow ofcourse, but for
instance who is your favorite sports athlete you've grown up to admire?
"Oh that's easy, Joe Montana."
"Good choice, the cool one. How about an autographed game ball from his
first Super Bowl victory with The San Francisco 49ers from 1981?"
Eddie laughed unbelievably again. "Um...sure, you're saying within the
fifteen minutes it takes me to walk home this afternoon there will be an
autographed Super Bowl football by Joe Montana beneath my pillow?"
"If that is what you'd like, Eddie."
"Well, to be honest I always wanted the very first Superman comic book, but
there's less than ten thousand of those still floating around worldwide."
"I'll make you a deal, Eddie." John Titor rose to extend a single massive hand
to shake. "If I come through with both the autographed football and comic
book will you keep me a secret first and foremost? Also will you come back
by the morning of your birthday next week to visit me again?"
Eddie shrugged his shoulders

"Well...sure, I mean why not if I'm getting all this free stuff. Can't say I
believe you John, but what the heck, all I have to do is walk home and check
under my pillow."
He extended his tiny, fragile hand and warmly accepted John Titor's
handshake.
"Oh, one last thing Eddie. Don't show your new football to your Mother or any
of her string of bad men. They'll only take advantage of you. Hide it deep in
your closet for the time being, ok?"
"Yes Sir."
"Calling me John will suffice just fine, dear boy."
***
"I can't believe it!" Pete Dohre crudely fascinated. "Three damn overtimes
and the fourty-four year win streak ends over NAVY. How the hell does that
happen here at Notre Dame Stadium? It's madness...an outrage!
"Go long before you have a stroke, Pete." Eddie instructed.
He introverted his venting over the shocking and unexpected Notre Dame
home loss to NAVY as he cocked back his quarterback stance to toss Pete his
autographed Joe Montana Super Bowl Football from 1981 MR Titor had
magically transported underneath his bed pillow a few days ago, just like the
crazy old coot boasted.
Pete caught the pass and then crossed the railroad tracks behind Holy Cross
College pretending he was dashing past defenders of an opposing team at
Notre Dame Stadium.
"Oh gaaaawd, it just occurred to me, we have to travel to USC this year. They
are going to absolutely kill us." Pete further frustrated. "It's all Clausen's fault
too. He really sucks!"
He then analyzed the autographed football again. "Wow Eddie, Old Man
Frankenstein actually gave you this? Why...I mean, what's he like...his house
and why is everything so secret between you two?"
"It's just that, a secret. He's no Frankenstein, just a uh...well, he's a kind old
man who somehow got an unjustified bad reputation. He keeps to himself
and collects antiques, I really know nothing more."

Just as the lie left his lips, Eddie faded in momentary thought over the
suitcase time machine and how peculiar but equally intriguing it was.
Pete tossed the ball back to his friend.
"So what kind of antiques? Fancy stuff like this autographed ball or more
boring stuff like my Mom watches on Antiques Roadshow?"
"Oh, I'd definitely say John...ooops, I mean MR Finkle isn't boring. The old
man just enjoys collecting antiques from around the world."
"Like what." Pete pushed further.
"Yeah, like what you friggin' geek?" A second voice suddenly startled from a
wooded area behind the tracks.
Jimmy Blanchard quickly revealed his normal hulky Neanderthal bulkiness of
intimidation. "Let me check that out." He ordered Eddie to surrender his
treasured football.
Pete suddenly ran a quick out route further down the tracks calling back to
his friend, "Quick Eddie, I'm deeep! I can out run him!"
Jimmy-at first-stomped the ground with his massive steel toed boots and
Clay High School Football jock quadriceps as if he were going to bull rush
Eddie, but psyched him out to suddenly twirl away and high speed directly in
the defensive path in front of Pete. Had Eddie not been fearful he would have
tossed a perfect bomb to Pete, but the fake out by Jimmy forced him to throw
too early and much lower than normal and Jimmy was thus able to fully catch
up where Pete was darting away and successfully seize the interception.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" He admired. "Joe Montana, Super Bowl
twenty-three...wooh-wee, this should fetch me some beer money tonight.
Hell for the rest of the year."
"That's Eddie's football, Old Man Frankenstein gave it to him." Pete nervously
protested. "You better give it back or Frankenstein will eat you!"
"Pete, shush!" Eddie cautioned. The last thing he wanted was Jimmy
Blanchard finding out about the lavishness John Titor possessed inside the
dilapidated house along Riverside Drive.

"Yeah Pete, shut the hell up you fucking little twirp. Get the hell away from
us, we have private matters to discuss." Jimmy ordered and with a single arm
shoved Pete hard into the ground.
Pete started balling at once and a moment later when eventually regaining
his feet at a safe distance away yelled back he was going to tell his parents
about what Jimmy is doing.
"Screw your parents, you whiny little brat. Tell your Mom I think she has a
nice rack and would love to 'cum' over with my beer next time your geeky
insect collecting Dad isnt home.
He then approached Eddie flipping the ball up and down, catching it with one
tremendous gorilla-like mit. "Geesh, what a fucking wimp." Referring to Pete
Dohre.
Standing right up to Eddie's face, Jimmy seethed heated impatience
downward as if a ferocious dragon.
"So hot shot, what's up with you and Frankenstein, eh? And don't go
attempting to lie or sell me any bullshit, I overheard everything you two
losers were talking about. Antiques hungh? I'm guessing worth much more
than even this football. Am I getting warmer, Squirt?"
Eddie tried to step back and whirl away due to his small stature, but Jimmy
just kicked him hard in the small of his back, sending him face first into
railroad gravel.
"Stay down, asshole!" he further bullied. "So what does old man Frankenstein
have inside that rattty-ass house of his? Is there a safe secretly hidden
anywhere? Look-ee-here fuck-o, you better answer me and quick or this gets
a lot worse for you."
Eddie managed to cradle himself into a fetal position, sensing more blunt
trauma to be delivered at any moment. The stomps from Jimmy's steel toed
Doc Marten boots cut several lacerations into one side of his face and
cracked a few ribs when repeatedly kicking one exposed side.
"Oh ok, you want to extend this further? Hungh, you pithy little nerd. Stand
up!"
Eddie was trembling severely, unable to stand under his own power.

Jimmy grabbed him with his free hand and shouted, "I said stand the fuck up,
you fucking gimp little midget."
Eddie's ribs ached mercilessly further with the forceful hoist of assistance.
"That's it, just stand on these tracks and breathe you freaky little worm.
Because once you catch your breath, me and you are dropping by Old Man
Frankenstein's house for you to formally introduce us. I wanna' see what all
he's got inside. As for your precious little fucktard football..."
Jimmy punted it far away from the tracks while Eddie bent to grasp and
barely tolerate his aching ribs. He could do nothing more than watch Joe
Montana slowly fly away from his own bucolic admiration as the football
sailed a great many yards out and then down a deep wooded ravine most
humans have most likely never previously trekked.

"Whoops!" Jimmy further taunted. "Guess I'll have to cash that in another
time. Start walking to Old Man Frankenstein's house, you little shit. I got a
feeling I'm going to be drinking Champaign tonight instead of Pabst. Move it,
fucko!"

Approaching the old house after dark was eerie enough without Jimmy
further pushing an already injured Eddie forward every half minute.

"Get going, Putz! You clear all the weeds and shit."

Eddie's ribs were too splintering to attempt to run away. As he advanced to

the porch all he could do was pray John Titor had a gun or could grab one of
the swords in his collection to really teach Jimmy a lesson.

But as they closed in, the earth beneath them began to rattle, then shook
more thundering, preventing them from climbing the fragile porch stairs.

"What the fuck's going on?" Jimmy mystified.

For the first time displaying his own individual fear.

More thunderous shaking rattled small Eddie to the ground and then
something even more peculiar happened, an enormous bluish white light
exploded through the broken glass window showering the entire front yard. It
all occurred within mere seconds and it wasn't consuming like fire, almost
like a ray gun from an old Sci-fi movie or laser from a 1950's alien B-movie.

Eddie was crouched into a fetal position again as Jimmy weaved and
bobbed sideways, eventually misbalancing and collapsing to the ground also.
Just as soon as it had occurred, the early evening and surrounding Earth
returned to normal. Not a wisp other than summer insects exerted.

Holy shiiit! What the fuck was that?" Jimmy mystified. His face was
complacently aghast.

Eddie knew it had to be the time machine, but why was John using it and
what would they expect once inside?

Eddie wasted no time grabbing the small crucifix his mentor Father O'Reilly
at Notre Dame Basillica gave him long ago when in physical therapy. It came
in handy back then concerning his Mother not having to prostitute herself as
much to pay the medical bills from Saint Joseph Community Hospital. A
catholic charity covered all expenses aswell as the local media and banks
setting up a fund when news of the story got around the community of a
small childs broken spine and legs. The biker was never caught though, nor
did the horrifying experience ever influence his Mother Alexa to clean up her
life to benefit her son.

He prayed a quick 'Our Father' and two 'Hail Mary's' as Jimmy made his way
back toward him to yank little Eddie onto the porch.

"Let's go fucko, you're on point asshole. Get your ass up and inside now."

Eddie complied with Jimmy following a safe ten feet behind him.

" MR Tit...I mean Finkle, it's Eddie. May I come inside Sir?"

"Just get your ass in there, dipshit." Jimmy advanced.

Eddie was hoping for John's sake the front door was locked, but it wasn't.
The two advanced inside the extremely dark living foyer.

Jimmy reached for a cigarette lighter and lit it, holding the meager flame up
as if a torch to get his bearings surrounding them. "What the hell?"

Eddie was surprised also.

The entire house appeared empty. Not only that, but possessed a sagging
roof, several holes and graffiti along the interior walls and was dusty all over
the place. Eddie was deeply puzzled.

"Yo Frankenstein...where you at Pal? I'm not afraid of you. Infact I am here
to rob you, old Poppi. Come out, come out wherever you are" Jimmy
taunted.

He ordered Eddie to walk forward while they searched the house. It was a
small place, two stories of ruined carriage quality, yet Jimmy was determined
through the fallen drywall and dust there had to be a safe or other worthy
hidden treasure somewhere. After returning downstairs to the kitchen
unsatisfied, he ordered Eddie to go down in the basement alone.

"Without any light? Eddie feared. There's no way to see if anything is

down there." He protested.

"Oh, I've given up on finding anything. Since you've wasted my evening and
now dont have that football to pawn for beer, I've decided to kill you." Jimmy
leered like a jack-o-lantern, placing the lighter up to his face, sneering like
the evil fucktard he is.

Suddenly a voice called out from seemingly nowhere. "Why don't you come
down yourself so I can eat you, savory Jimmy."
A chilling rush immediately consumed Jimmy, causing the bully to briefly jolt
in place.

"Who the hell is that? Where the fuck did that come from?" He wheeled
around his immediate proximity, extending the lighter to seek out the source.
The eerie voice continued.

" Its Old Man Frankenstein you pithy little coward. I am down here in my
coffin Jimmy, quite parched and thirsty for blood. Tell me Jimmy, what
happens to bad kids who torment others?

Jimmy began to panic by sweating and attempted to stand his ground as a

tough guy, answering back

Oh is that you, old man Frankenstein? Sooo, you think you can frighten me,
well guess what you fucking geezer? I am here to kick your ass and rob you
of whatever you got laying around this creepy dark fortress.
The voice returned,
Is that so? Well then, youll be most pleased to know there is a lot of gold
down here, but I bet you are too much of a pussy to fight me for it.
Tiss...tiss such a lonely little coward. Do your parents know how much of a
pussy their little Jimmy is?"
The deep, cooing voice further challenged.

The kitchen sink then ruptured, turning on all by itself. Eddie wasn't afraid
at all. That was John's voice alright. He was actually holding back from
laughing, He knew as long as John Titor was home, there was nothing more
to fear from Jimmy.

The voice now appeared to be closer, but still too dark to tell exactly where
from inside the house.

"Jimmy the rock, loves to suck cock. He bullies smaller kids half his age,
because he is a loser and will never achieve anything at all any future day.
What's the matter Jimmy, are you wishing you could go home and cry in
Mommy's comforting arms?"

A very loud bang thumped on one of the kitchen walls and accompanying
that was all the fragile, old kitchen cabinet doors slamming open and shut at
a frantic pace. Flickering... slamming...almost ear bursting as water now
seeped onto the kitchen floor in the form of thick red blood. Such a horrific
haunting disclosure that now rattled Jimmy Blanchard to his core.

"Fuck this, I'm out of here!" He extinguished his lighter and ran smack into
the door frame of the kitchen leading out into the living room. "Goddammit,
fuck you old man, show yourself!"

The collision fainted him to the ground and once regaining his feet, side
stepped the archway to light his lighter again.

"Gladly." whispered Old Man Frankenstein. He was dressed this time like a
vampire in striking vintage Bella Lugosi character. "Is this close enough for
you, little pussy?"

Jimmy shouted in utter panic and froze in place. Urine actually trickled
down his pant leg onto the floor.

Ivant to drink your blood, Jimmy and then eat you alive.
MR Finkle-Dracula-let out a mesmerizing bellow of laughter so outlandish it
appeared to derive from an entirely different dark abyss.

Eddie began laughing now full heartedly, despite the pain it impacted upon
his broken ribs. Dracula reached out his two massive arms to embrace
Jimmy's shoulders-who was frantically screaming like an infant-once firmly
atop both shoulders, He spun the terrified former bully a full 180 degrees and
magically hugged him from behind to elevate a couple of feet off the ground
and fly together down into the dark basement.

A deep, dark, volcanic laugh emerged half a minute later. "Muah-ha-ha-haha..I'vant to drink your blood, pretty Jimmy and then eat your face.

From inside the house the flash from the time traveler's suitcase was an
assortment of violet, purples, blue, red, yellow and orange. John had given
Eddie a pair of sun glasses-a hi-tech pair from the future no less-to help

shield his eyes before adjusting and cranking a few gadgets of the time
traveling devise to bring back all furnishings inside the house.
The entire process took less than thirty seconds and once the vibrating
stopped and all lit up colors vanished, John Titor's home was instantly clean
and furnished just like the first time Eddie visited.

"Wooooaaah! How'd you do that?" Eddie amazed.

"That's just part of the mechanisms of time travel, Eddie. Basically centers
upon the manipulation of atoms, to be precise. I can manipulate such atoms
by programming any radius of travel for anything or anybody and the
machine does all the rest. Let's just say I had foreknowledge about that bully
Jimmy, aswell as a suspicion you wouldn't be able to keep our secret." John
winked non-accusatively. "So prior to your arrival this evening, I
predetermined to set the radius for the entire inside of the house and sent
everything back to my other home in 2036. Well, really a large barn and
storage facility in Lincoln City Nebraska, but I couldn't allow anyoneespecially a brutish little hellion such as Jimmy Blanchard-know of me or
what I am here to accomplish.

"I didn't tell Jimmy anything! He forced me to come here tonight." Eddie
justified.

John Titor gave a hand notion for Eddie to sit himself and then sat across
from him on an antique love seat.

"You didn't rat me out to Jimmy, but you did tell your best friend Peter about
the autographed football and some things about me, I presume?" John
quickly noted.

"Just that you collected antiques, that's all. Heck, he still thinks you are a
much older man, even a monster."

Eddie then winced, accompanying his frown of disappointment in himself

with the immense pain from having cracked ribs. The odd, sideways posture
he was seated pained him further. MR Titor announced he would be right
back to dress a bandage on him and help clean up his scarred face.

"But what about Jimmy? What if he breaks out of the basement and sees all
of this and you and..."

"Right now Jimmy Blanchard is at home, screaming for his mommy from a
nightmare of this entire evening and wet his bed linens. This will all appear
as a bad dream to him and quite frankly he will now be the laughing stock at
school for being a known bed wetter."

Eddie trusted John completely and in about ten minutes was all stitched up,
cleaned up and feeling better in the previously soar mid section thanks to a
fresh cup of his favorite hot cocoa. John then sat down with Eddie to chat
some more.

"But if Jimmy is transported back home in bed and believes this is a

nightmare, then what happened? I saw you dressed up as Dracula and
actually lift him up and fly down into the basement."

"That's exactly what happened. Just after frightening Jimmy a tad bit more
down in the basement, I set the time machine to yesterday evening for
Jimmy to be transported home. Anything that happened here this evening
will register to Jimmy nothing more than a nightmare. But there is one little
adage that will involve you tomorrow, because once you finish your cup of
cocoa, I too am sending you back to yesterday."

MR Titor arose to retrieve a small Louisville slugger from a wardrobe in the

corner of the room. "Tomorrow after the NAVY Game, you Eddie will have to

deal with Jimmy all over again. He will sneak up on you and your friend Peter
along the railroad tracks behind Saint Mary's College and attempt the same
things he inflicted on you earlier today. Only this time Eddie, you now will
know what to expect."

John winked at him while handing him the pint-sized Louisville Slugger.

With this sharpie I am writing Jimmy Blanchard's name on it, along with a
small message that will clue you as to what to do, for once being transported
back in time, you will not remember anything that has transpired this
evening. This time Eddie, you can have the upper hand and keep that
autographed football Jimmy Blanchard is undeserving to take from you. All it
takes is courage and this Louisville Slugger, Eddie. Normally I wouldn't
advocate violence, but in the case of Jimmy Blanchard, I'd say he's well
overdue."

Yesterday, 7:25 pm

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He admired. "Joe Montana, Super Bowl
twenty-three...wooh-wee, this should fetch me some beer money tonight.
Hell for the rest of the year." Jimmy deprived the football from Eddie and
Pete.

"That's Eddie's, Old Man Frankenstein gave it to him." Pete nervously

protested. "You better give it back or Frankenstein will eat you!"

"Pete, shuuush!" Eddie cautioned. The last thing he wanted was Jimmy
Blanchard finding out about the lavishness John Titor possessed inside the
dilapidated house on Riverside Drive.

"Yeah Pete, shut the hell up you fucking little twirp. Get the hell away from
us, we have private matters to discuss." Jimmy ordered and with a single arm
shoving Pete to the ground.

Pete started balling at once and at a safe distance away yelled back teasing
Jimmy for being a bed wetter-after hearing the rumor all day at school that
Friday when he was absent from Patricia Hartman who lived next door to the
bully- and also he was going to tell his parents about what Jimmy is doing.

"Screw your parents, you whiny little brat. Tell your Mom I think she has a
great rack and would love to 'cum' over with...

Thwaaack...thud...thud...thwaaack!

"Hell yeah Eddie, kick the bed wetter's ass. Sock it to him!"

When Eddie woke up this very morning, he discovered the Louisville Slugger
resting next to him in bed. On one side was Jimmy Blanchard's name written
on it, on the other permanent marker stating,

'Be careful walking home after the football game behind Saint Mary's. You
will need this, have courage to defend yourself.'

Eddie didn't know what to make of it or comprehend how John Titor was
able to transport objects to his bedroom. But he fully believed John was

infact a Time Traveler and somehow this small bat held great significance in
his day.

Jimmy Blanchard was on the ground cradled into a fetal position after
receiving two hard swings to his knees and another two to his shins. Eddie
kept swinging and connecting with all the flurried little might he could
muster. After about a minute and a half, Jimmy was absolutely balling and
pleading for him to stop and Eddie-mostly due to being out of breathcomplied. He picked up his autographed football and gradually walked over
to best friend Pete.

"Take that you whiny little bed wetter!" Pete prided. "Boy, you sure turned
out to to be a wuss, Eddie just knocked you Da'Faaawk out!
Hip...hip...hoooray for Eddie, our new King!"

Eddie handed Pete the Louisville Slugger. "Here, since I'm King nowaccording to you-place this in a new museum in my honor."

The long haired, disgusting tattooed man seated at the breakfast table was
no stranger. Known in the gang and biker world as Snake Bite, because his
heroine was known to really bite China pure, occasionally seizure and even
kill. Eddie remained inside his bedroom whenever his Mother was whoring
herself to Snakebite and more needles. He particularly didn't enjoy sharing
breakfast with this low life creep, but his Mother always forced her son to eat
stale, sugary cereal each morning.
Alexa received an early phone call from Jimmy Blanchard's parents and she
was both mega-strung out and hung over and wound up shouting into the
receiver before sharply hanging up with a furious slam.

"Well maybe if you were better parents, your son wouldn't have turned out
to be such a little shit and bully others." She fiercely vehemented prior to
slamming shut the telephone on the dingy yellow sun flower kitchen wall.

Snake Bite paused from wolfing down the entire box of Eddie's Frosted
Flakes cereal to accompany Alexas urgency for a lid to start her morning. A
moment later, Her eyelids shuddered and she sank down into her chair for
several minutes.

"Woo-hoo baby, you gotz da funk!" Snake Bite laughed. He then proceeded
to reach across the table beneath her night gown to fondle her breasts.
"Yeah, we can get this party going early this church morning."

An hour later, after Snake Bite had more sadistic fun with her behind closed
doors in the master bedroom, she showered and then slammed half a fifth of
VO mixed with Pepsi and consumed several buttered and jellied pieces of
toast, along with three special k strawberry flavored yogurt bars.

"Daaam giiiirl, slow down a bit...snort...snort...The Snake don't like banging

no hippos. Naaaw, I like feeling your curves baby, let's keep 'em.
Woof...woof!"

Eddie wished he still had possession of the Louisville Slugger. He felt very
enflamed over this drug dealing, hippie vermin groping, slobbering and
insulting his Mother and desired nothing more than to whack his brains out of
his skull, right there at the kitchen table like Robert Deniro portraying Al
Capone in 'The Untouchables.'

She lit her fifth cigarette of the morning and then called for Eddie to come
to the kitchen to eat breakfast before kicking him out as usual each Sunday
morning to attend mass at Notre Dame Basillica alone.

"I don't feel good today Mom, my spine is giving me pain again."

She exhaled sharply and then rose from her seat, but not before washing
down the remaining fifth of of VO without any chaser.

"Lordy, don't I ever get a break?" She exhaled sharply again, quite
discontent.

Snake Bite echoed a thundering laugh that always irritated Eddie. It was
high pitched and always followed by sarcasm, once again soiling the entire
house with his slime.

"Hell, I just popped your little weasel a few minutes ago, Little Miss." He
continued to chuckle, simultaneously delivering a hard smack to her butt as
she walked by him to her son's bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway just eyeing her son for a minute, then took
another long drag from her cigarette. Eddie thought she appeared as if she
were just months from death from all the needle marks and bruises all over
her arms and shoulders. Her eyes were both darkened from all the partying
and alcoholism as if a raccoon and her teeth-oh god-browner and more
rotten than sewage. Always have been, they even routinely bled at the
gums.

"So I hear you finally grew some balls and really took it to that bully Jimmy
Blanchard. Good for you, is that why you aren't feeling well?"

Eddie paused, looking past his Mother's sickly frame in the doorway. Snake
Bite was lacing up another syringe of heroine beyond her at the kitchen
table.

"No, I'm ok. Just feel like I need to stay home and sleep in. My spine is
giving me pain and it gets real uncomfortable when walking and sitting
straight in church for hours. I was thinking whenever Snake leaves, maybe
you and I can go to Leeper Park and feed the ducks. Or maybe do something
else you like? Just the two of us."

She exhaled another long drag of nicotine and appeared flustered.

"Look Eddie, you are almost a teenager now and have friends like Peter
Dohre to hangout with. Hell, just yesterday you got to see Notre Dame play
and besides, I am already high and mixing alcohol with Xanax and have
additional company to entertain all day today. I'll see if Snake Bite has
something he can share with you to help with your pain, but you are heading
out the door soon, so get your tender little ass up and showered and dressed
for mass. Now if you would like to eat first, get your ass out of bed and eat. I
don't want to hear no more from you."

Tears began to well up in his eyes, but Eddie was growing this hidden scab
of toughness over the years. He just wished for once-just one time-his
Mother would love him like a mother should.

She returned to the kitchen to speak to Snake Bite and his grimacing smile
of coy cockiness. The beast within the cretin progressed toward lighting a
new high. He shot up from his chair to look across the way into Eddie's room.

"Woah! No shit, little man. You fucked up Jimmy Blanchard?" He reached for
his medicine bag atop the kitchen table and proceeded into Eddie's room.
"Good fucking job, Pal. That kid is a real asshole. I should know, I deal to his
mom and bang her huge tits all the time. Ha! What a hoot. Sure little fella, I
got plenty to help you with whatever pain you're in, but this shit is never
free, ya know?"

"Mooom, I'm ok.! He panicked, fearing all about Snake Bite. I just want to
sleep and rest my back. Can you please ask Snake Bite to leave me alone?"

Undeterred, Snake Bite was snooping around the bedroom staking out all
of Eddie's beloved sports memorabilia. Upon coming across the autographed
Joe Montana Super Bowl Football, He suddenly exerted a loud, long whistle.

"My-oh-my, Joe Montana, baby! Wow kid, where in the world did you get
this? She's a beeeaute."

"Mooom!"

Alexa rushed back into the bedroom. "What the hell is going on in here? Did
you help him with his back pain?"

"Not yet, but I will. For this autographed Joe Montana football, that is."

"Let me see that." she surged. "Where did you get this Eddie?" Her glare
was vicious.

"Um...from a friend." He flatly stated.

She handed the ball back to Snake Bite.

"Oh really? Well that must be a pretty rich friend of yours, because that's
something your own Mother can't afford, so who the hell is this rich friend of
yours I haven't met?"

"Um...well, Pete. You know Pete, right? Well, after the game there was this
usher at the stadium that his Dad knows and...uh, the usher had it and...

She crossed the room fuming, her face twitching with a rush of
instantaneous rage. Raising a full arm high up in the air, she smacked her
son hard across one side of his face.

"Don't you fucking lie to me goddamn you! Now tell me the truth or you are
going to be in far worse pain than you woke up with. The truth, nooow damn
you!"

Eddie could only cry and choke and sniffle. It absolutely killed him when his
Mother abused him. He tensed up, frustrated and balled some more.

Then a previous undiscovered flash of true emotions exerted and it was the
suppression of years of neglect and abuse that had to finally manifest
outwardly.
The truth!

"Here's the truth Mother, I wish I were never born! I wish I had a real
Mother, someone who loves me and doesn't beat me or have her ratty-ass
loser druggie johns pump me full of junk. Where I got the football is none of
your business, becuase I'm leaving. That's right, I'm running far away from
here where there are no more beatings or pain or tears or drugs or losers like
Snake shit-fucking-Bite. Fuck You both!"

She hovered over her son, reached down and shook him violently while
slapping and smacking his face and head several more times, cursing him for
defying her.

"Grab his legs!" She ordered Snake Bite and he immediately complied.

Eddie kept shouting "No...no...let go of me, I want to leave...nooo...let go of

me."

Snake Bite managed to eventually tie chord from the bedroom window
blinds tightly around Eddies feet and hands, then flipped him over on his
stomach face down in full submission.

"Guess beating up a bully made you all cocky there, little man? You've
upset your mom, pissed me off and now it's time to go nighty- night before
we have you committed to an asylum." He further crooned.

Removing the powerful 10cc's of heroine from his medicine bag, he first
hooked up Alexa to calm her down and coax her back into the bedroom, for
some fellow biker bros he invited over to share in some erotic fun with her
that afternoon.

All Eddie could do was weep and fruitlessly attempt to struggle. Every
attempt to break loose resulted in more agony. Especially on the inside,
crushed like shattered glass.

Snake Bite approached him with the syringe of 10 cc's, pure Asian heroin and
gloated while menacingly tying a rubber hose just above one of his elbows.

"Say nitey-nite to Snake Bite, You little warped freak."

June 13, 1989

The older house just off of South Bend's notorious Lincoln Way Street slum,
about halfway between downtown and the airport intensified with fueled
animosity. John, the Hell's Angel Biker had decimated precious four year old
Eddie Ransburger's birthday cake with one solid punch and then ripped
through the kitchen table toward the childs mother Alexa who was already
cowarding on the ground in dreadful mercy.

"No please...I don't know what happened to your drugs. I was with the both
of you last night, you know that. Someone must have snuck in when we all
passed out, please it's my son's birthday..."

"Lying cunt!" The second thug biker accused. He smacked her hard in the
mouth with a half full bottle of whiskey that broke the bottle, along with
several of her teeth and then the leader John mercilessly joined in for both of
them to savagely beat her down infront of the horrifying witness and
screams of toddler son Eddie.

Twenty minutes later she lay stripped naked on her child's bedroom floor,
viciously raped, bones and ribs crushed, skull fractured, anus cut and gorged
most sadistically, her complete face unrecognizable now even by her own
child as the two bikers scooped up little Eddie who was in sheer panic by this
time. The little tike attempted to bite the ear of one of the assailants, but
was defeated and then smacked hard in the head for such vicious youthful
audacity.

John bent down to shove her son within a breath of her near lifeless face
which was displayed completely swollen shut eyes, two broken cheek bones
and a severely lacerated face"Last chance bitch, where's our two kilos?" He
further demanded.

Her jaw was broken with another severe kick, along with most of her teeth
now being spat out just to cling to any single breath. Alexa was unable to
utter anything, even if she did know. Blood continued to spew from out of her
mouth. Her eyes connected with her son for a fleeting glance and then John
ordered his accomplice to drag her outside in the front yard to witness little
Eddie being run over by a motorcycle.

"We want our junk, cunt or your boy dies tonight!" Further he threatened.

Outside in the front yard it was a cataclysmic, cloudy and barren essence
just prior to the close of The Witching Hour. When John kicked up his Harley
Davidson Fat Bob, almost in perfect sink of rhythmic evil, lightning and wind
gushed. It was maddening, even beyond the brutalities being portrayed that
overnight.

"Jesus-f'n-christ John, what the fuck is happening?" The second biker

suddenly mystified.

The howling winds and lightning next flashed to the ground, but not as a
lightning strike, more of a glow...a mist...an angelic interruption of unknown
calamity.

"Just get her ass up on the porch to view this." John yelled back at his
accomplice from twenty feet distance.

He removed his attention to bend down to the left side of the Harley
Davidson Motorcycle to unclip his helmet and upon rising was mortified to be
looking square in the face of his doppelganger.

"Oh you lousy, wretched, lost, bitter, young fool." The elder John Titor lashed.

The biker registered total and complete ghostly fear. He attempted to back
off his ride, but fell sideways off the bike and onto his back, kind of kicking
for any ground to help him back to his feet again.

John Titor kicked over the Fat Boy Motorcycle and kicked it some more.
"Well don't you know John, I am you!"

The younger John Titor was yelling now, "No man...no this is a bad trip, this
can't be happening...no, get away from me man or I'll..."

"Wholly shit?" His accomplice astonished, frozen in place.

"You! On the porch, get the fuck out of here Snake Bite or Old Man
Frankenstein will eat your face." The elder John Titor ordered of the teenage
accomplice. His eyes glowed an ominous and macabre yellow and green,
almost laser-like. The second biker took off running in relentless panick to
flee.

"Come over here Eddie."

A current eleven year old Eddie-transported back in time- followed and

stood over himself, the innocent toddler from 1989 who thankfully had not
been killed by such monsters.

John Titor looked down at his younger, now fearfully shivering self as Eddie
baffled further.

"Eddie, this was me eleven years ago. I probably should have told you the
entire truth when we first met, but had I done so I wasn't sure what your
reaction would have been? I needed to right this incredible wrong from your

life and mine also inorder to return home to 2036. As the Universal Law of
Karma dictates, you may now have your revenge on me, on this foolish
young biker punk John Titor from Nineteen-eighty-nine. You have complete
and utter free will to enact your revenge for the harm I caused you back then
when a very lost and messed up soul. Whatever you choose to do to me...err
to him, will affect both my future and also you and your Mothers."

"But...I..."

"We have only a few minutes Eddie, you must act in some way to better the
future."

Eddie peered at the younger, death metal version of John Titor and then
before delaying any longer crouched to the ground to hoist the four year old
toddler to bring across the lawn safely back to his Mother. She was in real
bad shape, barely conscious as he lay himself-both younger and olderbeside her. She was barely able to reach out a broken forearm to place atop
her four year old son and when she gazed into the eleven year old version of
Eddie, her eyes widened like an owl. She still couldn't speak, but knew. Her
eyes studied him, his small frame, his spiny curve and hobble when he
approached.

"I love you Mother. Please love me in the future. You will live, but you must
change your life for the better and get clean. I love you so much, now and in
the future, please love me back."

Tears began to flow from her eyes when Eddie reached out his small hand
to clamp hers ontop of his smaller, four year old version.

"Life will be much better if you make the right choices." He ended.

The lightning storm started kicking back up again, as did the howling of the
mighty winds shattering the ashen witching hour. The elder John Titor was
now bowed to one knee grasping the leather jacket of his younger self and
really scolding a sermon undecipherable to anyone else but between them.
He shook and rattled the younger John and really lashed out at him. Then
released the terrified biker whose very lips were purple and shuddering
horrifically along with the rest of his body. And get a fucking haircut, you
maggot!

Yeeesyeeesyes Sir, yes sir!

John then turned to Eddie to inform,

"It's almost time Eddie. We will never see one another again nor will you
remember any of this. Your love has given way to forgiveness and I sincerely
thank you for being a very special lad. Never forget that Eddie, just how
wonderfully unique and special you are."

Eddie wanted to run to John but the colorful flashing lights engulfed him
and the entire yard and house and Mother and four year old Eddie.

"Always remember just how wonderfully unique and special you are!" The
last of John Titors voice repeated before a complete Universal white out
emerged.

April 7th 2014

Alexa entered her son's bedroom just before 6:30 AM. The massive, plush
room of the Knollwood home in the farming suburb of Granger Indiana
radiated bright hope this day for The Fightin Irishs redshirt freshman
quarterback recruit Eddie The Earthquake.

"Hey beautiful, wake up. First day of Spring practice has finally arrived." His
Mother gently whispered into her son's ear while gently rocking him awake.

"Oh, come on Mom just five more minutes, please?" The big teddy bear of
near manhood pleaded.

A knock on the front door of the mansion erupted. "Come in Pete, help me
get our boy out of bed, he still wants to be lazy." Called out Alexa.

The door opened and a very rugged, but handsomely trim and toned Pete
Dohre entered the house, making a b-line for the bedroom. Eddie was able
to snap awake and sit up just as his friend was about to leap high in the air
and land a WWF wrestling elbow on top of him.

"Yo man, coach Kelly said 7:00 AM sharp, let's move it! First day of Spring
Practice and the press will be there hoping to get a glimpse of Notre Dame's
great white hope defeating USC the next four years."

"I'll fetch you guys some power bars in the kitchen and some Gatorade to
take with you."

"Thanks MRS Ransburger." Pete appreciated.

"So what gives man, you seem off in a daze or something? Come on, get
dressed, we gott'a hustle bro!"

Eddie got up and dressed but then paused at the frame of his bedroom
door.

"Wow!" he exclaimed.

"Guys, out of the house now! Don't be late your first day, let's go, now, get
out of my house!" Alexa further pushed.

"What is it, man?" Pete edged further.

Eddie peered at his lovely, ravishing blonde Mother from his bedroom door.
She was the epitome of good health and beauty. Then he glanced at his
immensely hard trained muscled frame reflecting from his closet mirror.
Standing six feet four inches high, shredded with long time hero Brady Quinn
muscle.

"Oh nothingI uh, just had a really bad dream last night. It seemed sooo
real and...Pete, I mean, things were really different you and I were different
and my Mom, well...she was..."

"She's fucking gorgeous, man! We all grew up admiring her beauty and
spirit. Heck bro, she married Joe Montana, what do you expect? Now move
your ass Eddie Montana or Coach Kelly will make us do triple suicides and
make Jimmy Blanchard the starting quarterback over you this season. Can't
beat Michigan or USC with Jimmy as QB, he's lost to NAVY twice man. Let's
roll baby, the Eddie and The Cruisers era begins now."

"Let's go Irish...clap, clap, clap, clap, clap....Lets go Irish...."

The Underworld of Enchantment

The main living area of the small house at 97 Harvard Street in Bangor
Maine
suddenly frenzied into a desperate magickal happening.

"Judith Dear, see if you can find Momma's amulet and please hurry."

The twelve year old was successful in a timely fashion to assist her Mother at
the makeshift altar upon the living room coffee table.

"But Mother, what if Daddy comes back and catches us?" The little girl
feared. Her eyes suddenly grew sullen, displaying a tinge of fear.

Rosemary Fahs paused in the moment to console her beloved oldest child.

"Honey, right now finding Tabitha is our biggest priority and concern. Yes, if
your religious Father walked in on us I would probably receive another
beating. That is how religion is, especially Christianity. It seeks to attack what
it doesn't understand. Given the weather and how long your sister has been
missing though, we cannot just sit idly by. Do you remember the stories
Grandma Ida told you when you were Tabitha's age?"

Judith nodded to the affirmative.

"They are all true hun. Your Grandmother's genealogy, combined with The
Magickal Powers of the universe and our love for your missing sister can be
very powerful and effective, but we must hurry dear. Your sister has been

missing for almost two full days now and my psyche is giving me vibes she is
still alive. We must send her a spell of protection first and also must ask for
angels to guide her back home."

Once all the altar candles were in place and full colors coordinated
alongside a picture of precious, young four year old Tabitha, Rosemary Fahs
first recited a Celtic prayer for protection and then one for her daughter to be
warm, comforted and not fearful. Tonight's low temperature in Bangor Maine
will drop to single digits, it normally does by Christmas. The Holiday Season
also seems to draw out the abnormal lunatics and celestial moods of crazy
perpetrators seeking harm. Just two days prior Rosemary was shopping in
Bangor's quaint downtown with both girls and all were having a delightful
time. That is until lunch inside the wonderful antique shop across from the
bus station when a seemingly down on his luck, but friendly and harmless
homeless man asked Rosemary for the generosity of a bowl of soup at the
lunch counter. He looked quite disparaged, out of place and somewhat ill of
health, so being a charitable person, Rosemary granted the man his request
along with a tuna fish salad sandwich and a big piece of chocolate cake, to
which he was most delighted. Afterall, it was the Christmas Season and the
man appeared very pleasant and interesting to the girls in the form of an
enthusiastic story teller. Despite the frail, ruddy facial features he possessed
and quite a famished small frame, Rosemary joyed in the stranger's
remarkable gift for spinning enchanted tells of Irish folklore. Her own Mother
and grandmother immigrated to America in the aftermath of World War Two
from Poland, so Rosemary particularly enjoyed folklore of native foreign lands
her own children could learn. She-Rosemary-later grew up to attended school
at The University of Maine in Orono and upon having famed novelist and
popular Bangor resident Stephen King as a professor, later was inspired to be
a journalist in the Air Force where she met and married her husband Stanley
Maycock.

The stranger at the diner that day really captured the tickled interest of
Judith and Tabitha when he claimed he could make objects, animals and even
people disappear. Enchanted and naive little four year old Tabitha particularly
grew excited over such claims and after the stranger successfully made a
drinking glass, chair and even an antique desk disappear from all witnesses
inside the antique store cafe now viewing with timely applause his mastery

of illusions, it was Tabitha who quickly shot up excited to volunteer to be

next. Thinking back now, Rosemary deeply regretted allowing the stranger to
perform magic on her own child, but up until then it was all fun and games
and estimated to be nothing more risky than the always entertaining and
spectacular Cris Angel or David Copperfield stage act. She never fathomed
her child would literally disappear. The stranger also made it real exciting for
Tabitha as he lead up to the magic trick....

"So tell me Tabitha" He glared amazed and equally enchanted by the

child's intrigue. "In your own imagination and dreams, where is your favorite
place to go if granted to?"

Alice in Wonderland, Oz, The Hog School of Wartz, anywhere The Jonas
Brothers socialize, etc...Tabitha was quite the mystical dreamer.

"And what are some of the creatures you delight in concerning stories." he
also asked.

"Oh, I just loooove unicorns, faeries, gnomes and princesses with long,
shiny hair that glisten in the sun like rainbows. Beautiful princesses who are
daring and fun. Not the stuck up kind who work for my daddy."

The magician laughed and appreciated the child's cuteness running wild
with her fantastic mind, as did Rosemary and eldest daughter Judith. The
stranger had Tabitha close her eyes and then he gently draped a table cloth
over her to completely cover every viewable spec of her before reciting an
ancient spell from an undetectable ancient language. He also pinched some
unknown dry substance from his belt that housed a small oval canister of
some mysterious white powder and upon tossing it to the ground; grand
white sparks containing no smoke or flame tantalized all. A split second later
the table cloth covering little Tabitha fell to the ground and sure enough-by
all unbelievable eyes watching-Tabitha Fahs had seemingly completely
vanished just as with all the in adamant objects before here. First applause
amongst the now small gathering of fascinated shoppers surrounding the

lunch counter, then concern when the stranger claimed he couldn't bring the
child back, citing that due to her innocence and purity, her dreamlands and
wishes would magically manifest reality. The police were called to the scene
immediately, aswell as Tabitha's Father who was head pastor of a large,
snooty rich person's church located just down the street. Panic, tears and
more panic boiled over when MR Maycock lost control of his emotions and
slugged the unknown perpetrator, to which both men were arrested.

Rosemary produced a Rowan tree branch from a secret bag of ceremonial

items she often referred to whenever her husband wasn't home. All of her
ceremonies and spells had to be done in secret, for he was quite an
intimidating man of booze and anger. Most of his congregants were not
aware of their pastor's familiarity with the local watering holes such as Paddy
Murphy's and Geaghan's or the occasional tryst with a couple of their bar
maidens. Rosemary had heard rumors surrounding her husband's alleged
secret indulgences for years now, but the two had pretty much lived
separate lives of secrecy that both were content in their mutual secrets from
one another. Their marriage looked good every Sunday and Wednesday at
husband Stans church and Rosemary ofcourse remained in their marriage to
be one hundred percent dedicated to both her daughters, while Stanley was
all about delivering the big 'money sermon' each and every week. Her eldest
daughter Judith wasn't even Stanley's biological child. Rosemary was already
four months pregnant with her when they first started dating and upon
Stanley's honorable discharge from The Army just before Judith was bornfeeling called by The Holy Ghost to be a preacher-he proposed to Rosemary
despite their spiritual indifferences in order to appear full, no strike pastor
material and stable family man for his new church.

Quickly racing to hang the single branch upon the outside door of their
modest home, she then chanted while still outside in the bitter cold,

""The power of Rowan protects me and thee"

Her body was chilled in just the brief time exposed to the elements outside
and she quickly sought to light the rest of the altar candles. There was one

particular blue candle posed directly to the left of darling Tabitha's recent
school picture and Evelyn had to fight back tears aswell as negative sadness
energy attempting to consume her when lighting the blue candle. Always
faithfully supportive and loving eldest daughter Judith affirmingly dug into
her Mother's side with one arm hugging around her with her head turned
sideways into her stomach.

"Tabitha will be fine Mother, I just know it."

Judith had inherited both her mother and grandmother's clairvoyance and
together they recited an ancient spell of protection for dearly missed Tabitha.

Oh Light of the Moon,

Wrap Tabitha with comfort and safety
Protect her from negative elements and creatures of destructiveness
Keep Tabitha from harm

Rosemary moved the very powerful jewel and crystal amulet her own Mother
had given her upon first blossoming as a youthful teenage practitioner of
magick methodically around two adjacent white candles atop the altar table,
then back to her daughter's picture and light blue candle. She then recited
one more spell, this time alone after dusting a mixture of rosemary and
frankincense in a pentagram symbol around Tabitha's picture.

With this pentagram

Protection I lay
To guard Tabitha in all concerned ways
Both night and day
And for him who should threaten

No touch harm or beckon

May his body shiver and quake
I now invoke the law of three
This is my will, so mote it be!

Judith closed her eyes to harness every bit of Universal consciousness she
could absorb, then prayed for her sister's rescue aswell.

"Mother God of creation, Father of strength and courage, please be with my

sister and keep her warm and safe for I and Mother love her and miss her so
much. We just want Tabitha to be rescued and come home. Also mighty
Universe, we do not know who this man is or why he did this to Tabitha, but
we call on the powers of Magick, god and goddesses and all goodness that
his spirit will be one of change and even rescue. Thank You mighty mother
and father Universe for your power and Love.

The only change the mysterious stranger was receiving at the time housed
inside The Bangor City Jail was a grueling interrogation by Sheriff Kahler. His
fiery red German ancestry reflects his stern and highly respectable
reputation in the community for keeping the city safe and all criminal
perpetrators behind bars. Pastor Stanley Maycock wasn't charged for assault
despite breaking the odd man's nose infront of thirteen local witnesses.
Infact Sheriff Standard allowed his two chief deputies, Ted Hughes and Aidan
Reid to interrogate him further, privately outside of camera range in an
unused former broom closet. After two hours though, Sheriff Kahler was
forced to call in paramedics and schedule any further coercive interrogation
for another day.

"So, still nothing at all to who he is, where he came from or any other
needful information?" He asked his deputies.

Pastor Maycock remained at the station to include himself in the

conversation. All he could do was maddenly pace back and forth across the
small Police`Department foyer in an attempt to not completely lose his mind
and steal a gun to murder the incarserated suspect.

"No Sir, I'm afraid not." Deputy Hughes shamed. His face registered utter
regret, aswell as empathy for his church pastor. "I'm real sorry Stan, please
be assured we will all remain on duty twenty-four seven until Tabitha is found
and safely returned to you and Rosemary.

"Thank you...thank you all, I trust you will remain persistent and eventually
locate Tabitha before any harm is done to her by anyone."

Sheriff Kahler then inquired how Rosemary was holding up and offered to
dispatch two officers to the house if needed for further protection and
support. Pastor Maycock did not believe additional security was necessary
and stated he would be returning home soon to his wife after he hit Pete and
Larry's Bar to calm his nerves with whisky shots. All in the room understood.

"Excuse me Sheriff." Deputy Reid then approached. "But one thing does
mystify me, Sir?"

"What's that, Deputy?"

"Well Sir-and Pastor Maycock I hope you don't find my statement or thought
to be demeaning to you or your family Sir-but is Tabitha your biological
daughter, Sir?"

Deputy Hughes was the first to sternly erected his posture to lividly confront
his partner.

"Just what the hell would that have to do with anything even if she werent?
My goodness, this is Bangor's most well respected pastor and charitable
giver to the community. What the hell are you..."

"Hey, hey, hey, let's keep it as calm and collective and centered upon
finding Tabitha please." Sheriff Kahler interceded while preserving a brief
wink to stroke his proud 1970s throwback bushy mustache. "Stanley, you
ofcourse are not obligated to answer and Deputy Reid, I'd like to know
personally why you'd even fathom to ask a personal question of that
nature?

The deputy scratched his hairless face and again stated how he didn't
intend his query to be malicious in any way.

"Well Sheriff it's just the fact we have a grown adult who is obviously
transient who appears about the same age as Pastor and Miss Rosemary. If
and I firmly state if Tabitha isn't Pastor Bennet's biological daughter, that
would surely evidence someone else is Sir. That's all I am stating. Not
alleging, just stating that no matter how down and out and low to the core
this weirdo is, he sure can take a coerced interrogation without breaking, sir.
He is not a large or particularly strong man, nor does Bangor Maine receive
many transient travelers during winter, so what exactly fuels such strength
and rigidness not to break under pressure? Just what the heck is this guys
story? I do apologize Pastor, again it is merely a pondering and fleeting
thought as a police investigator, sir.

The room fell silent for an uncomfortable few more seconds as Deputy
Hughes protested his partner's approach a second time, then both Sheriff
Kahler and Pastor Maycock decided it would be best if everyone gathered at

nearby Main Street Pub to coordinate the next strategy toward searching for
Tabitha.

But before the men could exit and steady their nerves at the smaller, more
secluded local watering hole, one of the paramedics called in to doctor and
stitch up the transient suspect entered the room with quite a ghostly face of
shock.

"What is it, Louis? Does the inmate require emergency hospitalization?'

Sheriff Kahler immediately feared that scenario leaking to the press. Not for
the perpetrators own safety but if the old coot were to die while in his
custody he and his top two most incredible deputies would certainly risk
losing their jobs over the newsworthy controversy that would later backlash
and certainly persecute a one way ticket to prison terms for all involved.

"Um Sheriff...ah, yeah...I really don't know how to make of this Sir, but there
isn't so much of a scratch or bruise on your suspect, Sir. Atleast nothing I can
detect and certainly no broken nose, Sir. Are you sure you placed me in the
correct cell with the right inmate, Sir?"

The precious child awoke inside an unknown subterranean cave of warmth

and affection. Trickling small waterfalls cascaded across and above a
wonderfully crystal lagoon that shimmered sparkly diamonds. That reflection
of radiant white light and water further radiated love into several instant
rainbows that emerge as clouds each second a trickle of waterfall connected
with such heart piercing ambiance.

Tabitha was further amazed when looking down at a thoroughly laid down
bedding of straw-thick and cushiony blankets some apparent stranger had

made to accommodate her comfort. She was intrigued due to her last
memory being of the stranger Mommy had bought lunch for doing magic
tricks inside the antique store diner, but wasnt fearful. Stretching her arms
to yawn out the best night's sleep she's had in a very long time, ever since
being magically transported away and not having to share a bedroom with
her snoring older sister, her morning of unknown time-if it was even morningbuzzed with comfort and tranquility.

Is this wonderland? She thought to herself.

"No, actually precious one you are in a secret underworld called Nirvana,
which is protected by Lilith. No harm can befall you and there is nothing to
fear."

As soon as the unrecognizable voice further comforted her, suddenly a mist

of glowing beautiful faeries hummed the most soothing and angelic music all
around her. It exerted out of their wings and changed melodies to coincide
with their flight patterns.

"Wooow!" She amazed.

Occasionally one would break free and pause to levitate for a musical solo so
she could glimpse them more closely. Most were female in order to represent
a Motherly nurturing since she was away from her Mother, whom she loved.
Each faerie was not more than possibly eight inches tall-if even that-their
faces strikingly beautiful, reminding Tabitha of her favorite Hollywood actress
Charlize Theron. Some had curly, long blonde hair consisting of the cleanest
and most illuminating ambiance, while others held shorter perms of
delightful beauty. She was utterly transfixed by their allure and incredible
talent.

"Do you feel safe and trusted now, Dear Tabitha?" The ghostly voice called
out again.

"I do...I dooo..." she chanted, now giggling when one particular blonde faerie
stopped to wink at her up close and the wink sent out tiny twinkling stars to
kiss her face with more love. "But you're not the man at the lunch counter
who made me disappear." She was quick to surmise.

It was then the male voice manifested before her into the physical. He was a
small, nearly four foot gnome-like man who looked a lot like Santa Claus. The
faeries did a final sensational swarm all around Tabitha, each of the
approximately two dozen kissing a flood of warm star kisses to her and then
they flew off above and beyond the magnificent waterfall. She applauded
them while laughing quite entertained and said a quick thank you while
waving goodbye. She was utterly delighted.
His tender voice continued to console.

Darling Tabitha, you were transported here because your Mommy and
Daddy each have internal spiritual struggles they must work out together.
The only way to bring their attention to such resolve is to crisis what means
the most to them and you Tabitha are she. Your Mommy loves your older
sister Judith just as much, however your Father isn't her biological father. She
has a different Dah-dah and the only way The Universe could touch your
daddy toward fully accepting both truths and work positively toward resolve
was to remove you for a brief time until both your Mommy and Daddy
workout what they very direly need to resolve together. Once they do so, you
will be allowed to return home to them instantly just as you remembered.

She was amazed and understood perfectly, even at the age of only four.

"But who was that man at the lunch counter?" She queried further.

"Oh, that's Merlin. He is one of your guardian Angels. Ronnie is your second,
for all humans have two throughout their lives. Before you were born, Ronnie
was a very popular and beloved musician in what your realm calls eighties
metal and that was more your mother's era back when she was around your
older sister Judith's age. He elected to incarnate on Earth as a rock musician
for only sixty-seven years and predetermined cancer to end his life early,
despite the immense love and affection from millions of fans worldwide, all
for the benefit of being your guardian angel on earth, Tabitha. There is more I
will tell you of regarding him and you will not see he or Merlin again until
your parents have patched up their entanglements and destinies together.
aIt is then when you return home. Anything can happen here Tabitha,
anything at all. The Goddess Lilith is guardian of this bucolic underworld and
no evil, or darkness can ever reach nor harm you here. What would joy you
this day, precious one?"

She quirked her face while looking up at the waterfalls across the lagoon and
promptly stated,
"I would like to hear some of my Guardian Angel's music while in a canoe out
in that water closer to the rainbows and waterfalls.

The gnome-like little man smiled big, closed his eyes and gently bowed in
traditional Buddhist/Hindu accompaniment, then instantaneously teleported
both Tabitha and himself inside appealing individual wooden Native Indian
canoes close to the rainbows and waterfalls.

"Wooooow!" Tabitha amazed further. This truly is heaven!

"It is indeed, Miss Tabitha. Nirvana to use technical terms, but it is timeless
like Heaven and all dreams can be manifested into reality while you are here.
Are you ready for your Guardian Angel Ronnies music from his last
incarnation on Earth now, precious one?'

She shook her head to the affirmative, smiling big and then clapping her
hands when the lovely faeries returned to flutter it all around her with their
magical wings of utter delight and ambiance.

She's been gone since yesterday

Oh I didn't care
Never cared for yesterdays
Fancies in the air

No sighs or mysteries
She lay golden in the sun
No broken harmonies
But I've lost my way
She had rainbow eyes
Rainbow eyes
Rainbow eyes

Love should be a simple blend

A whispering on the shore
No clever words you can't defend
They lead to never more

No sighs or mysteries
She lay golden in the sun
No broken harmonies
But I've lost my way

She had rainbow eyes

Rainbow eyes
Rainbow eyes

Summer nights are colder now

They've taken down the fair
And all the lights have died somehow
Or were they ever there

No sighs or mysteries
She lay golden in the sun
No broken harmonies
But I've lost my way
She had rainbow eyes

The thrashing of the jail cell door under the stranger's macabre telepathic
power of cell # 6, a solitary confinement cell he had successfully managed to
teleport himself into after being placed intentionally in a general population
unit in hopes a few local drunks would violent get to him and finally persuade
the stranger to talk. But Merlin was gifted magically and would just place an
invisible barrier between he and any future attacks determined to do him

harm. His hair was long, a frosty silver covered half of his upper body, with
just his eyes and nose poking out.
His eyes were black, but always appearing methodical, containing a
metallic glow.

Sheriff Standard ordered both his deputies to rummage the local bars near
The Police Station to locate Pastor Maycock and request he remain at
whatever watering hole the pastor elected to intoxicate himself into another
near coma until he arrived to update him on what was happening at local
lockup.

"Seem to recall back in Salem during The Puritan era they hung witches by
the neck Sheriff." Deputy Hughes stated. Hughes was relentless when it
came to nailing a perpetrator. At any cost with no mercy granted. He was
also first in line to take over as Bangor Maines Sheriff if and when Sheriff
Kahler ever decided to retire.

Merlin particularly didn't like this deputy, so he decided to give him an

abominable itching head caused by scurvy. Deputy Hughes was a very
brutish, hell bent and stocky cop with a gluttenous alcoholic frame. During
his intitial interrogation, the stranger's scrotum was jabbed with the tip of a
cap less ink pen several times by this particular sadistic deputy and also the
evil bull tugged on the long strands of his wizardly goatee, causing severe
pain and slight bleeding when several individual hair fibers were intently
ripped out from his chin.

The magical stranger now smiled in gloating reassurance that he held

power over everyone and locked eyes on the individual cell door lock. He
stared at it with his eyes open for several seconds until a red laser beam
jutted outward from each eye fully exerting concentrative wizzardry by
melting the key hole so no one could open his cell door.

"Jesus-H-Christ!" Deputy Aidan amazed.

His senior partner Hughes began to unholster his side arm, a big, powerful
automatic which he fully intended to use to blow the head off of this child
kidnapping freak-a-zoid. But Sheriff Kahler quickly ordered him not to and
promptly back down.

"Ok, I see we are powerless against you and you-for some odd reasondesire to remain locked up in solitary. Do you atleast have a name?" The
Sheriff approached cautiously.

"Why yes, I am Merlin and your deputies' violent intimidation stops here or
I'll collapse every beam and brick of this police station on everyone faster
than Sampson."

"I think he's bluffing, Sir." Deputy Aidan spoke up. "Sir, I don't know how he
can heal himself or teleport within the blink of an eye from one cell to the
other or melt a steel lock using his eyes, but if he were to collapse this
building, he too would be crushed to death."

"Never underestimate a Wizard, sonny boy." Merlin sneered quite

confidently.

His sneer turned into and echo of non-verbal laughter, seedy, maniacal
laughter as if insane. Then the just welded cell door suddenly clanked open
again and slammed back shut and open and back again with thunderous
intent repeatedly.

"Get the heck out of here now! Locate Stan and notify me at once where
to meet." The Sheriff ordered.

"Stanley, I realize this is a very bad time to notify you of this and my heart
goes out to you and your wife, but I am pregnant." Michele Dyer informed.
She was smiling the remaining side front seven of her four missing teeth as
her face beamed.

She, Stanley Bennet, Sheriff Standard and both his deputies were gathered
together inside her office of The Luna Bar & Grill.

Deputy Aidan shot Hughes a look of shock and dismay as Deputy Hughes
covered his mouth with his hand to hold back from laughing.

Michelle Dyer was decades beyond tramp, slut, harlot or any other
derogatory tag one could muster. A well known cheap thrills hussie ever
since middle school and later at Bangor High School, before being
permanently expelled for having sexual relations with her science teacher.
She holds no formal college education outside of eight abortions spanning
just a twelve year period. She lost most of her teeth from jealous temporary
boyfriends, many of whom were biker gang members who frequented the bar
and now she was carrying the child of Bangor Maine's most notable church
Pastor, Stanley Maycock. Michelle had just one thing good going for her. She
was very beautiful, strongly resembling Kim Bassinger both before and after
seeking help from crack cocaine and meth addiction. And after an estimated
seven hundred lovers, one night stands, trysts, and group sex indulgences,
etc....Michelle had her sights on either Pastor Maycock leaving his wife for
the two of them to eventually marry and raise a family together, or to cash in
big time for Stan to buy her silence and a future ninth abortion.

The alleged father was stunned ofcourse over the further despairing news
and actually desired to cross over the desk where she was seated and
knockout the rest of her teeth, then stomp her brains onto the floor like raw,
prepackaged sausage. Thankfully for Michelle, Sheriff Kahler had entered her
office before this bombshell dropped and she was protected. She had fucked

the sheriff, aswell as Deputy Hughes several times each over the years
aswell.
Sheriff Kahler quickly asked Michelle to cater two bottles of whiskey and
assured her the department would pick up the tab.

"Sheriff, is there any new word on my daughter's whereabouts?" Stan

quickened with aching, dehydrated eyes.

"No Stan, I am sorry there isn't. I wish I had more comforting words or
atleast better news concerning a lead. I do wish that after we all deplete a
couple of fifths that you return home to Rosemary. Not just to console and be
with her during all of this, but I also need you to dig up some information for
me if you can, please?"

Pastor Maycock was deeply perplexed.

"Information from Rosemary? What...I mean, what on earth could she

possibly add to Tabitha's disappearance? Your deputies have already
questioned both She and Judith for over ninety minutes and my wife is just as
baffled as the rest of us."

Sheriff Kahler waited until everyone, including Michelle belted down atleast
three shots of liquor each before continuing. He then drew closer to Stanley,
bending forward to look him sternly in his eyes.

"Stan, I really can't figure out what's behind this stranger we have in
holding but he knows magic. I don't know what to make of it, but it's almost
as if he is some freakish alien or messiah or occultist. My deputies and I have
witnessed some amazing things, frightening things to be matter-of-fact and
the only thing that pops into my mind is the time we were called to your
house to settle a domestic dispute when you walked in on Rosemary having
a sance with her friends two years ago."

"Woooah! What kind of freakish things, Sheriff?" Michelle amazed. Her jaw
dropped several degrees southward with eyes glistening for any gossip she
could easily spread around the bar.

"Sorry Michelle, this is an active investigation and I'd appreciate you

remaining quiet while I directly speak to Stan, Please."

"Suuure Sheriff." She cooed while twisting a single finger to the side of her
shoulder length blonde hair, the same finger she had inside her lover
Stanley's butthole just a week prior when introducing him for the first time to
anal beads during their last erotic conjoining on the very chair she was
seated in."

"Stan, this is very important and I really don't know what to make of it or
who or what this stranger is? It's as if all of Stephen King's characters have
blended to manifest a demon or a witch or an alien whatever this guy is we
have in custody, we must solve what his relation could possibly be with
Rosemary before we maintain any possible hope of finding Tabitha."

"Weeeeeeeeeee!" Tabitha excited atop the lovely unicorn whisking her high
above streams and fences and rolling hills.

She had been riding all morning long after having breakfast with Snow White,
Alice from Wonderland, Willy Wonka and later planned to have dinner with
her Mother's favorite movie character Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.
Additionally she got to ride atop The Tin Man's shoulders and help lube his
shoulder arthritis with appreciative oil. The non-cowardly Lion played hide

and seek with her also and The Scarecrow used his straw so the two could
make Tabitha a special witches hat to show off when she returned home. It
was such a wonderful day for the joyful little munchkin.

"Here, all dreams are possible and everything is delightful." Her gnomish
friend of instant bliss faithfully served to please.

Meeting Lilith, the guardian of the underworld was her greatest adventure by
far. She was a golden, white shimmering spirit standing over fifteen feet tall
and quite angelic with the most loving, warm radiance of compassion. Her
face was absolutely stunning, a combination of the worlds top five super
models of all-time formed into one magnificent, eternal Eve.

Together they enjoyed a fine dinner of vegetable lasagna smothered with

three kinds of the richest Italian cheese known to man, the most healthy
organic herbs that Dorothy brought with her from Oz to bake alongside her
new friend Tabitha and all in all Tabitha felt more at home than even back
home in Bangor Maine, although she did miss her Mother and older Sister
deep down, just never thought of it much while playing with all her fantasy
friends in Nirvana.

"It shouldn't be too much longer precious Tabitha. Infact Your Father and
Mother are together at this every moment this evening working through what
they so desperately need to resolve inorder to heal, forgive and receive their
darling daughter back. In the meantime, how about we all bake a chocolate
cake together and invite Willy Wonka back to join us?" Lilith proceeded
toward more pleasing enlightenment.

Tabitha and her beloved unicorn-she appropriately named Blaze- beamed

smiles stretching the entire width of both their faces. That was something
that has never waned since arriving in Nirvana. She leapt up upon him once
again and clapped most chipper, nodding very appeasing in much concourse
to Liliths suggestion.

"So you mean to tell me the entire time I'm out looking for our daughter,
you're here at home dabbling in the occult? Rosemary, I thought we settled
this matter of witchery and occultism years ago. You promised not to involve
it inside our home anymore."

Stanley was absolutely lit with anger after coming home to discover
elements of a ritual performed inside his perceived Christian home.

Judith feared her Father's temper boiling over and attempted to intervene.

"Daddy, Mommy just wants to help find Tabitha too and protect her. That is
something religion cannot do!" She bravely spoke up after witnessing her
father break the coffee table alter and candles and really sling around some
formerly worthy living room furniture.

"You stay out of this young lady infact; you go to your room. This is an
adult matter to be settled between your mother and myself."

"No Stanley, she hasn't done anything wrong." Rosemary mustered to take a
stand against her outlandish husband. "Judith and I have prayed and prayed
and recited protective spells for Tabitha. Furthermore, if you are going to be
abusive and reckless then it is you who needs to leave this home! Neither I,
nor my daughter has to be a victim of your heinous abuse ever again!"

This infuriated a quite drunk and off the hook Stanley Maycock even further
as he wasted no time plunging across the living room intending to smack his
wife hard for defying him.

"No Daddy....noooooooo........STOP IT Nooooow!"

Suddenly a beam of white light exerted out from the outreached palms of
eldest daughter Judith and soared quickly through the air to surround her
Mother in a protective, encased bubble. Several small cherubs flew all
around the outside to further protect any assaults upon such pure White
Light from The Creator.

Stanley was stopped in his tracks, in complete awe of what he was

witnessing. Several volts of electric blue and whites currents sizzled outside
his wife's protective cave. He knew if he came into contact with any portion
of it, he would probably drop dead instantly.

"That's right Stanley..." his wife confidently told further."...Right here, right
now, the abuse stops! If you want to wreck your health with alcoholism and
be a hypocritical Christian who cheats on his family, then I'll gladly grant you
a divorce without any conflict or courts. Your little cookie in the city Michelle
phoned me earlier this afternoon to inform me you are about to be a Daddy
again, congratulations! Furthermore, Neither Judith or Tabitha are your
biological children, because just like your own cheating and liaisons over the
years, I too have entertained my own suitable erotic fulfillment and company
from time to time. So my advice to you is to pack your things and find a hotel
to stay at until I can file for divorce after our...I mean my daughter is found."

When The FBI was called in to sort out what to do with the Magikal stranger
creating quite a farce inside solitary cell #6, Merlin progressed his fun with

them aswell. Four agents showed up and one by one, they quickly left to
contact both The Pentagon and The President. The first fled after attempting
to question Merlin and quickly received an exploded ink pen from his
perfectly pressed white dress shirt's breast pocket. Only thing was the ink
kept gushing up into his face and upper torso as if a waterfall for several
seconds, then took an even further sublime and mesmerizing course of
painting exquisite art murals on every wall nearby. The other three agents
quickly drew their weapons to steady aim at the perpetrator and he decided
to magnetically thrust all three weapons from them while hovering them in a
group in the air and spinning them into dizziness. Whenever one attempted
to gain his feet again, Merlin aimed one of their confiscated pistols still
hovering in the air at their feet and unloaded several rounds of ammunition
to force the agents to dance. Merlin was laughing hysterically while clapping
his hands and even manifested a few circus monkeys with grinding machines
to play music during the dancing or seemingly never ending rounds of
ammunition. He then thought it best to incinerate two packs of cigarettes
two of the agents and both of Sheriff Kahlers deputies had on their person.
Those who kept their packs in their back pockets received second degree
burns, while those who had them tucked away anywhere up front, only first
degree. One federal agent's pants caught fire and he ran squealing into the
men's room to dunk his ass into a full bowl of toilet water. Merlin especially
found comedy in such and then manifested The Tidy Bowl Man to appear
next to the toilet rim, look up at the invading G-Man and bitch him out for
dirtying up his toilet bowl. More dancing, prancing, freakish shanannigans
and circus animals ensued. Merlin next decided to set all of The City of
Bangor Maines inmates free by instantly teleporting them inside the
terminal of The Bangor Airport. Upon appearing there, all were dressed in
fine business suits, clean shaven and given suitable hair cuts with a ticket
each back home wherever their hearts concerned. Just so Sheriff Kahler and
his deputies wouldn't be bored though on the job without any inmates to
bully, Merlin placed more animals in the cells. A gorilla in one, a baby
elephant in another, a Bengal tiger in another, a flock of owls in another and
so on until all thirty-two holding cells became the greatest attraction since
novelist Stephen King's last book signing at Bookmarc's Bookstore just down
the road on Harlow Street.

After fixing up an old couch in the hallway that led to his church office and
dozing off for a couple of hours, Pastor Maycock was jostled awake by the
loud sound of a trumpet. His head was ringing from hangover and his vision
was blurred, but he swore he saw a figure of a man walk down the corridor
just a few feet beyond where he lay and turn left into the dark sanctuary of
the church.

"Hey...hey, this church is closed! How did you get in here?"

His voice cracked out of both fear and dehydration. Kicking the blankets off
of him he stammered down the corridor after whoever it was who had
succeeded to break into the church.

Just before rounding the corner into the sanctuary, the flickering blaze of fire
shun into the corridor. It was extraordinary and for a brief second Pastor
Maycock feared arsonists had broken in. Upon entering the dark sanctuary,
on the platform was more fire balls and rocking blasts, conjoining with
several explosions that sounded like Revolutionary War cannons.
It took him a few seconds longer before spotting a musical band to the side
of his preaching podium, full equipment and amps cranked to almost ear
deafening level jamming hard onstage. The pastor hurried his pace now
toward the stage and singled out the lead singer with an accusatory finger.
The singer was a rather short man with very long curly black hair
transcending his middle spine, dressed in a sleeveless leather vest, torn blue
jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt.

"All's well at the midnight hour

You're ready to fly.... Don't think about the darkness
Or the rumbling in the sky....

Pastor Maycock placed both hands over his ears and wretchedly screamed
for the band to stop, but to no avail. More massive balls of fire erupted
upward, followed by chopping lead guitar riffs, thundering drums and
punishing bass combining to almost explode Stan Maycocks head like a
pumpkin enduring a blast from a twelve gage shotgun.

"...Somewhere on the morning road

Just waiting for you
Somethings that just could never be
Are calling up a spell so you can see, yeah!
Dream evil
The dark that you find in the back of your mind
Dream evil - Dream evil
Don't go to the edge of rainbows
Don't close your eyes
Like things that can't be real
The truth is really lies..."

"Pleeease, I beg you...this is a church, Demons be gone!" He furied once

again to no convincing. His mind now was bending, his very soulful will
melting away as more lead guitar and explosions and fire balls intensed.

"...Don't wish on a rising star you should

Open up the door
Where things that just should never be
Are calling up a spell so you can see, yeah!
Dream evil

The dark that you find

Can come out of your mind
Dream evil
Take you away
Oh no it's the midnight hour
Don't leave me alone
Those things that just should never be
Are calling up a spell so you can see
Dream evil....Dream evil.....Dream evil...."

"Noooooooooooo! Stop it, please Lord Jesus stop this nooow..."

Dream evil...Dream evil... The lead singer further seduced into the loud
microphone.
Oh no it's the midnight hour
Don't open the door
Don't go to the edge of rainbows
Don't sleep any more

Pastor Maycock collapsed to the ground, his pleas of mercy and divine
intervention failed. He could only lay upon his face and smack the ground as
his ear drums bordered bursting into a million pieces..."I'm sorry God...I have
been such a mess...I am sooo sorry. ..Please forgive me! I am wretched man
and a hypocrite...such a pile of shit...please God help me, I am sooo sorry for
all I've taken for granted, forsaken and abused..."

You'll dream evil...You'll dream evil...You'll dream evil...Dream evil.

And just as sudden as his defeat and cry out in repentance for forgiveness
ached, the band ended with one sharp guitar shriek. Only the slight sound of
the drummer setting down his drum sticks could be heard outside of the
pastors immense sobs.

The lead singer jumped down from the stage onto the floor and reached out
to place a gentle hand on top of Stan who was still traumatized. He was truly
a broken man now. Still crying, choking out whimpering, mild but heartfelt
thanks to his God that his ear drums and head didn't explode. More so all the
agony this fraudulent, cheating, drug addicted man so desperately desired to
rid for cleansing, forgiveness and renewal.

"Hey man, its ok You'll be ok. Brother. Take it easy, man. Deep breaths" The
lead singer consoled.

When Stan looked up at him he appeared monstrous in the face, but his
words and gentle touch were very consoling.

The singer ordered one of his band mates to fetch the pastor a cup of water
and after quenching his parched throat, Stanley felt humbled, yet reassured
he was safe.

The lead singer crouched to a seated position onto the floor just a couple of
feet from where he Stan laid on his side.

"Hey preacher man, you've done some really bad stuff in your past, but The
Universe forgives you, man. Had it not, we would have exploded your ear
drums and head and you'd be with us in the afterlife taking classes on just
how much you fucked up your contract here on earth."

Stanley didn't follow what the singer was relaying to him, he just felt
relieved, but also inquisitive.

"Who are you guys, anyway?"

"My name is Ronnie, brother. That's Ronnie #2 over there on bass, Vinnie and
on drums and on guitar, no other than_______, man. If you had any legs
beneath you, youd respectfully bow. I am your daughter Tabitha's guardian
angel, dude."

Upon hearing his daughter's name, Stan immediately rose up to a seated

position, locking eyes with Ronnie.

"My daughter...is she ok? Where is she? My, I have been sooo worried, please
tell me she is ok...I beg you!"

"Woooe, relax man. She's just fine. Tabitha is in Nirvana and having a blast.
Just like you Christians believe in a Heaven, Nirvana is somewhat similar. She
is very warm and safe and happy there, I assure you. But you can't see her
until you and your wife Rosemary workout all the snared chaos in your
marriage. Believe it or not preacher man, both Tabitha and Judith will need
the both of you to stay married and together inorder for them to complete
each of their life purposes here on earth, man. Its as simple as that, brother.

Stan became somber again, dropping his head when thinking about all the
years of abuse and scorn he had inflicted on his wife.

"You love her, don't you?" Ronnie asked.

The pastor nodded heavily to the affirmative, then began weeping in remorse
again.

"I do...I truly do...God, I have been such a mess and bad husband. Sooo
regardless, abusive and disrespectful and really haven't given a shit about
my family in a very long time."

Ronnie placed another consoling hand atop Stans shoulder.

"Hey brother, welcome to being human, man. Look dude, none of us are
perfect, not a single human ever on the face of this earth. Not even your
professed Jesus, man. That cat was a Buddhist, actually. Hate to break it to
you. But not I, not you, or Jesus or Mother Teresa or perfect, man. You truly
love your wife and family and yes, you were a real heinously cruel mother
fucker for a long time, but your head didn't explode man. That's about the
surest sign from God that there's still hope for a more optimistic tomorrow."

Stan dried the tears on his face with both palms, sniffled a few times while
taking it all in and then asked what to do next?

"Preacher man, I think it's a no brainer concerning you and your wife, man.
Pardon the badness of that pun concerning your head almost exploding. You
love your family, yet you are here alone in darkness in a drunk, fucked up
stupor feeling like shit until you dried out and repented. I believe that mancreated bible you whip your congregation with describes a clean slate and
new wineskins, brother. Let that be you fuel and road map. Guess what your
wife Rosemary is doing at home right now? Shes on the phone with your
mother crying her eyes out over the thought of not having you as her
husband. Take a clue pastor dude, your family still loves you despite you
neglecting them and being an abusive little shit, man. New wineskins, bro.
They need to drink of such wine from you."

Just after tossing half a cinderblock through the front church window and
then maneuvering her way from High Street to Ohio Street, zig-zagging
home under the concealment of side neighborhoods, Michelle Dyer was
packing up several needful items in the back of her rusty 1974 Ford pickup
truck. She had finally had enough bullshit and mind games Pastor Maycock ,
whom refused to see or speak to her face to face regarding what Michelle
had conjured up in her mind concerning a pregnancy that would begin their
happy life together. She had learned from a coworker and cracked out fellow
slut cocktail waitress Sandy Eastman that Stanley had gone back home to be
with his family and for Michelle that was not acceptable. She had been
fucking Pastor Maycock for nearly four years and was about 40% certain he
is the father of her baby.
Shoving a third kerosene canister holding twenty-five additional gallons of
flammable liquid, she then paused to run a single hand through her musty
sweat of long bleach blonde whore hair to take inventory and quickly
remembered the twelve gauge shotgun her daddy had given her in his will.
Going back inside the dilapidated house that actually was one of the finest in
the neighborhood prior to her father dying, she quickly snatched up the
shotgun, along with a hardback copy of her favorite Stephen King novel
Desperation.

"Tk'aaaack!" She muttered while loading the two items into the back bed of
the rusty 1974 Ford, making sure a tarp covered her inventory just incase
she got stuck in traffic and curious holiday out and aboutters glimpsed the
stocked arsenal she was toting.

Her total vengeance inventory amassed the 12 gauge shotgun with over
forty rounds of ammunition, seventy-five gallons of kerosene, four crowbars,
two steel flashlights, six lighters, a half depleted bottle of vodka, another
unopened fifth of Yeagar Meister, her favorite Pitbull named Rollie, fresh
herpes bumps that itched down below-which is why she chose to drink liquor
this day despite being pregnant-a dusty old VHS porno that was Pastor

Maycocks favorite that served many nights for his carnal luxury while she
blew him and often having her act out for him what porn stars Wendy
Whoppers and Christy Cannon were doing , a small barrel of about ten
additional pounds of pure gun powder, two packs of chewing gum and a
warm twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer.

You just wait, Stanley. You fucking backstabbing, creepy pervert. She thought
out loud while chugging down the second half of the Smirnoff Vodka . Think
you can knock me up and rob me of a happy future together...youll see
mister. Hath no fury like a drunk woman with herpes! RAAAAHHHHHH!

She got into the rusty truck, cranked the ignition and really revved the
engine to maddened accompaniment.

"Tk'aaaaack!" She shouted once again when placing the vehicle into first
gear and rolling off the front lawn onto Warren Street.

I'll show you, MR Pencil Dick. Nobody fucks over Miss Michelle Dyer. Nobody!

"Tk'aaaack....Tk'aaaaack.....you fucking asshole Pencil Dick!"

A triangle perimeter of the most massive military force ever to siege

downtown Bangor Maine was set up surrounding The Penobscott County Jail
along Hammon, Franklin and Court Streets. Several tanks and well armed
Hum-v's displayed potential massive force. The press was told a very
dangerous terrorist had somehow gotten inside and believed to have enough
explosives on him to endanger the public, aswell as bring down an entire city
block. Yet no citizens' homes or business were evacuated and a spectacular

crowd swelling well over ten thousand was permitted to watch across
Hammon street.

The FBI had called in, the CIA and The CIA had called in Special forces from
both The Marines and Army.

No more attempts for contact were made to communicate with Merlin once
he stated he would only speak alone with Sheriff Kahler, whom for four and a
half days now was a complete insomniac and well past any negotiable sense
toward figuring a way to get the upper hand on this whacko holding his jail
and now wife hostage inside.

Following several animal rescues from State Gaming and having all cells
repopulated magically within the blink of the eye four more times with exotic
animals, Merlin decided to transport the Sheriff's wife and Mayor of the city
into jail cells aswell once State Gaming made the announcement they had no
other sources or adequate facilities to keep exotic animals such as baby
elephants, tigers and monkeys.

MRS Kahler-Alice-ofcourse was shocked to go from her own kitchen baking

Christmas cookies alongside their two young children to jail in what appeared
as less than one tenth of a second. Along with The Mayor of Bangor, both
their cell doors were welded shut by Merlin's laser eyes.

"Soooo what now, Merlin?" Sheriff Kahler fatigued. He desired so badly a

way to knock the magicians head off or in the very least cleverly create a
diversion so Special Forces could target a dead center strike in the middle of
his face. "What's the end game here? It's been four fucking days and here we
all still await Tabitha's safe return. Come on, what else could you possibly
want?"

Merlin cocked a curious single eye and stated quite simply, "The truth from
you, Sheriff."

Sheriff Kahler stretched out both arms in a bewildered gesture.

"Ok, the truth about what?"

"The truth about who the Father of Tabitha Maycock is, and also of the child
of a Miss Michelle Dyer, whom I presume you already know quite intimately
already."

Suddenly the Sheriff's face transformed from irritated to sullen and aghast.
Merlin continued.

"I ofcourse already know the answers, but I'll bet your wife and Mayor
Charmichael don't. Alice, I believe your husband has something to tell you."

Merlin extended a single arm out with palm up as a gesture to guide Sheriff
Kahler into confessing the truth to his wife.

"Tabitha will be returned home safely within mere moments of you Sheriff
telling the truth and later facing the consequences for your actions."

His wife Alice rose up from the cell cot she was seated upon and drew closer
to the bars. Her expression already registered a mixture of severe hurt,
aswell as being confused.

"Bill, what on earth is he talking about? Rosemary Maycock and Michelle

Dyer...what on earth is going on?"

Sheriff Kahler remained frustratingly quiet, his face was a defeated and
humiliated tomato red in color as he attempted to wave off quite a weak
affect of stuttering incomplete sentences of lies he was unable to muster.
Back in college at Husson College while pursuing his Criminal Justice Degree,
he cheated on then fianc Alice with one of his female professors and was
caught. The scandal eventually died down and did not affect his future career
many years later in law enforcement, but for wife Alice-darling, sweetly
devoted and terrific mother Alice-she could tell by examining her husband's
demeanor, there was far more to be told."

"Christ Bill, I and I am sure Alice is sick of sitting around here for over three
hours. You better state openly whatever it is this Merlin is seeking before
something grander is enacted to the negative." Mayor Charmichael
demanded. "If there are skeletons in the closet, now is the time to get them
out. Tabitha needs to come home to her family, Bill. That is more crucial at
this time than any private secret in your life."

The Sheriff spun around and kicked the outside of Merlin's cell while letting
out a gut-wrenching scream of inner condemnation. This brought on an
onslaught of armed military soldiers into the back hall facing the entire cell
block which he emphatically waved back immediately.

"Nooo...goddammit....stay back...stay back....stay back!"

"Bill? Honey...what in the world..?" Alice began crying.

Sheriff Kahler sunk his head in defeat and kicked the outside of Merlin's cell
bars a final time before turning back around pluming with a combination of
anger, guilt and exhaustion. His eyes moistened aswell when looking into his
good and faithful wife Alices eyes.

"Alice...I...I uh...don't know what else to say other than I am sorry. I am so,
so, so incredibly sorry." He began to weep. "I love you and our children more
than anything in the whole-wide world, even more than my career and own
life, but we've had stale crackers in the bedroom practically since being
married over two decades ago. It doesn't justify cheating, but I am a cheater
and Tabitha Maycock is my child and so too-quite possibly-is the baby
Michelle Dyer is currently carrying, ofwhich I just found out two days ago she
is pregnant. Pastor Maycock and an entire host of other local men-no doubtcould be the father of Michelle's future baby, but Tabitha Maycock has been
proven by private DNA from her Mother Rosemary and my volunteering to
submit my own DNA sample three years ago to be my biological daughter."

It was dark now at just 6:00 pm and the area around the church, just a few
short blocks from all the chaos surrounding the jail was unusually quiet due
to the military presence at the city jail down the road. Once breaking inside
the rear of the church, Michelle was lucky in finding a pallet on wheels where
she could easily unload and transport the kerosene canisters without
harming her pregnancy. She had passed out for nearly two hours in the
church parking lot while reading some of her favorite novel and decided to
slug down half the fifth of Yeager Meister, along with four Pabst Blue Ribbon
12-ouncers to get awake again and help steady her nervousness. She set up
each twenty-five gallon kerosene fuel drum in the sanctuary in a triangle ring
of connectivity. One up onstage directly behind the podium where Pastor
Maycock preached his hypocritical lies for years, another on the floor at the
back entrance and hall leading to his office and the third at the inside
entrance of the sanctuary that was the front of the church leading to a small
parking lot. She then took a break to consume more beer and chew some
gum while walking around the back hall and office of where she used to fuck
Stan. She highlighted with a flashlight the familiar couch inside his office and
grew jealous over the strewn blankets and his familar Drakkar Cologne smell
on them.

Oh Stan, who else have you been fucking aside from the future Mother of our
child and our happy life together? Her mind intensely vehemented.

The mere thought of him being intimate with any other woman-including his
own wife-deeply enraged her. She proceeded to storm back into the
sanctuary seeking out just one item, the ten pound barrel of gun powder
which she wasted no time pouring careful lines between each twenty-five
drum of kerosene. She began crying, still smelling his cologne from the office
couch blankets and more fantasies of him making love to his wife Rosemary
consumed her head as she cursed and choked and sobbed most bitterly.

She stormed outside again to down the second half of the fifth of Yeager
abandoned inside her truck and popped two more quick beers and then
produced the twelve gauge shotgun as every nerve inside rattled her hands
and body. Reentering the church, she was stopped in her tracks, dropping the
shotgun onto her left foot, which thudded so hard it actually broke something
in the ankle area, collapsing her immediately to the ground.

She didn't need a flashlight to see the gargoyle-face man with long curly
black hair glowing and levitating in such a macabre green and white light
above the stage. He was gradually advancing toward where she lay. Michelle
quickly scurried to find where the shotgun had landed and hoisted it up to a
single shoulder-aiming immediately, but the stranger or entity or whatever
he was warned her one time,

"That will not do you any good, Michelle. Please, just relax. My intent is not to
harm you."

"Ooohhh Fuck! Fuckfuckgoddammit, fuuuck!" She relented, too

intoxicated to remove the safety in time and get a shot off. She tossed the
weapon at him and it fell to the ground several feet between them without
discharging.

Upon himself floating and landing softly on the ground, the glow suddenly
changed to a radiant white light. It was heavenly brilliance, a pure white light
of love and compassion and Michelle bowed before its amazing,
encompassing awe completely shattered of all previous negative feelings or
vengeance as it radiated love, mercy, compassion and forgiveness unlike
anything she had ever experienced in all her life previously. Oooh, how she
desired just to be loved by someone and not treated as the town whore to
get your temporary squirt and free liquor from.

"It's ok Michelle, embrace this love, it comes from the real God who is behind
all things relevant and he does love and forgive you. He wants you to know
you are going to have a baby girl and she will grow up to have a much better
life than all you have suffered and endured. However you must change first
Michelle. You cannot keep living the way you've been living or stalk or attack
Stanley Maycock. He isn't the Father of your baby anyway, Sheriff Bill Kahler
is..."

This information deeply shocked and alarmed her, but she was too humbled
in immense sobs and purely absorbing the radiance of this being's extended
white light of love to be emotionally strewn any further.

"Who...who are you An angel?"

"No, not an angel but a Guardian. My name is Ronnie and I am one of Tabitha
Maycocks guardians throughout her current life here on earth. The reason
why she is missing has all been planned by heaven from the very beginning.
I cannot directly affect or alter individual lives, but I can visit earth at times,
help guide souls spiritually and express love and mercy while speaking to the
essential effect of my mission. This is why I had to stop what you were
intending. This church means too much to Pastor Maycock and his family and
if it were to be destroyed, then it would be Tabitha who would be damaged
the most-albeit to you at this time unknowingly and involuntarily- later in
life."

"Your mission...what is that?" She proceeded, steadying her weakness to dry

up the crying.

"My mission Michelle is to make sure Tabitha is protected and her parents
remain together to work through the chaos that almost cost them their baby
girl. You see, every soul that incarnates on earth-even you Michelle-has
specific purposes to assist in fulfilling God's will for creation. Nothing
concerning a dogmatically religious, vengeful or churchy god- given what has
been popularized over the past couple of centuries-no messiah or end of
days. Just the reality that we are all human here on planet earth, we are fully
fallible and capable of our emotions and deeds derailing our purposes and all
the adulterous affairs involving you, Stanley Maycock and Sheriff Kahler
came too close for comfort completely wrecking all God has in store for
Tabitha Maycocks sacred and extremely important purposes here on Earth.

Michelle was very repentant by this time and eventually smiled while basking
in more brilliant, loving white light. It was very sobering and at the same
time immensely forgiving and strengthening.

Ronnie then proceeded to sing to her a song she hadn't heard since her
daddy was alive. Her Father, before being killed in an upstate lumber
accident used to watch The Disney Movie Cinderella with his daughter all the
time whenever coming home for temporary one week off intervals every two
months. When tucking her into bed, he always sang to her favorite song
"Once Upon A Dream" and Ronnie miraculously gifted the exact same voice
as her Father-as if her Father were possessing Ronnie-the voice that came
out was her Father's own distinct nurturing when she was just a small child.
She hadn't heard her fathers voice since his misfortunate death at the age
of only eight.

I know you
I walked with you once upon a dream.
I know you

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

Yes, I know it's true
that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you'll do
You'll love me at once
the way you did once upon a dream

It was beautiful, infact all of heaven could not muster in loving worth and
sensational grandeur how beautifully special and impacting this was for
Michelle. Following the last stanza, Ronnie magically transported her back
home and safely tucked her into bed just like her Father used to do and
echoed the song again all around her-in her Father's voice-and for the very
first time in nearly two decades, Michelle Dyer slept restful and peacefully
loved.

Rosemary Maycock stayed up the rest of the night to listen to her very
repentant husband and in equal sincerity confessed all she had kept secret
involving Tabitha's true father. Husband and wife forgave one another and
Stan Maycock thought about stepping down as head pastor of his church,
until supporting wife Rosemary convinced him to simply inform the
congregation-both of them-everything that had just been forgiven in their
marriage and quite possibly enough equal grace and forgiveness by his
congregation would actually allow him to keep his job.

"She's coming home soon." Elder Sister Judith informed. "There are angels
bringing Tabitha home today, I can sense it. It won't be long now. Not long at
all, Mother and Father."

Rosemary smiled lovingly at her very gifted eldest daughter and reached out
to reel her in for a family hug. Stanley Maycock felt like the luckiest man in
the world to be forgiven and was now open to accepting the practice of and
actually gradually learning both his wife and eldest daughter Judiths
magickal powers. Powers and senses they were each born with, along with
late Grandma Ida, powers of the mind, spirit and healing that no religion can
ever understand, equate to or muster!

"Are you ready to return home now, precious Tabitha?" Her cheerful gnomelike friend gently asked. "Your family is so anxious to have you return home.
All your parents had to work through is now successfully completed and you
precious one will return to quite a radically `changed home environment."

Tabitha clapped a resounding "yes" and then gave out hugs and pecks on the
cheeks to many of her Nirvana friends she had enjoyed playing with and
being entertained by while visiting Lilith's underworld where anything is
possible and absolute agape love reigns. Lilith herself showered another
special flow of tiny faeries who blew even more colorful star kisses and then
introduced Tabitha to both Merlin and Ronnie, who also succeeded in Bangor
guiding any and all concerned away from further damaging this wonderful
childs wonderful purposes in this current lifetime.

"Hey, I know you." The little girl happily pointed at guardian Ronnie. "My
Momma listens to your music all the time. She loooves you."

Ronnie bent down to her level and handed Tabitha a single long stem rose.

"Well is that a fact? Then please give this to your mother from me in
gratitude and tell her thank you for being such a great fan.

"You could come over for dinner tonight if you want to?" She cutely offered.

Merlin laughed the loudest, alongside everyone, even Lilith who was
absolutely touched with humor. Tabitha then turned to Merlin inquisitively.

"Are my Mommy and Daddy ok? I really miss them and my sister Judith and
how come Judith didn't get to come here and have fun?"

Merlin explained to her further what her gnomish hobbit friend and Lilith
tried to explain previously, but Tabitha was having way too much fun with all
her friends in Nirvana to center her inquisitive, youthful four year old mind
on any seriousness spiritual intervention happening on earth.

Merlin asked her to close her eyes and think about home...to center her
energy on how much she missed her family and sharing a room with older
sister Judith...to gradually send her heart back home to 97 Harvard Street in
Bangor Maine where Vacation Bible School is always so much fun, University
of Maine Blackbears Hockey, Stephen King and future excitement that next
year she'll get to attend the Mary Snow School....back home....back home
baking cookies with mother Rosemaryback home and Dad reading his
daughter bedtime stories from The Bible....baaaack hoooome.....

"Look, here she comes...I told you...I told you so!" Judith excited, running out
of the house through the front door once spotting Tabitha walking up Harvard
Street. She was alone in the late afternoon balminess just one week
unusually warm and sunny prior to New Years Eve when all of Bangor Maine
quaked. She looked healthy, happy and was dressed exactly as she was a
week ago when mysteriously disappearing to Nirvana. Her family met her in
the street, both her Mother and Father hugging her very tight, never again
wanting to let go.

"Here Momma, my Guardian Angel Ronnie wants you to have this rose. He
said for me to tell you thank you for being such a big fan, but unfortunately
can't come over for dinner tonight."

Her father paused for a moment, remembering well the long haired angel
named Ronnie he had encountered inside his church. Stanley Maycock grew
up on big band music such as Frank Sinatra and The Count Basie Orchestra,
so really didn't understand the mutual connection between his wife and
daughter concerning this guardian Ronnie, despite his helpful presence with
him that evening at the church.

"Tabitha dear, what does this Ronnie guardian look like?" Dad amazed
further.

She innocently looked up and spoke matter-of-fact, "Ronnie, Dad. Mom's

favorite singer. You know, all the times you shout and tell mom to turn down
the stereo...Ronnie, the singer on all the record albums Mommy plays."

* *

Sheriff Standard was fired by Mayor Charmichael immediately upon the army
using torces to unweld the Mayor and Alice Kahler free from their temporary
jail cells. Alice slapped her husband very hard across the face twice before
having to be forcively separated from tearing his head off. She warned him
to never come home again and that all of his possessions would be tossed
out onto the trash curb along where trash belonged.

"Go to your whores who love cheating with you so much, I am filing for
divorce as soon as I can phone an attorney."

Michelle Dyer quit her job as bartender and former Sheriff Kahler, now only a
miserable unemployed Bangor citizen drank alone and was miserable. He
phoned Michelle a few times after learning he was infact her baby's father,
aswell as being the biological father of Tabitha Maycock aswell. Michelle
informed Bill he was not welcome over at her house any longer and if he
ever approached her in public again, then she would be quite adamant in
seeking out a restraining order against him. His own brief fling with
Rosemary Maycock nearly five years ago was just a one night stand for both
of them. Whoever knew such an angelic gift to the world would be of such
consequence? The now former sheriff had only seen Rosemary at church a
handful of times after both agreeing not to ever see one another again,
therefore Bill Kahler didn't feel any special bond or will to enter Tabithas life
as a paternal father figure. His tougher deputy, Ted Hughes allowed him into
the office to collect his things without notifying Mayor Charmichael, whom
insisted on being present should the former sheriff ever enter his former
place of employment.

"Hey boss, I'm going home now. It's been a tough week. I already gave
Deputy Aidan the night off and have a unit on regular patrol guarding The
Maycock Home. I just need sleep and then I need to start my own campaign
strategy for being elected future Sheriff. I just wanted to say to you Bill, it's
been an honor serving under you, Sir and I wish you the very best."

Bill thanked his favorite, most loyal deputy, agreeing to endorse him as
future Sheriff after the city of Bangor had finally dug themselves out of all
the shit he had soiled as Sheriff. He was left alone in his office to drink much
whiskey and upon reaching just below staggering level of capability, gutfully
prompted to conduct only one more deed by arming himself with his trusty
ole Remington Colt 44 automatic. Most of downtown was still crawling with
dozens of federal agents and thousands of curious citizens now being clued
by the press that the believed terrorist known only as Merlin has simply
vanished into thin air. Electric buzz, assumptions, conspiracy callers to
overnight radio shows and activity hummed all over downtown Bangor, so
Bill snuck out the back, endured a long, dizzying walk up Court Street until
connecting with Ohio and backed toward the far outer end of Hammond
Street near Bangor Theological Seminary undetected. He slowed his
intoxicated staggering in order to think long and hard while reminiscing on

the terrific city he spent most of his adult life in. Circling all the way up to
Thirteenth Street and decided Hayford Park would be the best place to hide
himself further amongst the darkness that suited his pitiful soul.
Making his way into the baseball stadium that next season would have
featured his elementary school son on the field, one of two children he loved
but wasted beyond any remorse of ever truly being a future father to, he
took a brief seat high in the stands behind home plate. The air was getting
cooler and he felt dead already, even seconds before placing the nostril of
the gun deep into his mouth and pulling the trigger.

* * The End * *

Alberts Albatross

Albert Finney the 5th was just granted approval to expand his business in
Midtown Manhattan from a small, third generation greasy spoon to his dream
of an ethnic Grecian restaurant. He was very happy this lovely spring day
when Mother Nature kissed New York City with a picture perfect sixty five
degrees of blissful sunshine until a delivery truck rushing around the corner
of 6th Avenue and West 42nd street plowed Albert into a mangled pretzel of
death. He was on his way to purchase a bouquet of roses, chocolates and
champagne to surprise his wife with the news. Not only news of the 1.5
million dollar bank loan, but also the relieving fact he will no longer have to
get he and his wife up at 3:30 AM six days a week to run the diner. No,
no...prior to dying that afternoon, Albert intended on beginning all
renovations no earlier than 9:00 AM, with full weekends off so he and his wife
Paula of thirty-six years could rekindle what full devotion managing a diner
can remove from an otherwise content marriage.
His Spirit left his body directly upon impact and the delivery truck did stop
as Albert's Spirit first noticed a non affected mid-twenties driver with longish
dark hair and a Slayer concert shirt beneath a black leather jacket and torn,
faded blue jeans and dark boots, belts and wrist bands argue with police
over what had just happened.

"No, I swear officers. This guy didn't even stop to look. He was almost
jogging as if in a hurry. I didn't even see him until a split second before
impact. Heck my griddle is nearly seven feet tall and by the looks of
him...woooah, is that his brains coming out of his nose?"

One officer quickly responded to taping off a half block perimeter and also
producing a temporary sheet to cover the gruesome remains of Alberts
innards spewing outwardly incase other pedestrians and city crazies arrived
to equally amaze over the coolness of most of his bones being crushed and
organs spewing out of the smallest available holes and lashings. After the
driver provided police a full explanation of his side of the story of what
happened, he was issued a citation to appear in court and instructed not to
speak of this matter to the press until a full police investigation had been
warranted.

"Yeah, um...like bummer and all. Yes Sir officers, I understand." Then
beyond the amazement of viewing Albert's mutilated corpse, the driver
further queried. "So like, was this dude somebody or sompin? I mean was he
known around New York?"

He was most likely querying such for the sake of not wanting future
vengeance to befall him. New York City is historically prevalent each and
every era for its gang violence, Drug Lords, organized crime and wealthy-todo who hate being pissed off by others. Slay one of theirs and not even the
band Slayer's lyrics can save you from future retribution.

The second officer working crowd control while waiting for a Sergeant to
arrive on the scene methodically picked through Albert's bloodied shirt
pocket with gloves and an ink pen, carefully making sure he didn't
contaminate the cadaver.

"I.d reads Albert Finney, does that sound familiar to anyone?"

Both his partner and the truck driver paused to think but then shook their
heads to the negative.

"Can't be the actor, he already passed away some time ago." His partner
eventually chimed.

"Oh-maugh-gooood!" Cried out a woman nearby bordering the police tape.

"Did you say Albert Finney? There is an Albert Finney, a bank client of mine
who just left my office less than a half hour ago. But it can't be, it just can't
my goodness, please tell me it isn't him?" She farsightedly astonished.

The officer holding the victims wallet walked over to display Alberts
picture identification to her. "Is this the man you are certain was in your bank
approximately a half hour ago ma'am?"

She gasped again, winced out choking tears of further affirmation while
bobbing her head up and down emphatically confirming it so.

"Ok Ma'am, I'll need you to try to remain calm, have a seat over there on
that bus bench and patiently wait for our Sergeant to arrive. He'll want to
know everything about your meeting with MR Finney this morning and also
hopefully gain more insight into exactly who he was."

Two more vehicles almost hit Albert's spirit once his body was taken away
by ambulance to the morgue for an autopsy, but passed right through him.
There was no more shock or question he was a ghost now, out in the open of
a post lunch crowd smack in the middle of New York City.

So this is death? He chuckled to himself, quite amazed there wasnt any

tunnel or bright lights or angels with lovely white robes or even his own
Mother who died of lung cancer over two decades ago to welcome him into
paradise. Nothing but the usual Manhattan bustlings of a packed lunch crowd
at Carneige Deli. Only this time absent from body.
Albert soon discovered his mere thoughts served as energetic means for
transport. He skipped both breakfast and lunch, only having a half eaten
large Kit-Kat bar from the freezer his wife Paula had forgotten about the night
before when cuddled on the living room sofa watching Titanic together. His
now ghostly, free spirited will carried him to Carneige Deli and he pridefully
walked past all the strands of literally a hundred busy work folks standing in
line. Albert envisioned crafting and then gulping down an enormous pastrami
on rye. Just the thought filled up his newfound spiritual craving of still
attainable earthly sensations.

If you think thats neat, go look at yourself in a mirror. A neighboring

voice interrupted just as Albert was savoring the special after taste of the
immaculate sandwich he had built to satisfy.

He turned to see an older gentleman dressed as an ancient or mythical

Eastern Guru wardrobe, kind of reminding him of Gandhi, but with a darker
complexion of skin pigment and wearing brilliant colors with ancient pagan
symbols all over his loose robe.

Albert didnt take him as an angel nor feared his radiantly happy
appearance.

And who are you? he furthered.

The bald, beautiful, bright being beamed a smile of upmost friendliness and
benevolence. I am Ashtabar, your Spirit Guide in this life Albert. You have
completed your contract here on Earth as Albert Finney the fifth, but now you
must complete an even grander mission before fully crossing over back

home. Why dont we examine your Spirit inside the mens room mirror for
just a bit and Ill explain more. You ofcourse have free will in spirit just as
when a human being here on earth, but I feel youll like what you see.

Inside the mens room of Carneige Deli, Albert did like-infact loved-his
appearance reflecting from the mirror. He was atleast thirty years younger
with ten times the muscle, braun and good looks of his college days at NYU
Business School. Furthermore he was dressed in an exquisitely fine business
suit , of which all his life only owned one and always dreamed of owning
more but could never afford it. On top of all the greatness in looks that
satisfied his spirit, the mirror also reflected an abundantly rich aura of the
most magnificent blues and purples clashing ever so lovely with bright
yellows and orange and violet reds.

Wow! I really dont know whatto uh He deadpanned (no pun intended)

Ashtabar chuckled most pleasingly. You have nothing to fear Albert. You
were a very faithful, loving and charitable soul in this now former incarnate,
aswell as a faithful husband, hard worker and devout catholic of much heart
toward charity. What you are seeing now is your true soul, this is the real
Heavenly Spirit of Albert Finney in its purest and most illuminating form.

After turning sideways to really enjoy how the suit wore him, he simply
asked, So what now, what else do I have to accomplish before crossing over
home as youve stated?

I cannot tell you of such Albert, for your mission must be completed upon
your own accord. But as your spirit guide I can drop hints and whisper
thoughts to further guide you. Your first clue is to go home to your wife
Paula. All I can inform you concerning her, is she needs you and in the future
will need you even greater if you truly love her. You have the power to
manifest anything you imagine, this is what creation and life is all about. Go
to Paula when you are ready, she is at home this very moment.

Ashtabar disappeared and Albert thought of being home with his wife and
was transported home immediately.

The naked sight of secret adultery transpiring before him held no beauty or
interest other than complete and utter and shock for Albert. His wife of
thirty-two years, someone he met at Saint Johns Catholic Church when a
student at NYU and was so incredibly sacrificial and loving as a devoted wife,
it tremendously irked him to witness the swarthy exchange of passion before
him, especially taking place inside his own living room. This was Paula
afterall, the very wife who always supported, agreed with and catered to
Alberts hopes, dreams and endeavors currently in the advanced stages of
foreplay with a much younger stud with long, curly hair on their living room
sofa. The very sofa just last evening they watched Leonardo DiCaprio and
Kate Winslet fall in love on.

Ahem! Albert persistently coughed.

Neither his wife nor her lover were tuned into sounds from the departed.
Only into a very fierce gorging combination of heated lust.

The male romancer had his shirt off and his wife Paula was now venturing to
get him out of his belted pants. She was completely naked aside from some
dark red panties-panties Albert had no previous recollection of- nor the silk
purple robe laying strewn behind her about to benefit from their lovemaking.
The studs pants were fully removed and his endowment was both gigantic
and long. He had the face of a young, foreign model with curly-probably thick
Italian-hair like the musician Yanni, yet was lean and muscle bound like Sly
Stallone. As soon as the toned stud reached out to clamp Paulas head with
strong palm grips covering each ear, he proceeded to guide her face into full
falatio on his member.

Albert yelled, Excuse the fuck out of me, just what the hell is going on here?
Who are you bucko and what the hell are you doing with my wife!

Albert jumped up and down, yelled a protesting tirade for two solid
additional minutes and even tried to manipulate objects such as a lamp or
ash tray to hover in the air to smack his wifes lover hard in the skull,
however nothing prevailed at all. All Albert could do was watch and this
deeply sickened him. Paula pleased her lover for several minutes and he
controlled her head and face as if a professional filming a pornographic
movie. She deep throated, coughed and spit and sucked more masterfully
than Albert ever received throughout thirty-two years of marriage. The young
stud then removed her dark red panties and fingered and licked her toward a
quick orgasm. She buckled back against the sofa, closed her eyes, her entire
body trembled and then she clawed the sofa and the top of his Samson-like
hair while spewing sweet hot juices of ecstasy all over his face, neck and
chest. Her lover arose to wipe and lick her juices, then brought her face up
closer again to help stimulate his already stiff manliness into further gigantic
puffiness. Albert wished he could vomit but was without body and organs. He
was spirit now and no longer possessed any fleshly or human feelings other
than what his spiritual eyes played witnessed to his surviving conscious.
After just two more minutes the studman pushed her onto her back over the
sofa and entered her-Alberts wife-missionary, but in a half stance hovering
over her. She moaned ecstatically in delight at once and he pounded away in
and out of her as her massively natural and alluring size 44DD breasts
flopped and were nibbled on and battered up and down and sideways, often
smacking her lovers face. Following several minutes of this position, he
reached down with one massively muscled arm and flipped her in reverse in
a one knee doggy-style position up over the sofa and entered her from the
rear completely standing up.

Oooohhhh yes, oh VinnieOh God yes.oh god fuck me hard, thats it

harder and faaaster and.

Vinnie was drilling her now as if she were a rag doll. He lifted her entire
upper body up and closer to his own chest and pumped her hard and fast

until barely six minutes later she climaxed again. Albert decided to leave the
room and consume a diet DR Pepper in the kitchen after concluding quite
furiously there was nothing more he could do other than wait for ole Hercules
to cum himself dry and hopefully leave the apartment.

Well, I guess working seventeen hour days opened up loneliness for her
many times all these years? He thought to himself. Still he was disgusted
and felt heavily betrayed. Even with the news of the 1.5 million dollar
approved bank loan this morning, this would have been something that
would have drove Albert to suicide had he not been struck and killed crossing
the street.

But Albert was already dead. Now it was time to discover what it will take to
finally cross over and return home to the other side?

It was a curiously interesting ensemble at Blaggard's Pub. The truck driver

who hit and killed Albert was seated at a private table with an unknown
Robert Deniro clone who spoke with a thick Jersey accent. Next to him was
the long haired stud who had just fucked Paula Finney inside their home
three days earlier and the clan of three were drinking, toasting and
celebrating quite accomplishing their latest successful con.

"Yo, bar keep. Another round when you get a chance please." The Deniro
clone, later identified by one of his accomplices as Smitty ordered with a
gloating smile.

The truck driver was telling the group about his interview at the Police
Precinct that very morning and boasting quite cockily.

"I'm tellin' youse, it was like that fella on the TV show Monk or somp'in. The
usual cop mustache and thickly moussed eighties hair wearing-I shit you nota polyester suit. Spent more time with his face buried in my police records
than looking at me or questioning directly. Just asked me the same questions
ova and ova about where I lived, have previously lived, how long I've
worked making deliveries in the area of the accident, etc...kept me there for
about forty-five minutes for nuttin' such a lamo cock sucking pig! Last
thing hey says to me, he says, he's not sure if he will be able to assist me
with keeping my job as a driver or not, but stated as far as he was concerned
there was no malicious intent on my part. I was thinking, whatever palsy like
I'm really scoring large delivering plumbing pipes to construction sites.
Geesh, what a friggin schmuck!"

The stud laughed the loudest as Smitty lit a cigar which the bartender
quickly reminded of Mayor Bloomberg's Nazi rule of no smoking in public
places in the city.

"Fuck that liberal douche bag. Smitty scorned. He was a tiny man whose
fowl language mastered any situation. I'll take an eighty-ounce Pepsi to go
and drink it infront of his wife while fingering her poop chute during rush
hour in Times Square." He crudely joked.

Half the bar that overheard enjoyed that chuckle.

"So howse it looking on your end, Vinnie?" Smitty returned to business.

The stud corrected his slightly slumping posture while dipping a slice of
wheat pita in a bowl of humus.

"Pretty smooth after last Monday afternoon. The coppers showed up less
than twenty minutes after I banged the hell out of the old hag to inform her

of her husband's death and she ofcourse tore to pieces clinging to me and
wailing a river of tears toward seeking comfort. The cops asked me who the
fuck I was and I wanted to tell them the guy banging the dead man's wife,
but ofcourse just told them a friend from Saint John's dropping by for coffee
and conversation. Come to think of it Ronnie (addressing the truck driver) it
sounds like the same Detective you described. Blonde, Rutger Hauer eighties
hair, looking very much throw back eighties inside a polyester suit. Asked a
lot of pointless questions..."

"Like what?" Smitty interrupted.

"Oh nothing really, mainly grinded on just what my relationship was to MRS
Fucko, where I lived, if Ive ever done time in New York, what I did for a
living...yada, yada, yada, oh get this, I convince the dicko I'm a model from
Milan and shit and he believed it, god what a fucking moron!

A very beautiful, sophisticatedly dressed mid-fortiesh woman with perfectly

permed brunette hair entered the bar and removed a silk handkerchief from
her $1,400.00 Proenza Schouler hand bag to lay on the grimy seat of the old
wooden chair at the group table before sitting down.

"God, this place is revolting. We should meet at Blarney's next time. A little
more expensive, but much, much cleaner and classier. Besides, I do believe
we can afford to spoil ourselves a little."

She leaned in to kiss Smitty and upon gazing her profile, that's when Albert
recognized her. She was the very banker at Bank of America who approved
his business loan.

"What's cooking hot stuff?" Smitty returned the kiss affectionately.

"Lots actually."

Not wasting any time, she then proceeded to dig through her handbag to
retrieve three manila envelopes.

"This is cooking." she pleasingly stated. "Gentlemen, a score well done and
convincingly portrayed by all. Each of us benefits a certified bank check for
just over three hundred thousand dollars. Because the business loan was
confirmed by my President at Bank of America, I am sure you understand I
had to break it down individually to certified checks from the same bank and
that takes a little time. Your patience is now rewarded equally and in full.
Took some haggling, but all is golden and untraceable."

Smitty ordered his lady queen her favorite drink, a sex on the beach and
ordered additional rounds of whisky and beer for the rest of the men when
Albert was once again visited by his spirit guide Ashtabar with another
request to meet inside the bathroom.

"I can't believe it." He amazed. "I mean, who the hell are these people? They
are serious con artists, that's for sure." Albert protested at once.

Ashtabar was responsive, but limited to what he could clue Albert to.

The only advice I have for you is to center your attention on the ring leader,
a mister Smitty Saunders."

Albert dismayed. "Why him? I'd rather follow Fabio's studly ass home and
figure a way of levitating the handle of a toilet plunger deep into his ass."

"Understandable, given he's been having an affair with your wife for the
better part of two years...but there is...."

"Two years!" Albert angered. "Two fucking years that greasy Gweedo has
been slobbering over Paula?"

"Yes, um...let's see, exactly nineteen months. Always during the day when
you are working and one hundred percent of the time inside your own home,
right there on the sofa." Ashtabar notified him.

Albert thought for a moment and then realized in retrospect he had smelled
cologne and other uncommon scents in the past while relaxing on that sofa
after work to read. He was pissed, but needed more answers.

"So what gives? What's the overall game plan with this group? No way can
that broad scam one and a half mil from her bank like that and not get
busted in the future, right?"

"Actually yes, she will get away with stealing the money approved to loan to
you now that you are deceased. This is the fourth time she's attempted it
and well, it's a rather long and tedious cover up concerning computer
records mostly and also filtering the loan through an offshore account. My
advice to you Albert is to follow the ring leader Smitty, however I cannot tell
you why or precisely what reasons for doing so."

Albert was a very tense spirit at this point pacing the length of the grimy
mens bathroom.

"What about using my mind to manipulate objects and free thinking? You
said I could do that and boy would I like to stick it to that creep balling
Paula."

Ashtabar chuckled. He was always grinning most heavenly.

"Albert, that is a power that takes time to develop and one that cannot be
used for dark purposes. I'll give you an example. Let's say the guy who is
having an affair with your wife, Vinnie is stuck in a torrential downpour and
attempting to hail a cab. With effectively developed power you can either
manipulate the cab driver's mind into not stopping for Vinnie's fare or get
lost and not being able to get him to his destination or something along
those lines. You certainly cannot move a toilet plunger up his ass or harm
him or anyone else. You can though manipulate mindful energy-to no harmalso air, water and other small material objects such as metals. Can't move
cars or buildings or boats or trees, but wind and water certainly can. Do you
understand?"

"I think so." He exhaled sharply, feeling deeply flustered.

Ashtabar gloated most pleasingly again. Good dear Albert, then continue
along your mission in good grace and safety. Why not take a load off for just
one evening and enjoy something entertaining in the city that perhaps you
couldnt afford when alive?

Albert decided to work on his powers of manipulation by honing in on a fire

alarm at Clearview Cinema Ziegfield. Rent was playing and he had never
seen it, but didn't feel like standing up, so he triggered the electronic alarms
in the entire theatre to force an evacuation. He was able to manifest such
power from harnessing the energy from a vintage hot air popcorn popper in
the lobby, along with the voltage of the theatre lights inside. The secret was
to absorb all of the energy surrounding him and in spirit meditate where to
transform it.

Bingo! The theatre was evacuated and several attendees decided not to
return. Mostly dressed up elderly rich folks who are not accustomed to
waiting in line for anything. Furthermore, having to wait around outside in
the cold until the fire department deemed the theatre safely operational just
wasn't fun. Still, the show must go on!

Later that evening at Yankee Stadium, he was able to burst several water
pipes inside the visiting Boston Red Sox locker room before the game even
started. That successful temptation led to popping up all sprinklers beneath
the playing field when The Red Sox first took the field in inning number one,
causing massive flooding on a crystal clear, cloudless evening. Forcing the
game to be cancelled, but hey anything rash enough to irritate those fucking
Bo Sox!

Wind he still had to work on. He spotted a prostitute talking to a car full of
guys trying to coax her into attending a party with them and Albert wanted
to see just what kind of tush she had underneath her very tight and
extremely short mini skirt accenting her sleek legs. Afterall, if Paula could
play then so could he, he surmised. He tried to manipulate the energy from a
street light nearby, but couldn't and as it turns out, the prostitute turned
down the party offer from the car load of intoxicated men.

The skating rink outside Rockefeller Center was beautiful and forever
remained one of Albert's favorite places to hangout. It was where he took
Paula for their very first date oh so long ago and as he watched all the
humans crowd the rink and bustle happily around, he actually missed being
human again. For one thing he no longer had a penis, nor could enjoy all the
physical arousings of the hedonistic earthly dimension. He could still taste
food and drink, just couldn't act out carnally as a spirit.

"Say, you're a ghost aren't you?" The accusation surprised him.

Albert turned to his right where a little girl no older that seven or eight years
old was standing, appearing very sad.

"Why yes, but how did you know that?" He amazed.

"I'm one too." She flatly admitted.

She was a lovely child with long, dark Native American hair and an olive
complexion wearing a Justin Bieber t-shirt. Unfortunately her expression was
sullen for such a young child.

"Well, that surprises me." Albert attempted to cheer her up. "I don't see how
Heaven can make the mistake of not rushing someone as adorable as you
straight to the front gates of Saint Peter."

"Who the heck is Saint Peter?" She queried.

"Oh, just someone awaiting both of us to arrive in Heaven one day, I reckon?
You see, from what I've learned if we are ghosts here on Earth then we still
have purposes yet to fulfill before we go to Heaven. We are going there-you
and I- but something just seems to keep us here unfulfilled-for now- until we
accomplish that deed or task. Do you understand?"

The little ghost girl flipped a single hand through her dark hair and shrugged.
Yeah, thats what this angel told me immediately after I died. That I had to
stay here to be with my Mom, but my Mom hasn't been home since I died

and I don't know where she is? Maybe since you know all about Heaven and
fulfilling purposes you can help me find her?"

Albert thought for a moment, smiled brightly and stated to her consolingly. "I
think we can both search for your Mother. But tell me your name and if not
too painful, how did you die?"

"My name is Alyson Tiegel. I am seven and a half...or um, was almost eight
when my Mother dropped me off at Christian Day School just like any other
morning at The World Trade Center. Then, there was a huge explosion and
massive metal debris collapsed all around the entire school and then lots of
smoke and fire...and everyone was panicking and I couldn't see and I was
pushed to the ground and trampled to death. Oh it was horrible. Everybody
was so frightened and running over others hoping to escape. I do know my
Mother was very sad, I did see her one time after I left my body and my
dad..."

She saddened again and quickly quieted. Albert walked over to her, kneeled
upon one knee and gently placed two outstretched hands of comfort upon
the sides of her shoulders.

"Hey, hey there, it will be alright. You began saying something about your
Father, what is it dear? Please, I know leaving this life and family behind is
hard, but perhaps he may have something to do with why you are still
earthbound? I was just six blocks away when September 11th occurred and I
am so sorry you had to go through that. But you are safe now and I am a new
friend who can be trusted."

She gazed at Albert now resembling more assurance and trust.

"My guardian angel told me it was contracted to happen before I was even
born. But my Dad, he...he couldn't take losing me and killed himself less than

a month after my remains were identified and laid to rest. I've been looking
for him also, he used to take me here to skate all the time, but so far haven't
found him either.

She was a very brave and very beautiful girl, just very alone as a spirit in
such a big city of flesh and bone. Albert knew he had to help and even if he
didn't know exactly how, they were meant to journey together as spirits.

"I'm real sorry Alyson, but the good news is if your Father isn't here with you
right now then he has to be in Heaven and before too long you two will be
reunited and spend eternity together." He smiled.

"Really?" She excited for the first time.

"Yes really. Let's just say I have a feeling it wont be long until your daddy
hugs you again and reads you stories and takes you skating again. In Heaven
I am sure the skating rinks are much bigger and better than here at
Rockefeller Center."

"Cooooool!" She delighted with shiny bright eyes of optimism.

Albert first taught little Alyson how to use her mind to transport anywhere
she wanted to go and the two of them spent half a day at Candiworks for
the best salt water taffy all of New York has to offer, followed by most of the
day at The Brooklyn Zoo. But not before teleporting to Half Pint Citizens,
where Alyson gladly traded in her tattered old Justin Bieber t-shirt from 2001
for a Jonas Brothers sweatshirt and exquisite school dress bottom, new shoes
that reminded her of her Mother's favorite movie character Dorothy in The

Wizard Of Oz along with a few extra stocking socks and other tops to wear in
the future.

Just before sundown Albert was successfully able to track down her Mother.
Infact, after her beloved daughter had tragically died on Septemer 11th
2001, her Mother Lydia Tiegel visited and stayed at her daughter's graveside,
right next to her husband's grave inside Woodlawn Cemetery each and every
day.

"Mommy!" Alyson jolted to hug her Mother, absolutely ecstatic to see her
again. But as a spirit could only run directly through her.

Lydia lifted her head the very moment her daughter's spirit passed through
her and a tear welled up in one eye. She sniffed the air and looked around in
a daze of surprise, then proceeded to call out her baby's name.

Alyson? Oh myAlysoncome back to Mommy, please!

Years ago Lydia Tiegel would have been mistaken for a super model, an
orphaned baby from Brazil with an eclectic mix of Korean. Her hair was
strewn and unkept today-like most days after losing her family to severe
tragedy- and she wasn't wearing any makeup. The sheer loneliness and
mourning had carved several wrinkles into her beautiful eyes and face over
time. She now appeared gaudy, quite underweight and withered.

"Yes Mommy, it's me. I am here with you." Alyson screamed back, desperate
to penetrate that mortal veil of reuniting.

Albert had finally figured out how to manipulate wind and water, just as he
had energy a couple of nights earlier. He had discovered that whenever love
dwelled and boiled mightily and combined with spirit-such in this case of

Alyson reconnecting with her Mother-then the two, both love and spirit could
manifest beneficial elemental power in the tears of Lydia Tiegel.

"Go to her again Alyson! Albert encouraged. Only this time stay inside your
Mother as still as you can for as long as you are able. Project every mighty
will of love for your Mother while inside of her. Remember all of your
beautiful shared times together and how much youve missed her. Project all
feelings outwardly as if hugging her again."

Lydia Tiegel's body literally jolted and the single tear that transgressed her
face suddenly sparkled and shift changed instantly into a beautiful pink and
black butterfly swarming all around her.

Lydia gasped, clasped one hand in front of her mouth in astonishment and
cried several tears of joy this time.

"Oh baby...oh my I've waited so long...I love you Alyson, Mommy misses you
sooo much."

She stood utterly enchanted watching the butterfly fly all around her. So
magnificent and mystical, but also deeply flowing with life filling
enchantment and symbolism. Back when Alyson was in preschool, her very
first drawing for her Mother was a pink and black butterfly.

"I love you too Mommy. Don't worry, my friend Albert says I'll spend eternity
with Daddy."

The swirling wind Albert was intensifying also produced an additional spirit. It
was of a glowing, golden man dressed in an ultra-radiant white robe. He was
a very good-looking man, smiling most joyful and content.

"Daddy!"

Alyson ran out of her Mother's flesh to leap into her Father's arms. His
golden glow showered so much omnipresent light of love that even his
widowed wife saw both He and Alyson for a brief moment. Lydia was stone
faced, but glowing with much love and joyful tears. All of the love and
radiance from both her husband and daughter cemented her in place,
actually collapsing lightly to the ground, looking up in such indwelling awe.
MR Tiegel's spirit cradled and kissed Alyson immensely as she clung to him
in the purest, most perfect longing of an affectionate reunion.

"We're going to be just fine Lydia." He assured his wife. "We are with you
always and it is so happy where we all reunite one future day my love. Don't
ever feel you are alone or separate from us, we are always with you."

Lydia extended a single arm out with her palm extended outward and the
pink and black butterfly landed directly on her palm.

"I love you both also...oh thank you, thank you so much for this moment..."

Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Lieutenant Detective Slocum
whistled through his front buck teeth and heavy blonde cop mustache. A
small mist of spit soiled his new polyester suit.

His partner serving just under two years of the corny Lieutenant Detective
was a Puerto Rican Jew from Brooklyn who possessed more brass and drive

to nail the bad guys than all four former partners he served with over the
past twenty-seven years.

"That's the banker, right?" Detective Almul pondered. "What the hell is a
nice, rich piece of ass like her doing in this part of the city alone at night?"

The two were staking out Vinnie's apartment on the lower Eastside. Paula
Finneys lover was clearly lying to the officers when they first questioned him
a week ago upon breaking the news to her of her husband's untimely death.
Lieutenant Detective Slocum despised liars and sure as hell didnt buy
Vinnies story about being a model from Milan, nor a devout catholic. The
Detective actually had experience as a mustache model for a popular disco
line of mustache grooming kits back in the 1970s and early 1980s, so
Vinnies shit wasnt floating with him in particular and both cops smelled the
distinct raunchiness of sex inside The Finney Apartment when there a week
ago to inform Paula of her husbands tragic death. Ole Vinnie Testavere most
certainly did not appear very consoling to her, nor welcoming to police
questions at the time. Detective Slocum found his demeanor antsy, aswell as
strange and thus he and his partner were conducting a stakeout of studman,
adulterer and liar Vinnie.

"Interesting, I must say. Is this guy balling everybody's lady in the city or
something?" Detective Almul wondered.

Then not two minutes later Lieutenant Detective Slocum spotted the one
major creep and notorious city conman every cop in New York was already
familiar with, Smitty Saunders.

"Looks like the plot is about to thicken." He stated.

"Smitty, the banker and Vinnie...hhhmmm, nice suit by the way, what is that
polyester?" Detective Almul noted.

Lieutenant Detectice Slocum concurred, but objectfully resentful.

"Indeed, I believe you're right. My gosh, look how baggy and untailored the
legs areand the shoulders are slouchy, my gosh Id find a new tailor if my
wife ever caught me wearing polyester so disheveled. Despicable, I say!"

"Didn't know they made those anymore?" His partner surprised. Well uh, I
mean you always wear polyester, but yeah um, Smitty looks like an untamed
circus midget in polyester.

"I completely concur, partner. That alone should give reason why we need to
bust up the party. Who the fuck does he think he is, the character Luther in
the movie 48 Hours?"

The two lavished in the humor of the moment.

Sure dresses like him sir.

Oh-maugh-gaaawd, look how loose the wrists are also. My goodness, no cuff
links? A brand new suit absent of personal tailoring or cufflinks, Jesus-HChrist what kind of tie does one disgrace a complete bum-look further with,
polka dots? Goodness gracious, the slimeball has literally conned millions of
dollars during the course of his life, is almost my age and treats polyester
suits like thatI must confess to being aghast for further words. Were lucky
we didnt go blind staring too long at him.

"So, are we going in to stir the hornet's nest a little?" His partner asked.

The Lieutenant Detective eyed his last two bites of a Paczki donut and
stuffed it in his urning mouth all at once with an accompanying chug of cold,
three hour old coffee.

"Let's give them a few more minutes to settle in, but yes we'll definitely have
a little fun with them."

Righty-o Lieutenant. Detective Almul responded, reaching for the bagged

snack of raw carrots and celery sticks his wife had packed for him.

Albert couldn't believe all he was hearing from the group inside Vinnies
apartment. Just as his Spirit Guide had advised, he had been tailing Smitty all
week and this very evening even a more elaborate bombshell of information
had been dropped. The only one not present inside Vinnie's place on
Manhattan's lower eastside was the truck driver who had mauled him nearly
two weeks ago. Smitty had ordered Vinnie to whack him and dispose of his
body out in the swampy Meadowlands of New Jersey, which Vinnie had
succeeded in doing the very evening Albert was helping Alyson find her
Mother. Furthermore-even beyond the business loan fraud-was another plot
by the group to snake Paula Finney out of her late husband's inheritance.

Albert watched as Smitty unlocked a briefcase to produce a thin file and he

recognized it instantly. It was his last will and testament for his wife to inherit
the restaurant, their apartment and all other bank holdings upon his death.

"Oooohhh she's a beaute. This is your finest work yet, honey." He praised his
stunningly beautiful bank ace of a fraudulent girlfriend.

Taking a seat adjacent to them being cuddled together on his couch, Vinnie
was all ears. He could smell something even more golden brewing.

"So what gives, boss?"

Smitty kept his attention curious to pop open a fresh bottle of fine
champagne and the trio toasted their largest score to date.

"This Vinney is the will or should I say the masterfully altered will of MR
Albert Finney. You wont believe this, but the schmuck actually kept it inside a
safe deposit box at the bank and Muffin here pulled off the perfect alteration.
So well infact that it has been legally notarized beyond any suspicion this
very afternoon and Muffin is officially MR Albert Finneys secret affair no one
ever knew about. Not actually, but the will states as such. My honey pie here
is now the sole beneficiary of the restaurant; over two-hundred and sixty-five
thousand dollars in bank savings and most importantly will be the beneficiary
of Albert's forthcoming two million dollar life insurance policy. Additionally, a
friend of mine connected to Al-Qaida, whom I shall meet with privately
tomorrow is willing to pay an additional four million dollars cash for the deed
to Albert Finneys former restaurant. It is my best estimate New York will
soon benefit ten times what was witnessed on September 11th, 2001.oh
hell, The freakn Jets are stinkin again this year so is it at all a loss anyway"
Smitty confessed. Although I am clearly not opposed to Capitalism by any
measure, I am a businessman first and foremost and to be completely
honest, Jersey has better beaches."

Vinnie sunk back in his chair to exhale sharply while taking all information in,
aswell as a refill of Mot&Chandon champagne.

"Woe...I mean, man." He amazed.

"Yes. One hell of a woman my muffin is. I am a blessed man indeed." Smitty
returned to business following a brief kiss and wink to the sexy banker. "This
is where we part company though Vinnie. I have a certified bank check for
the amount of two hundred thousand dollars for you. This latest scam
involving the will and life insurance had nothing to do with you, therefore it
serves as payoff to comfortably move out of New York City before the
terrorist boom."

Albert moved his ghostly presence closer to Vinnie who appeared stunned
and even registered betrayal.

"Um, excuse me MR Saunders, but it was I who seduced the dead man's wife.
I do believe I am due much more, especially since our truck mowing shill is
out of the picture. Theres just the three of us now. Not that two hundred
large isn't a nice offer or anything, but you are making off with nearly six mil
between the two of you, when there is three of us left and I am only getting
the butt of the sweet smoke. That just doesn't seem fair, Sir."

The sexy banker spoke up next. Her tone was surprisingly harsh and
demeaning toward Vinnie.

"No offense Vinnie, but you were just a body and although I'll admit it's quite
a body capable of seducing any lonely old lady, fucking the dead man's wifeeerr as you refer to-is not even worth two hundred thousand. However you
did play a role, albeit a very small role compared to what Smitty and I have
achieved and also disposed of our shill successfully as commanded.
Therefore we urge you to accept the payout and leave New York upon your
most immediate convenience."

Vinnie didn't appreciate her tone or advice. Infact, he hated the sexy woman
the very night she turned his flirtatious advances down upon first being
hired. Two years of balling a sixty year old hag and whacking the shill only
earned him two hundred thousand and a couple of glasses of champagne
that reminded him of piss warm plank road lite beer? Unt-ungh, Vinnie wasnt

about to let these two fuckheads dupe him. No way, no how. He stood up
abruptly and began arguing further how unfair his end of the deal resulted.
Mostly pleading to Smitty who really didn't care if Vinnie liked the deal or not.
A brief moment later, the sexy banker produced a handgun with an already
attached silencer.

"I'm sorry Vinnie, guess you are too stubborn and greedy to live then. Can't
take that risk. Kiss...kiss you fucking stupid ogre!" She mocked.

He lunged at her pistol arm hoping to push her aim sideways and succeeded,
until one tenth of a second later Smitty instictively jumped in with a
blackjack and whacked Vinnie hard with it a couple of times ontop of the
head. Vinnie staggered back and little miss hottie readjusted her aim just as
hard knocks suddenly erupted from outside the front door of Vinnie's pad.

"Open up Vinnie, it's the police. We need to talk pal, so no funny stuff."

Smitty immediately cupped a single hand over his wife's trigger hand and
gestured not to shoot.

Vinnie then yelled back to the police, "Help me, I am at gun point, break
down the door if you have to."

Smitty tossed away both the blackjack and his girlfriend's weapon just as
Lieutenant Detective Slocum and his partner burst down the door and
entered with guns drawn upon the trio.

Vinnie managed to maneuver a quick side step back around the corner of the
living room where he was immediately pursued by the younger and more
athletic Detective Almul who could only watch the fitness stud literally leap
and swing out of an open kitchen window and meticulously down the back

fire escape. He didn't want to fire his pistol down below due to all of the open
apartment windows in the area. If a bullet were to ricochet and hit a civilian
he could lose his career and possibly face jail time, even as a NYC Police
Detective. Not worth the risk. Vinnie was blazing down the alley and
disappeared from view within a mere few seconds. Both detectives later
surmised at some point he would eventually attempt to contact Paula Finney
and when Detective Almul returned to the living room, his Senior partner
already had the sexy banker laying face down on her belly with her hands
handcuffed behind her back and was in the process of rolling Smitty over to
handcuff him after being forced to knock him out with an intimidating hard
cop punch.

"Woe, what'd I miss partner?"

Lieutenant Detective Slocum lifted a hand to gently brush his victoriously

shag mustache.

"Oh not much, just my first knockout right cross in over a decade. The little
weasel actually tried to race over to a weapon on the floor in the corner and
thought he could take me out along his path. Have you ever seen that film
The Longest Yard when the inmates play the prison guards in football and
that big fella succeeds in a dicapitating close line on a guard and then states,
I think I broke his freak'n neck?"

"Um, no but am I to conclude that's what knocked out Smitty here?"

Detective Almul delighted with anxious eyes.

"No, actually it was the right cross I landed after he was close lined. But it
could very well be possible the close line first just may have broken the little
tird's freak'n neck."

The sexy, now formerly rich banker suddenly spitted a hail of insults at both
officers for injuring her man. She went from high banker class to verbal
street whore trash in a split second.

Lieutenant Detective Slocum bent over to her ear level and simply mocked
back.

"Boy it's a shame such a hottie like you wastes her beauty and brains on
such tiny, inferior trash. I do believe half the guys in the department would
love to dote upon, spoil and ride you to oblivion, honey pie."

From inside Paula's apartment came severe knocks and desperate pleas from
a severely rattled and intoxicated Vinnie. Albert, Alyson, her Father's Spirit
and a host of Angels and Spirit guides were inside the apartment assisting
Albert in communing with his wife using love and wind to open her up to
telepathic communication. It finally worked prior to Vinnie beating down the
apartment door! She was startled at first, but just as emotionally charged
and appreciative for Albert coming through.

Don't open the door, Paula...he is a very dangerous man...the police are on
their way....

"Go away or I'll call the police." she shouted back at Vinnie through the door.
"I do not wish to see you."

He inturn began trying to ram his way in and all the Spirit's present
combined their energies and heavenly powers to melt the deadbolt locks
sealing the apartment entrance. Paula marveled over how metal ash trays
and other long time dormant and decorative statues could lightly sail past

and around her and mere seconds later-right before her eyes-disintegrate
into a melting pool if iron, steel and even tin.

More voices were heard now further down the outside hall

"It's over Vinnie, let me see your hands now. I said now...don't do it..."

A series of gunshots radiated the outside hall, followed by muffles and a

declaration by Detective Almul beyond the door outside that Vinnie was
dead.

And just as fast and exceedingly powerful the combined spiritual energies
were to melt a second defense of metal to prevent the apartment door from
splintering in, so too within mere seconds of combined energies were they
chipped completely off the door and tinkering as jaded waste to the inside
apartment floor. Paula opened the door for the Detectives after her late
husband's Spirit bid here a brief goodbye in the here and now. He continued
communicating telepathically that he loved her and forgave her for her
infidelities and that he could finally return home to the happy nirvana that
awaits all of us in this life.

"I'll be with you always Paula and we will reunite when the appointed time
has arrived. Do not hold any guilt for anything youve been conned into
portraying, nor bereave for me for I am with you always."

Lieutenant Detective Slocum had packed all his most memorable belongings,
thus ending quite a successful and enduring twenty-seven year career in law
enforcement. He recommended to his Superiors his parter Detective Almul
be considered promoted to Lieutenant Detective in his absence, for now the

bushy mustache was officially retiring his polyester work suits fighting crime
and slime in New York City. This latest apprehension and close line move and
additional right cross knocking out Smitty Saunders convinced him he was no
spring chicken and feared if he remained in law enforcement, it could very
well be he who wound up on the wrong side of a gun, gang or bust go bad.

Heyah, thank you Sir for the recommendation. The Chief just contacted
me requesting a meeting inside his office at 9:00Am tomorrow. He told me to
wear my finest suit. Detective Almul beamed, knowing in advance what that
meant.

Well, well, wellI do believe this calls for a little celebration. I promised
Laverne I wouldnt be late for dinner or Id be more than willing to buy us
both a few rounds at McSorleys. Slocum explained as he rummaged
through a box of packed personal items. He quickly found a half depleted
fifth of Scotch, quickly uncorked it and saluted a gracious, To the next best
Lieutenant Captain and future generation of NYPD Blue.

He winked at his partner as his partner gladly accepted a big, celebratory

swig and then handed back the bottle for his now former partner and mentor
to join in.

Thank You, Sir. But I have just one last question sir, if permissible?

Slocum looked at his former partner quisically.

Well sir, it is the 2007 and uh, meaning no personal offense sir, but making
Lieutenant Detective tomorrowuh, does this mean I have to grow a
mustache, sir? I mean is that traditional protocol for such a ranking, sir?

Slocum laughed in rip roaring delight and swigged once more before passing
the bottle back to his former partner. He attempted to envision Almul with a
mustache, even a thin sleeker version many immigrant youth sport today,
but somehow couldnt imagine him with any mustache style at all on such a
handsome, strong and young face. He squinted his eyes and attempted to
refocus and try again, but still felt his former partner looked better without
one, despite making Lieutenant Detective.

He simply replied back to him, Youre goddamn right you have to grow a
mustache. Winking at his former partner once more.
The End
Fast Freddy

Fast Freddy will con anyone and has. A real low life. The sum of a cheesy,
sleazy & unfashionable shyster with a gambling, cigar, scotch and sex
addiction. Hes homeless most of the time and broke a lot, but is a very
skilled grifter and smooth talker. He once had his own Mother place their
tenth generation family home in Brooklyn up as collateral to bail him out of
jail when facing his second Class B felony, then skipped bail forcing her to
have to stay with church friends the rest of her elderly life until dying of a
broken heart and lung cancer. When only fourteen, a then stumpy Freddy
went around the neighborhood mowing neighbors yards for extra summer
cash and actually deflowered little Tina Manning, the popular, bright and
ever impressive daughter of prominent local First Baptist church Pastor, the
honorable P. Thomas Manning. Tina became pregnant and as a result of
much gossip and family shame, her daddy lost his job, church and most
horrid, his community reputation. Ever since serving a nickel in juvenile
detention and later being released at the age 18, Fast Freddy has defined
transient, travel, more grifting, conning, gambled and continuously robbed,
charmed and cheated everyone he's ever come across over the course of
two decades. He enjoys dressing in vintage argyle or tweed Frank Sinatra
and Bing Crosby styles and colors year round and even wears a hat he stole
from a museum display in Hoboken New Jersey that used to belong to 'Ole
Blue Eyes.' The real horror is there are an uncalculated and unknown number
of other little Fast Freddies out there, bastard children of literally dozens of

affairs spanning four decades. Mostly with immigrant women seeking

American Citizenship through fraudulent marriages-that has been Freddy's
biggest scam over the years. He manufactures them fake Drivers Licenses
and credit cards that hold no persuasion whatsoever, other than tedious
gluing, printing and laminating skills and then charges them a romp in the
sack, along with unfulfilled promises of marriage- providing they are hot and
have big bahzungas in the chest. On top of the normal $500.00 surcharge.
After he's had his fun frolicking in heated erotic stimulation and manipulation
has brimmed it's peak, he simply turns on them by reporting their
whereabouts and fake identifications to whatever local authorities in
whatever city or town or region happenstance just blessed. They get
arrested, often deported and Fast Freddy grifts to another place like a ghost,
leaving no tracks, real name or residue. Just babies nine months later
concerning most of his nave and vulnerable prey.
This evening though Fast Freddy is in deep shit. Real deep shit! Somehow
while in Miami playing the ponies at The Calder Race Track, he came across
an old billionaire of a gentleman at the Twin Spires Tavern whom Freddy
thought he could pass fraudulent insurance on and masterfully did so to the
tune of over 20 grand. Only problem for Freddy was the guy was connected
to Colombian Drug Cartels and at 2:30AM this past Sunday morning, four
intimidating steroid apes with concealed guns busted down the door to room
#213 at The Hollywood Gateway Inn to drop Fast Freddy off the roof of the
motel head first. But Fast Freddy-as usual-cleverly and most out wittingly
managed to talked and sang about all the scores and dough he and MR
Albert could make together, once he reimbursed him his 20 large ofcourse,
and of all the women and travel benefits that he and MR Albert himself could
eventually lavish in. The two quickly develop a kindred sense of money
blood-houndedness when they first met just moments before Fast Freddy was
intended to go splat on the parking lot and just for conniving game and
sportsmanship, Fast Freddy was challenged to a poker game first to spare his
own life and next to later unfold to see just who was the slickest between the
two new comrades that fate intrusted.

"Three Queens over two tens, I must say that is impressive indeed Freddy.
Looks like Ogre won't get to squash your head and enjoy watching your
eyeballs pop out after all. I am sure that is most disheartening and a bit
disgruntle to you Ogre." MR Albert complimented Feddy's life saving winning
poker hand.

His chief bodyguard Ogre stood closely behind Freddy to watch carefully
that he didn't cheat. Both men were stripped down to their boxers and socks,
MR Albert's preferred poker security. Ogre grunted disdainfully. He really
enjoyed choking people and watching their eyes bleed from intense
hemorrhaging. He was a massive Samoan with an addiction to Hollywood
horror films, kiwi, and powdered sugar atop strawberries, crepes with
blueberry syrup and ofcourse, slow, merciless torture.

"Oh Ogre, we have more humans for you to devour later in the week. MR
Albert assured his chief bodyguard. I am a man of my word and Freddy here
won his life back honestly. One question I do have for you though is what is
your given annual casino intake when you are having a really blessed year,
Freddy? Surely in the upper tens of six figures I'd gander."

Freddy gathered all the playing cards and performed a few slick shuffling
moves.

"Well MR Albert, hey is it ok to call you Al since we've bonded?"

"No, you shall address me as MR Albert and none other."

"Okie doke then, well MR Albert I'll tell ya and this may come as a surprise
but I don't really gamble. You see, I am a con man and I love seducing
women. I'll wager against USC whenever playing in Eugene Oregon each
football season and few other tickets like The Jets over The Patriots, but as
far as gambling, no sir I am not big on it. Too risky.

MR Albert ordered Ogre to fetch them a fresh round of drinks.

"Make mine a scotch neat please there ole boy." Freddy delighted, full of
confidence.

Ogre shot him a quick glare of hatred, but didn't waste any time fulfilling his
bosses request.

"Cons hungh? such as phony insurance policies like the one you
masterfully sucked out of me?"

Freddy nodded nonchalantly. "Yeahum those, life insurance, oh those are

huge with elderly wives with ill husbands, everything from liquor and
cigarette shipments to fake credit cards, other identifications, you name it.
I've not only done it but have gotten away with it.

Up until now?

Freddy nodded prideful while flashing his signature Ole Blue Eyes
hometown grin.

MR Albert fetched a cigar from his blazer after dressing again.

"I see, oh Ogre please get Freddy here his clothes to put back on."

"Say, you don't feel like a few more games, maybe sweeten the pot a little
just to make things interesting?" The expert shyster gloated.

"No." MR Albert refused. "I have to take my daughter to a Miami Dolphins

game this evening. She is flying all the way in from Milan and just loves Dan
Marino. Plus Freddy, you still owe me twenty grand that you conned out of

me and I don't think I will allow you to con anymore out of me through your
great poker skills either. No, no I've decided to keep you here at the
compound, give you a cabana and a job around the grounds. Nothing too
taxing I assure you, for you dont strike me as much a dedicated manual
laborer. But because you conned me, you must sweat and bleed a little, even
if not by Ogre pounding every last drip of blood from you."

Ogre grunted again with seething eyes penetrating the back scalp hairs of
Freddy.

He was taken aback by MR Albert's demand and shuffled the card deck
even fancier.

"Hey MR Albert, how about we just play for that twenty large. If you win the
debt is doubled in the kitty for a few games more and if I win, well hey Ogre
still doesn't pop my eyes from their sockets. I really would like to travel on
MR Albert. I was thinking Detroit before it gets too cold. Got some terrific
action there this time of year."

MR Albert removed the cigar from his mouth and slammed a meaningful
palm hard upon the table, instantly shattering any previous buddiness.

"No, you little weasel and I'll tell you why not. You fucked me. You are a
slimy, rodent of a con man. You are a worm, a cheating, manipulating bum
and a spineless coward! I don't like slimy little cheats, therefore I will make
what you conned out of me paid back in full and through hard manual labor.
That way you learn not to fuck with me or others who are exceedingly
greater than your slithering, maggot slime in the future. Ogre, please escort
this maggot to Wilson and tell Wilson he's boss over him and to work him
hard. Each day you do work hard and Wilson reports so, you Freddy will have
successfully paid off one hundred dollars a day from the twenty grand you
conned out of me. Is there anything you do not understand?"

Freddy's face instantly became grim. "A hundred bucks a day, to work all
day. That's it?"

"Would you rather Ogre remove twenty large out of your bones and face?"

Freddy waved his arms infront of everyone in a gesture of surrender. "No,

no sir MR Albert, there will be no need for violence. Ok, you're right I conned
the wrong man and crossed you, so I am here for awhile...eerr what say a
couple of weeks to make things legit. No Sir, I get it."

"Try a couple of months, like closer to four. I will give you weekends off from
labor and I am sure you and Wilson will become friends fast. Wilson is a
former Black Panther and cat burglar who got caught inside this very
compound over two years ago. Real strong fellow who served overseas as a
Marine, just old and a bit rusty now and he got caught, by me! I'm sure he
will fill you in on what happens if you try to escape or run off prematurely. Oh
and by the way Freddy, this entire compound is more secure than any jail or
prison you've frequented, I assure you. Try to escape just once and Ogre gets
you as his new playmate, completely unrestricted and unsupervised.

Ogre grinned big and made a wheezing sound while clapping his massive
hands. He hoped the little worm would attempt an escape.

MR Albert said what? Oh hell naaaw, this cracker ain't stayin' wit'me. What
the fuck has that old man been smoking at his gaming table anyhoo?" Wilson
deeply protested.

Ogre never said much, but did place a firm hand semi crushing Wilson's
shoulder.

"Oh'kaaay...ok, I'll put him to work first thing in the morning doing yard
work. Damn you Big Ape, ease up on the pain, Im too old for this shit."

The remainder of the day didn't improve for Wilson or Freddy. Wilson
banned him from using half of the small cabana they were now forced to
share, but by late evening a shared bottle of vodka and several reruns of
Good Times helped clear any disgruntled tensions between them.

"Boooy, I'd lick dat Janet DuBois like a lollipop...mmmm...mmmm...finger

licking goood." Wilson fantasized. "Say Freddy, you got a hot little number
wherever home is?"

Freddy guzzled down the vodka, wishing it were scotch. "No um, I normally
stay unattached. I like strippers and naive emigrant chicks with money."

Wilson reached for the bottle to swig along. "Strippers eh, yeah they're
good. No attachments. Naive emigrant women, now that's new to me. Are
you a grifter, cuz dats the vibes I'm getting from you."

"You could say that." Freddy confessed.

"So what's your specialty and how the hell did you wind up MR Albert's
plantation negro like me?"

"I sold him fake insurance and his people found me less than a week later
well after I spent it."

Wilson squelched up his face in amazement. "You what? You say you sold
MR Albert fake insurance? What are you, fucking stupid or on a death wish or
sompin?"

"No, just stupid I guess. I should have split town immediately, but I was
holed up inside a motel on the edge of town in Hollywood and never thought
anyone would even notice me. I felt ragged out physically and just wanted to
rest and zone out for a week before making up my mind on where next to
go."

"So how much did you take the old man for, that is if that knowledge won't
get you or especially me killed?"

Freddy felt like lying and making the twenty grand much, much smaller, but
by some miracle of weariness and the great persistent truth serum vodka
decided to confess.

"Twenty large."

Wilson immediately took his attention off actress Janet and jetted up from
his chair in utter astonishment.

"Twenty large...as in thousand? Wait, wait, wait, something doesn't add up

here. You stole twenty grand from MR Albert and you're still breathing? Now
that's rare indeed! I could understand if it were Christmas and his daughter
were around and he didn't want to be so brutal infront of her, but daaay'hum,
twenty grand. You are one fucking lucky-ass dude Freddy, dats fo sh'ore, Yo!
Oh and by the way, MR Albert owns every hotel and motel in Miami,
stretching all the way down to Boca Raton baby, no wonder you didn't get
away with it.

It was while clearing brush during his third week slaving away at MR
Albert's maximum secure compound when Freddy noticed a chunk of lonely
watershed forest off of Griffin Road, which bordered the most isolated area of
the compound. He paused when the work day concluded and the sun was
setting alongside Wilson who was wrapping up raking leaves and Wilson
immediately recognized what Freddy was anticipating.

"You can forget whatever it is spacing you out. You'll only die out there.
There's gators and snakes and plenty more employees with pistols patrolling
outside that fence for MR Albert." He stated matter of fact.

Freddy relaxed his weary, aching stumpiness upon the handle of an upright
garden rake dreamily staring vastly at the ten foot wire fence and road
bordering beyond it.

"It's just an old wire fence though. He surmised out loud. No razor wire or
electronic sensors. There's a High School...let's see, about four miles that
way, yeah and then clusters of neighborhoods one could hide amongst
easily at night and obtain a vehicle to getaway in the next morning. I dont
know about you Pal, but Im feeling lucky and optimistic, despite any gators
or snakes. Im telling you bro, I can hack us out of here forever. Make the old
man wake up in the morning with both our names searing l-e-g-e-n-d-a-r-y
outlaws bitterly on his mind every day for the rest of his life."

Wilson exhaled sharply while nodding his head strongly to the negative and
then extended an arm around his new friend. "Look Freddy, drink some more
Gatorade man, I'm telling you that whatever delusion you are entertaining
concerning a possible escape, to just forget about it. Come on, let's get back
and clean up. I'll phone the main house and put in a request for some more
booze and some steaks. Hahaha, ole fast Freddy. The title suits you, my
man."

Later that evening after watching the movie Brians Song, Freddy taught a
very greenhorn Wilson how to cheat at poker. MR Albert was impressed by all
the work being completed on his property and had no problem granting the
two extra perks such as steaks, an assortment of grilling vegetables and
more liquor. After a few thorough lessons in being a Poker Ace, Freddy pried
into how Wilson got to where he was in life and for over two years serving as
a cooped up slave under MR Albert.

Wilson looked at his new friend and roommate and grinned coyly, then
arose to check outside the cabana for any eaves droppers such as Ogre. He
then returned with a freshly opened bottle of vodka and mixed up some
cranberry drink and crushed ice for them to enjoy to the accompanying
sounds of Duke Ellington.

"Yeah boooy, back in The Marines, Duke's pal Billy Strayhorn actually saved
my life during an overnight layover in The Bronx. Bet you didn't know that?"
Wilson began to spin.

"Actually, I'd rather find out why you are so willing to stay here for two
years. Come on man, gators and snakes are one thing, but you've probably
got this entire compound staked out from head to toe over the past two
years and are an ex Marine, yet you are intense toward talking me out of
trying to escape. So what gives?"

Wilson's expression changed and he became more somber. He stared at the

ground for a few mesmerizing seconds, and then got up again to retrieve an
old, withered cigar box hidden behind the paneled wall behind the television.

Thumbing through the secret contents for awhile, he produced a few items
in his palm, one of which was a picture of a very voluptuous younger woman
of absolute striking beauty and sophistication.

"Yeah, I could leave here and probably get far, far away if I wanted. But I
can't leave her. No way and nooo how. Freddy, I know you told me you don't
have a steady girl back home, but I do. This is my home now, ever since I fell
inlove with Ms Anita Albert. Hell, I'd be willing to stay here the rest of my life
and even die here just to see her four times a year when she visits from
Milan. But if MR Albert ever found out...well, 'nuff said."

Freddy grasped the picture and reeled it in for a closer view. Anita Albert,
MR Albert's own daughter and only child appeared not quite thirty years of
age, compared to Wilson's obvious graying yet striking Louis Gosset junior
appeal. She resembled a cross between Jennifer Lopez and Gloria Estefan,
with Anjolina Jolie's lips, breasts and curves. Her hair was thick and wavy,
trailing almost down to her waist in the photo. Freddy whistled in
amazement.

"Woo-wee Wilson, you've got to be fucking with me! You and MR Albert's
daughter? Holy Mother- fn- Christ maaan, no wonder...I mean, wow!"

"Thought that might raise a few hairs on your head." Wilson gloated.

"Yeah...um, not just hairs buddy, she's fucking gorgeous! Were talking a
solid ten man, hell a hundred breaking any scale for beauty."

Wilson went on to share a few more items of jewelry and fish tackle, telling
of how they first met at The Victoria Park Marina. Many years prior when just
a teenager herself, Anita Albert dated the son of Miami's most notorious
crooked Mayor. The guy was a cokehead, egotist and flat out spoiled asshole
brat who disrespected everyone and everything. He treated Anita like an arm
charm and was always strungout on cocaine and booze. Wilson served
previously as a deck hand and quickly learned how to charter MR Alberts
multi-million dollar yacht. Late one evening the coked up boyfriend flipped
out and got too rough with smaller, much inferior and precious Anita, so

Wilson intervened by killing the guy and chopped him up into a bah'zillion
pieces for fishing bait. Anita was traumatized, but thankfully not raped or
seriously harmed. Inorder to get past the trauma of the previous evening,
Wilson catered her a free one week fishing trip in the Bahamas. The two
wound up falling for oneanother-despite their grevious age difference of
nearly thirty years- made love, then over the succeeding decade fell deeper
and more madder inlove with each other. Wilson's only legitimate avenue for
them being together and actually getting to know her white, often prejudice
and very overly protective Father, was to stage a break in as a cat burglar
one evening when she was home and have her perform the best acting job in
her life to convince her father not to kill him. Just as how MR Albert dealt with
Freddy conning him, Anita talked her Father into kidnapping Wilson as an
indentured servant on the property, thus sparing his life. It flew without a
hitch for nearly twelve years, twelve as a former yacht skipper and now two
as a compound laborer. When it came time for Anita to go off to college
overseas, first to France, then graduate art and fashion studies in Milan,
Anita and Wilsons love stood distance and the test of timely patience. She
ofcourse returned home during all Summer Breaks and Holidays and
gradually in the future they planned to come clean to her father, once she's
graduated fashion school in Milan of what certainly will be a quite shocking
and nearly mortifying bombshell for MR Albert.

Freddy slugged down his vodka cranberry with ferocious anxiousness. "Wow
man, that's like...I do believe that is the greatest con I have ever heard of in
my entire life."

"Not a con Freddy, true love. My lovely soul mate is expected back this very
evening and I have a feeling soon after which just may be the time when we
both come clean to MR Albert."

Freddy exhaled sharply with another slight whistle. "I wish you a lot of luck
man, really. Is this the fishing tackle you used that magical weekend
together?"

"It is indeed. Piece by piece of the man I killed for true love hung from it as
bait over our enchanted weekend together in The Bahamas. But the crime fit
the mold or the magic as I often refer. Because I fell head-over-heels inlove
with Anita."

Crude voices suddenly called out from outside the cabana and Wilson
scurried to snatch back his precious keep sakes into the cigar box to hide
again.

As the voice drew closer, there wasn't any doubt it was MR Albert
approaching.

"Goodevening gentlemen, I would like to have a word with you if I am not

interrupting the party?"

Wilson succeeded in placing the cigar box back in its secret hiding place
and then answered back, "Oh no sir MR Albert, we're just relaxing to a few
drinks and some good ole jazz, sir. You are not interrupting, sir."

He made his way into the cabana dressed in an all white suit resembling
Colonel Sanders, a strange safari hat and small round dress glasses
screaming Teddy Roosevelt.

"Oh dear gaaaawd Wilson, you need to burn an incense cone or two, it
smells like The Miami Dolphins locker room in here. But I guess in-a-sense
that is good, for I took a tour of the grounds earlier this afternoon and
wanted to drop in briefly to commend you both for all the hard work you've
both been executing these past few weeks."

"Thank You MR Albert." Wilson nodded.

"Thanks." Freddy followed.

"Yes, Freddy I've stopped by actually to speak with you. I would like both of
you to take tomorrow off and ofcourse the rest of the weekend. Wilson, just
continue relaxing to your jazz or cable tv, enjoy some cool air conditioning
and cocktails and whatever food I may additionally provide as a reward for all
the hard work. You two have really been working hard this week and that
work should be rewarded with an extra day off for the both of you. Freddy, I'll
need you tomorrow evening though-moderately sober by 6:00 PM-for an
evening of poker. This time I want you to cheat your ass off and if you win
enough from my wealthy guests visiting from Colombia, I am willing to forgo
your debt one hundred percent and grant you your freedom to leave here
after this weekend. Does this all sound appealing to you two?"

"Oh yes sir MR Albert. But if not too much to ask sir, if I am off tomorrow
relaxing and staying cool with an extra day off, may I also sir obtain a few
pounds of shrimp and perhaps some Dos Equis and some tuna steaks sir?"
Wilson ventured.

"Yes Wilson, I see no problem granting that. If you become too bored here
at the cabana, I'll instruct my staff to allow you access to the stables to ride
a thoroughbred and also the bowling alley, darts and pool tables inside the
basement aswell. Really fine job on the property this week, I cannot express
that enough."

"Thank You Sir." Wilson sharply.

"Oh and Freddy, as to my offer tomorrow evening at 6PM, what is your

decision?"

He flustered his lips while exhaling quite surprised. "Sure MR Albert, sounds
like fun. No offense sir, but I'd really like to get on the road toward Detroit Sir

immediately after Ive hopefully made you a rich man...um, just curious sir,
these associates of yours from Colombia, they aren't going to kill me if I
make you a rich man are they?"

"No, no dear boy. Plus theres the fact I am already rich well beyond my
lifetime, future ambitions or what I deserve. My guests are very long time
friends and business partners of mine and have been for decades. Infact
Freddy, I am hoping the son of one of my closest business partners will take
a liking to my daughter Anita who arrives later this evening. Let's just say if
everything goes well, I may stand to marry within the Escobar Drug Cartel.
That is as long as my daughter hasn't already fallen inlove while attending
college overseas in Milan. Very good then gentlemen, I'll have your request
delivered here first thing tomorrow morning Wilson and by all means come
out and bowl a few games or ride a fast thoroughbred should you feel
inclined tomorrow. Freddy, Ogre will pick you up and escort you into a
properly tailored poker suit promptly at a quarter til five tomorrow evening,
not a minute later and remember, I need you relatively sober and focused by
then. Trust me when I say this will be the steadiest hand you'll ever have to
deal in your life. Goodnight gentlemen." He tipped his hat and exited.

"Goodnight MR Albert."

"Yeah...um, goodnight." Freddy already began to worry.

Anita arrived home before 3PM and upon 5:30 lied to her Father about
desiring to visit South Beach to dance the night away with reunited teenage
girlfriends she hadnt seen in forever and instead secretly spent the evening
in bed with Wilson inside the cabana. Her Father suggested she be escorted
by the son of Pablo Escobar who also secretly within the Escobar Crime
Family really came to Miami- all the way from Bogota Colombia- to whack her
Father, but upon glimpsing Anita's beauty was more than willing to wait a
few hours to do the deed. Freddy slugged down nine beers earlier in the day,

then did a ton of push ups and sit ups and guzzled an entire gallon of water
before Ogre fetched him at to be tailored for the evening's all important
poker game. Anita stuck to her avid lie about already scheduling an evening
with old girlfriends from High School and made up further jibberish about
already agreeing to a blind date herself that evening and that highly irritated
her Father, yet when it came to MR Albert, nothing pleased him more than
his daughter's happiness. Not even money.

Wilson laughed after catching his breath after their long, heavy second
session of making love inside the cabana.

"Pablo Escobar's son? No shit. Wow Anita, now I know you truly love me."

"She flipped over on her side, her lovely, natural 36DD breasts softly being
squashed into his ribs while stroking a lite finger from his muscular
abdominals to his lips and back and forth repeatedly.

"I've always loved you dum-dum and may I say being a slave for Daddy
these past two years has made you a reeeal stud."

They kissed passionately, intimately woven together and then got up for a
bit to make cocktails. Anita asked about Freddy, whom she met ever so
briefly before sneaking to spend most of the evening with Wilson. "I take it
he is Daddy's slave also?"

Wilson nodded with a wry grin while handing her a perfect Pina Colada. "To
the tune of twenty-thou." he still amazed. "The guy is a real con artist from
what I've gathered, but has that grittiness for survival and also occasional
failure all at the same time."

"Yes, I'll agree. He handed me a private note upstairs while having drinks
with all the card players to give to you." She stammered over to her purse,
bending over to retrieve the note Freddy had written. Her toned position
displaying a perfect heart shaped buttocks increased Wilson's already
natural porn sized manliness three more erect inches.

No matter what happens this evening Wilson, I'm leaving tonight.

It read.

"Oh Jesus, what the hell is he plotting now?" Wilson baffled.

"He won't hurt Daddy will he?" Anita worried.

"No...no, Freddy isn't armed, nor does he know martial arts or has any
combat experience. He's obviously served time, but I don't see him cooking
up any plot that involves harming your father."

"That's good, because not only is there my Father to contend with, but six
heavily armed and massive Colombians. These guys are pure evil, especially
Pablo's greasy little dwarf son."

Wilson sucked down his drink and thought to himself for a moment. "Say
Dear, after we make love a third time, do you think you could return to the
main house by around eleven and cause a deterrent?"

She amazed but not a bit nervous. Just like her own Father, Anita Albert
enjoyed taking risks. "I guess so, but what do you want me to do?"

"Enter disheveled and act panicked like your evening went bad partying
down in South Beach and...yeah, be fearful there is some creepy guy at a bar
you went to following you and spin some story how he roughed up your blind
date and frightened away all of your friends into calling it an early evening
and uh, if not too over dramatictell your father this vicious creep followed
you home and is at the main gate and youre real scared andyada, yada,
yada Please Daddy, do something, Ya know? Something along those lines.
One other thing though, I want you to try to deliver a note back to Freddy
from me before the shit hits the fan."

He moved in closer to release their drinks to the small living room coffee
table, then began kissing on her neck, earlobes and nipples. "So sh'uuuga,
you think you can pull that off for your future husband?"

She shivered; melting into his seduction, but then broke away within an arm
length as her eyes bulged in ecstasy. "Did you just say what I thought you
did? I heard you say future husband, I know you did, that's what you said
didn't you?"

Wilson gloated-he was truly happy-bedazzled,smack dizzy inlove with Anita

and went to fetch the hidden cigar box one final time. "I've been working on
this all morning Anita."

He produced quite a cantankerous and rusted metal and plastic

engagement ring made out of the very fish tackle he had stashed away for
over fourteen years.

Anita gasped in utter delight, placing both palms to her cheeks and
squealed as loud as non-detection inside the cabana allowed. Her joy was a
wispy, excited tone of happiness blending with shock. "Oh Wilson...Wilson,
my goodness, I...I love you sooo much!"

He kneeled down before her proper to tell her how much he loved her,
briefly resketching his heroism aboard the yacht back in 1970, all the way up
to present day. The big man was nervous for the first time ever-even more so
than the affects of surviving two tours of duty in The Korean War. Anita
always made him nervous despite their love transcending all borders,
secrecy and time.

"Anita my love, I know I can't afford a real ring or diamonds or even gold,
but you my love for you and your love for me is all the treasure in this
lifetime I'll ever desire or need. I strongly feel it is time honey bunches. No
more secrets or deceit or fear of how your father may act. My queen, my life,
my soul mate, will you make me the absolute happiest and best man I can
possibly achieve by becoming my wife?"

Her knees buckled to the ground and the two love birds passionately
embraced and kissed once the offbeat engagement ring was officially placed
upon her designated finger.

"Just promise me one thing." She temporarily broke away amidst streams of
joyful tears running down her beautiful, glowing face.

Wilson cupped her hands inside his and kissed them gently. "Anything my
love, anything you desire."

She looked down at her gaudy ring made from plastic and metal fishing
tackle and stated a warning instead of a request. "We never ever replace this
ring with diamonds, gold or any foolish, superficial emeralds. Not ever, this is
sooo perfect!

Wilson laughed robustly, feeling merrily gay and brought his newly crowned
fianc in to a trusting soft kiss signifying mutual agreement.

I am sending Anita later in the evening to create a diversion so you can

escape. Don't waste any time taking out as many guards as possible. I plan
on hitting two guards stationed outside well in advance. Best wishes my
friend.

The note surprised Freddy, but also jacked him up to purposefully fuck MR
Albert over. The first hour of the evening poker game reaped much more
than the twenty grand Freddy owed back to MR Albert and now it was time to
make him loose everything but his daughter to the Colombians. Pablo
Escobar's youngest son was a weasel-looking thug. Short and skinny,
reminding Freddy of a cross between Ringo starr in the face and hair, with
the actor Andy Garcia's complextion, blended with Al Pacino's character in
the movie Scarface as far as demeanor and savvy wardrobe is concerned. He
enjoyed dressing tropical with his bony, overly hair chest buttoned down with
all kinds of solid gold bling shining off 'big money.'

"Well, well, it does appear your ace here is having a bad streak all of the
sudden." The prominent South American Drug Lord's son confidently chirped.
"Let's see, that's now forty thou my way and I don't even need it." He and
two of his goons laughed.

Two more massive security guards were posted outside the card playing
room and another two, the most massively armed at the front gate a good
quarter mile down the drive from the massive twenty-five acre grounds.

Freddy had tossed his eleventh straight winning hand on purpose and MR
Albert was growing increasingly jittery once his losses cut near two hundred
thousand.

"Freddy...ah, may I have a word with you just a moment please?" MR Albert
tensed.

"Nobody is breaking up the game until I get to five hundred thou." The
cocky son ordered.

MR Albert scrambled to suggest a refill of drinks, but the two body guards
on duty behind Cezario Escobar were almost as intimidating as Ogre and
certainly much more heavily armed. Ogre didn't like guns. When a small boy
he witnessed his Grandfather being killed in by a sniper and the potential
fear of being shot that has haunted him ever since. Straight up hand to hand
combat, no problem 99.9% facing any encountering opposition, but guns
made him literally wet his giant britches.

"MR Albert, I just flew over five hours and had plenty to drink on my way
here. Now I came here to play cards and am hot right now, so whatever pep
talk you want to give your shining star here will just have to wait. Ante up
everyone!

Everyone chipped in their ante and Cezario felt so confidant on his next
hand he sweetened the pot all the way up to an additional one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars.

"Fold!" MR Albert quickened. Praying this next loss wouldn't cost him half a
million.

For MR Albert, his total net worth stretched well beyond two billion dollars,
he was just an extremely poor loser to anyone.

"Well Ace, looks like you and I are the only gamblers with balls this evening.
So whatch'ya say?"

"I'll match your one-fifty and raise you an additional three hundred large."
Freddy winked.

MR Albert chastised him. "Freddy, I must insist..."

"Yo my man, you're wrecking my focus here. Keep it zipped up. This is
between me and the ace here." Cezario irritated.

Ogre suddenly advanced toward one security guard who walked over and
hovered too close over MR Albert and a mere moment later just as Freddy
intently blew another hand and an additional another four half a million of
MR Albert's money, Anita suddenly rushed through the game parlor door
behaving panicked and unsettled.

"Anita, darling what is it?" Her Father immediately rose from the table to go
to her aid.

Ogre and his Colombian doppelganger in the mean department of

physicality began snarling at one another as both MR Albert and Cezario's
attention wavered from the intensity brewing between the two steroid apes
to concentrate on Anita's alarm.

"Oh Daddy, it's horrible! There was this creepy guy at Club Cameo and he
assaulted and robbed two of my friends and then followed me back home
and wasted two of MR Escobar's guards at the gate and oh my God he's on
the grounds and...

Ogre hit his counterpart first, solidly knocking him back a couple of steps
into the nearest wall, but was able to come back at Ogre with his own boxing
assault. The sheer brutality of strength between them knocked the entire

card playing table into splinters as the second body guard joined his friend in
teaming up on Ogre.

"No...make them stop stop this right now!" MR Albert fumed.

The two other body guards came rushing into the game parlor when
hearing the ruckus and Cezario promptly ordered them to go outside and
locate some weirdo running around the compound.

"Shoot to kill anyone on the grounds." He furthered.

Anita panicked for real this time. "No, my fianc Wilson works here. He
didn't do anything to you."

MR Albert now dismayed even further toward madness.

"Wilson? Your fiance? Just what on earth are you talking about Anita?"

Cezario then produced a small caliber hand gun that Freddy identified as a .
38 caliber Smith and Wesson and aimed it point blank at MR Albert standing
just ten feet from him.

"Here's the kicker MR Albert, Pappa sent me to terminate you. An associate

of his caught on to all the skimming of product these past twelve years and
yes, although very sneaky and almost undetectable, now you must pay with
your life."

Ogre, with two massive goons attempting to bring him to the ground
suddenly turned and in rock solid Rambo fury managed to toss one guy off

him and pulverize another with a knee to a shin. He attempted to dart across
the room, still a good fifteen feet away from his beloved boss, but Cezario
wasted no time succeeding in firing three rounds into Ogre's chest.

Freddy brazenly kicked the chair he was formerly seated in perfectly and
just enough to buy him enough time to run and leap through a glass window
that would allow him temporary escape at ground level. The chair hit Cezario
in one shoulder and knocked him off balance stumbling slightly back a
couple of steps, but closer to his target MR Albert. Ogre's giant frame
shielded Anita from any further gun fire and on his way darting toward the
large glass window Freddy grabbed Anita's hand and ordered her to follow
him.

It was dark outside, very dark. More gunshots erupted from inside and
Freddy decided to round the house to a secluded corner of vegetation to
offer further darkness and just squat and listen and think until...

Thwack!

A sudden sharp blow to the back of his head, halfway to the goal and
probably the most immense to this point in life he had ever endured sent him
off his feet thrusting forward and onto the ground. He was barely able to turn
over consciously to face whoever had just assaulted him. It was an
enormously powerful and leering bodyguard of Cezario Escobar, one of two
he ordered outside to kill anyone they came across.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Freddy attempted to stall. His vision now
fogged in a heavy gray daze, aswell as displaying slightly slurred speech.

"I'mahhmm playing your boss in cards and heheeis is winning, you

dumbass."

The monster-ish hellion just gloated and aimed a very large hand gun point
blank toward Freddy's face. "MR Escobar said to kill on site anyone found on
the grounds, so game over for you loser."

Before a shot could be fired a hard, undetectable metal sound combining

with a distinct whack suddenly propelled the giant off balance. More similar
sounds exerted and it took Wilson's voice pleading for Freddy to jump in to
fully recognize what was going on?

"Yooo... bud, could use some help here, find out where he dropped his
weapon."

Freddy's senses were dinged pretty severe, especially his vision which
blurred now from gray toward darkness. The big ape really clobbered quite a
concussion into him.

He miraculously remained conscious, humbled on all fours and began feeling

all around him, extending out gradually to inspect a circled perimeter. Both
his ears were now ringing and he felt like vomiting.

Wilson had the bodyguard leveled, but didn't ease up at all with battering
him more with a large iron piece of sewer pipe. "He was cursing the evil man
while crushing bones with every hit.

"Here it is!" Freddy shouted, tossing the gun over to where Wilson's voice
had initially projected.

Wilson wasted no time picking the weapon up and firing a single round to
his victim's head. Out of breath now, he staggered over to Freddy and
collapsed almost wheezing.

"Jesus-f'n-christ, I'm getting too old for this shit." he announced.

"Ha...ha! I'm going to start calling you Danny Glover. You not only sound like
him from Lethal Weapon but you fight like him too." Freddy joked briefly.

"I think thats most of them. I spotted six arriving, with the exception of
Escobar's son, which leaves him and two more inside. I've managed to
takeout four, but I may need you in order to rescue Anita." Wilson steadied.

"You're right. Freddy quickly tallied. Two were fighting Ogre inside and
Cezario had already shot Ogre multiple times. He was going to takeout MR
Albert next, that's when I escaped smashing through a window. I called for
Anita to follow me and we would have both been here safe right now, but she
elected to stay, assumingly worried for her Father's life."

Wilson cursed and then frustratingly rammed back his head into a brick
bordering of the mansion. They were both now huddled behind a large row of
shrubbery stretching a long ways along the East side of the mansion.

"So just what the hell went on in there anyway?"

"Well, basically we just played cards for a few hours and once I got your
note from Anita about the diversion, I decided to royally fuck MR Albert out of
as much money as I could. Then Ogre went ballistic for some unknown
reason and picked a fight with the two goons inside and all hell broke loose
after Anita came in with the clever diversion and the last I detected, Cezario
told MR Albert he was sent to ice him for skimming or ripping off his old man

and thats when I bolted and dammit, Anita just loves her Father too much I
guess. She would have made it Wilson. Had she just followed me. I'm real
sorry, man."

Wilson consoled his friend and then performed a few basic medical checks
with a small pen light he had with him. Freddy definitely had a concussion
and a serious one.

"Bet you didn't know Ogre is really an undercover Government agent?"

Wilson told his friend.

"Noooo way," Freddy astonished.

"Yeeealp. C...I...fucking-A man. I almost didn't believe it myself until I

overheard the first two bodyguards of Escobar at the gate talking about it.
That's how they found out MR Albert was ripping off Pablo Escobar. The CIA
had hard evidence from a trusty paid informant and decided it best to turn
the tables on everyone, especially MR Albert. Cezario goes down for murder
or attempted murder and if caught alive will no doubt be tortured for
information inside GITMO to eventually bring down the entire drug cartel."

"Fuck, we gott'a rescue Anita then." Freddy urged.

He then grabbed one side of his head and bellowed a soft, whispy moan of
pain just as both nostrils began to bleed.

"No! You need to lay back right where you are, keep this torn rag pressed
against the bleeding, keep your eyes and ears open and leave the rest up to
me. I doubt if you can see, much less even walk steady. Hey, just two more
inside, well three and I did arm Anita with an explosive device should she
need it, so I'm not worried about her. She's CIA too, well in training. Mostly

serves as an intelligence gatherer on Escobars drug dealings with MR Albert

here in Miami."

The two friends shared a chuckled, but then when more gunshots erupted
inside, Wilson was forced to bid his trusted comrade adieu.

"I'm going in Pal." Wilson didn't haste to spring into action.

"Here, help me up...I'll be ok, I'll cover your back brother."

Wilson placed a refusing strong mitt to Freddys chest, pinning down all
efforts of his injured friend from getting up and braving any further. Fast
Freddy was one of the only white men Wilson had ever befriended or trusted
after coming home from military service in Korea.

"Not this time, pod'na. You are barely thirty-percent cognitive. I'm going in
alone! I have three pistols, most are fully loaded and Anita is also armed.
Once I have her, we're rushing you out of here and to the best emergency
care The CIA can fund. That's a promise, brother. Just stay here man, you've
contributed enough already.

Peering into the broken window Freddy had leapt out of just moments ago,
Wilson spotted Cezario fighting with MR Albert. The action was too
tumultuous for him to take a shot at well over thirty feet away from outside
looking in, without the assurance of possibly striking MR Albert by mistake.

Where the hell was Anita?

There was another body dressed in a white suit laying in a pool of blood on
the ground and Wilson took the victim as another one of Cezario's
bodyguards. MR Albert was taking a severe beating from Cezario now, who
clearly had the upper hand of youth on his side. Then, completely altering
everything, there was a brief flash of light and then the entire room filled
with smoke. Wilson knew immediately it was the homemade dirty bomb he
had constructed for Anita. But where was she?

Freddy managed to crawl to where Wilson was and pleaded to him for one
of the pistols. Wilson scolded him for being a fool and not staying back, but
complied. The bomb exerted a cloud of much soot out of the broken window
and the two comrades had to retreat back from the house the distance thirty
more feet just to breathe non toxic air.

"Jesus Christ, do you see anything?" Wilson worried.

"No man, I don't. Going in there now would surely bring death.

"Anita....Anita.....Anita!" Wilson cried out.

Immense flames were now engulfing the entire interior of the game parlor.

"Aniiiiiita!" Wilson stammered. His voice trembled fears of the worse

possible outcome.

Less than a minute later a giant shadow could be seen emerging from the
dark, charcoal chaos of smoke and soot directly out of the broken window.

"Keep your pistol trained on whoever it is, but don't fire unless I do." Wilson
commanded. Both men had clean shots at semi-close range if necessary.

Wilson's hand was trembling as extra adrenaline surged throughout his very
core. He wanted to cry out Anita's name again and even dart inside, but was
too much of a nervous wreck to move, fearing for her life.

The big, blocky image was moving slow as hideous coughing sounds could
be heard...it was Ogre. He was covered in blood from the upper torso and
pretty much his entire upper limbs and face aswell. In his arms was MR
Albert, battered less than half as much as his faithful and loyal protector, but
unlike Ogre was unconscious. He managed to stagger forward just ten feet
outside before finally collapsing. Both Wilson and Freddy quickly made their
way to him. Wilson heaved MR Albert's upper body against his own chest and
managed to drag him further out away from the now ferociously burning
mansion.

"Keep your gun aimed incase Cezario comes dashing out." He commanded
Freddy.

Freddy glanced down at Ogre, whose eyes registered the glossy evidence of
death. Judging by what he could detect, he had been shot in the chest five
times and once in the neck, apparently bleeding to death. Yet not before
rescuing beloved boss MR Albert.

Wilson scurried back to where Freddy was positioned and began to demand
from Ogre where Anita was. But just one glance into his soulless eyes
silenced everyone. The fire inside set off two larger explosions and Wilson
immediately collapsed face down to the ground to weep. He kept pounding
the ground bitterly anguishing Anita's name repeatedly.

"Noooo God, nooooo....Anita...Goddammit, not Anita, oh nooo my Anita....."

"No Anita?" A female voice unrepentantly interrupted from behind

everyone. "Don't tell me you are already having second thoughts about
marrying me, cuz I'll kick your old black ass if you break my heart."

Wilson turned around and ran the fastest sprint of his life to his unscathed
fianc. He hugged her tight and cried some more. Joyfully this time. "Oh
Anita, thank God...thank God, I was sooo worried I had lost you."

"Two things." She announced amidst his gripping hug. "One, ease up a little
bit cuz you're squashing my tits and two, you are an atheist, remember?"

Freddy laughed, as did Wilson and mere moments later MR Albert regained
consciousness. Anita & Wilson helped transport MR Albert back to the cabana
as emergency sirens closed in on shredding the night. Anita dialed the phone
inside to contact her superiors at The Miami CIA Field Office.

"Yes Sir, confirmed. Ogre didn't make it, sir. My Father is ok and aside from
mild lacerations and brusies sir, I am just fine...yes sir, no medical attention
needed, however we do have one grounds keeper employed on the property
suffering a severe concussion, requiring immediate stabilization, sir. He is a
hero, Sir. Yes sir, I'd render code 3 at this juncture, full medic hopper
evacuation to the best care Miami has to offer sir. Roger that Captain see
you and the calvary in ten minutes...yes sir, local first responders are now
approaching the scene. No further danger, Sir. Agent Scorpion out!"

Over half the family mansion burned to the ground and for nearly a week
two dozen specialists of The CIA combed through the ashes and debris. Anita

was instantly promoted to coordinate the investigation and was officially

honored as an official CIA Agent. Wilson, Freddy and MR Albert were aboard
MR Alberts yacht approximately fifteen miles off the coast of The Florida
Keys. With no mansion left to go home to, MR Albert decided to purchase a
yacht and enjoy some much needed fishing, sailors rum and many poker
games with his two new best friends Wilson and Freddy until Anita had
completed the fires investigation by week's end.

"Are you sure, Captain?" Anita queried further. "One hundred percent
certainty"

"Yes Ma'am, one hundred percent. We've retrieved two bodies within the
burned down remains of the house and those are skeletal remains of two
very big males. Cezario Escobar is recorded at only five-six, weighing less
than one hundred-forty pounds, Ma'am. Ofcourse full autopsy and DNA
pending, but I've been investigating skeletal remains for nearly a quarter
century covering three cotenants everywhere from Cambodia to Vietnam
and ofcourse here in Miami.I I can affirm without a shadow of a doubt-based
on what Ive initially investigated- Cezario Escobar somehow miraculously
made it out alive. Don't have a clue how or to where, but he's not amongst
the ruins or body count, thats for certain. Ive dispatched had twenty-eight
top forensics and fire specialists of my own and all of us have thoroughly
combed every inch-hell every centimeter of ash-for four days. Four clean
sweeps total, Ma'am. No other evidence to suggest another victim, certainly
not our target Cezario Escobar."

* THE

END *

HaShems Polish Uprising

Her body engulfed his fully aroused manhood as both their bodies rattled in
perfect harmony, brewing to climax together. His penis hardening and

stretched to its most stoic depth after flipping her back from rear entry to
mouth and missionary again. Naomis frail twenty-two year old frame
warmed and shuddered as her lover-a now exiled and hunted young twentysix year old soldier who defected from Hitlers relentless invasion of Poland
thrusted mightily, deeper to absolute orgasmic fulfillment twice this very
morning before the two lovers even searched for the common Jewish
starvation of breakfast.
She gripped his buttocks from below, his toned torso and clawed both
naked cheeks of soldier masculinity savagely, certain to draw bloody claw
marks as he buckled and bellowed several strong streams of semen inside of
her, yet again. His muscled arms and elbows finally gave way while they
both gushed and grew stickier together. He relentlessly collapsed all his
weight ontop of her-quite uncontrollably- while the last of her juices soaked
the filthy, stagnant bare mattress beneath them.
This intertwined love story is one of disheartened chaos, mayhem and
bloodshed. He arrived at the door of her small family farm with a ban of
seven other SS Comrades to arrest her Father and Mother to send off to
Krakw-Paszw . Their misjudged and often propagated crimes were refusal
to report and pay The Third Reicht a small portion of the family farm's gross
earnings. As 1944 Polish Jews, this was most unacceptable and for certain
also sealed the deaths for Naomi Horowit's parents.
Once arrested and heart wretchedly removed by force from the family farm
for documentation and transport, four of the arresting SS officers decided to
return to the household that evening with full intention of gang raping
Naomi. One of the soldiers, the youngest private-a MR Abelard Klaus Meinealready deeply repelled witnessing young Naomi's parents being brutually
dragged from her and overtly beaten and bullied, unexpectantly snapped
himself by turning the tables on his evil comrades. This extremely rare Nazi
soldier- with a heart- murdering each former comrade with his German Lugar
from behind. A complete act of traitor butchery and heroism at the same
time to spare the life of Naomi Horowitz. Only one of the brutal pigs, their
commanding SR SS officer of fifty-seven yrs of age invaded Naomi's virgin
vagina for a brief centimeter before the private went ballistic and killed his
former comrades. This Senior SS Officer was heavily intoxicated, grossly
obese and tore her slightly despite hardly being able to muster an erection
under such belligerence. Over the next three weeks, former SS Private Klaus
Meine nurtured and cared for Naomi's near manic state of mourning and
personal invasion. When her parents were taken, the Nazi soldiers also

executed all farm livestock and burned all adjacent buildings-aside from the
main small home cottage-to the ground. Only a handful of roosters escaped
and Abelard managed their freshly slaughtered meat into a weekly soup
along with some wheat and barley and butter Naomi had managed to
cleverly stash away from detection. She read and taught him-in mutual
English-her families' Jewish customs and ancestry as he himself wept over
the brutalities Hitler's Youth had brainwashed him into the monster he almost
fully evolved into. All the marching and saluting and songs praising Adolf
Hitler-histories most savage dictator of utter and complete methodical evilbut Naomi loved Klaus very deeply. Almost every evening he had to hug and
cradle Naomi who often awoke in the middle of the night agonizingly
screaming with nightmares of her parents being tortured inside Hitler's
Death Camps. Barely resembling a teenager even at age twentymalnourished almost to the level of a thirteen or fourteen year olds
physicality, despite her abnormally tall frame-but alas her timely hero and
Nazi defector Klaus was there. She fell inlove with him the very day he shot
the beast ontop of her attempting to savagely rape her, a bloated Nazi pig
seeking to defile her most sensitive and private domain. Half of his face
bathed her in fleshly tissue and blood, but the maggot stopped breathing
and Klaus-as she prefers-cleaned up and buried all three corpses before the
next winter blizzard struck.
More of Hitler's soldiers returned to the cottage, however Klaus had
managed to also bore a hiding tunnel beneath the burned down barn.
Thankfully to Naomi's God HaShem, the evil soldiers had not returned again
since, nor took time to burn down the only shelter remaining for She and
Klaus to live and suffer inside.
Taking several minutes to catch their breath and regain the senses of
familiar harsh World War Two winter surroundings again, she received several
tender kisses and cooing-always in English-from lovingly doting Klaus, then
got out of bed to place on a warm, thick wool gown to boil a pot of tea over
the small cottage fire place.
Normally Klaus insisted on not producing a fire or any smoke that could
draw another visit from The SS, for he only had four single rounds of
ammunition remaining in his Lugar and a Luftwaffenen dress-bayonette.
Aside from a dozen or so glass farm jars, many ofwhich shattered by the
Nazi's, no other weapons served for their defense.

Klaus dressed in a pair of pants that belonged to Naomi's Father she had
given him, along with his old Hugo Boss tailored shirt commonly worn
beneath the dark black uniform he previously buried with the disposal of his
former comrades. Naomi's Father had very small feet compared to the much
taller and more masculine Klaus, so she allowed her lover to keep his durable
SS Boots inorder to not get frost bite during the extremely untamed winter
evenings.
He went to the window to examine another thick blanket of snow paralyzing
the softly echoing countryside of war ravaged Debica. Once tea had properly
steeped, Naomi joined him with her cup next to the window, both seated in
rocking chairs looking outward. He had already resumed his place in the
large European Bible that belonged to Naomi's Father, intently reading of The
Maccabean Revolt and savoring the first morning comfort of an oval cigarette
with his tea.

"I wonder if the outer agro lands of Warsaw will ever survive to rebuild?" She
thought out loud.

Klaus closed the Bible to answer. "I have not heard word lately of the Warsaw
Uprising, perhaps if...when we journey to reach your Grandfather he will
know more of such?"

This was Naomi's greatest fear. She and Klaus had planned to journey well
over sixty kilometers during the cloud of night, attempting to sneak right
back into occupied Warsaw during the very next forecasted blizzard further
choking hungering Poland. Her Grandfather or 'Pappa' as she had grown up
calling him was Warsaw's most well known and popular boot maker, forced to
create and repair the highest quality boots for the SS. His reward for such,
not being gunned down in his own leather shop infront of his wife and family
who also painstakingly pleased The Nazi's with much drink and forced
whoredom.

The two lovers morning was shattered when Naomi screamed, Noooooo!
Not again, Klaus...looook..."

He immediately shot up out of his chair to retrieve his last remaining four
rounds in his Lugar, which he kept beneath the bed at all times. Coming back
to the kitchen window to pull Naomi away from view he cursed first at how
careless he was not to have watched more closely, but the blizzard was
increasing providing perfect camouflage for the motorized miltary truck
advancing fast toward the cottage. Less than half a kilometer from the tiny
farm house and for certain, more bloodshed.

"Quickly, get completely undressed and lay seductively ontop of the bed.
When they enter they will be caught off guard by your nudity and most likely
desire to rape you. During the brief shock and dismay of finding you so
naked and willing, I will cut them in the knees and legs with all I can muster
from the closet adjacent to the bed and attempt to overpower a rifle or other
weaponry free from the wounded.

"Oh Klaus, there must be half a dozen of them." She began to weep,
frantically.

He hugged her tight, kissed her briefly but passionately, then gently
disrobed her to the frail beauty and soul he fell inlove with and would die
trying to protect. At any cost. Whatever necessary to keep their love alive.

"You must try to stop shaking. He reinforced. Here, lay on your back and
turn your legs and hips like this. You are most beautiful my precious Naomi. I
will keep fighting till there is no blood left within me. Please stop shaking if
all possible, it might tip them off regarding a hidden agenda."

* * *

David Horowitz answered the firm knock with order to open up immediately
in German.

"ffnen Sie auf einmal" It was a Senior Officer wasting no time checking the
next order of boots being made by David and his family for shipment that
very evening.

"Heil Hitler." The officer snapped once inside.

"Heil Hitler." David regrettably replied.

His wife, despite being sixty-nine years of age was a favorite of this
particular SS Officer to indulge in when drunk late in the evening. Hannah
was her name and she was quite striking in beauty, just like her
grandaughter Naomi.
Hannah immediately scurried to fill a glass with rum, the menacing officer's
favorite, which he swallowed down and ordered four succeeding more, all the
time glaring at Hannah's alluring backside.

"Ah, it's been so long since I've enjoyed such hospitable pleasure here
lovely Hannah. Where are your daughters this morning?" The Nazi Pig
inquired.

"They are serving at The Hostel just down the road along Tamka."

The officer chuckled over such thoughts of his fellow comrades lustfully
indulging in such family beauty.

"Do you expect them back this evening, then?"

"Possibly Sir, depending on the blizzard. It is forecast to shut down three

quarters of Europe."

She quickly assembled and served him a hearty meal of baked ham-food
she and husband David never tasted in their lives due to being kosherspecially glazed and baked skinless potatoes and the best homemade
unlevin bread removed from that evening's forthcoming Shabbat celebration
meal. The Nazi Pig demanded the rest of the bottle of rum to wash it all down
with and then ordered David to load the final order of the week into the
armoured car awaiting his return outside.

"I've instructed my driver to reward you with additional food supplies and
wine for your pithy little Sabbath and yes Hannah that blizzard is projected to
shut down all but The Fueher's strikes on those vermin uprisers. Heil Hitler!"

When she did not respond, he abrasively grabbed an individual forearm

after her husband had exited. This officer twisted it especially methodical-the
rum moistening all carnal urges-bending her down and to the side to catch a
forceful ear load.

"I said Heil Hitler, surely you love all The Fuerher has lavished upon this
home, sparing you and your family their very worthless lives. I would say
much grace and mercy deserves instintaneous praise, Heil Hitler, Hannah!"

Her lip trembled as every fabric of soul and unwillingness broke down once
again to accompany the severe pain he was pleasing in torturing.

"Heil Hitler!" She vehemented.

* * *

Two Nazi's met their Lugar counterpart, instantly in the forehead when
storming into the small cottage and freezing in place over the unexpected
sight of a young Naomi spread eagle, looking openly invitational. A third
officer dashed inside when hearing the gun fire and was struck in the back by
his own panicked comrade firing from outside the doorway randomly inside.
Klaus quickly darted to clasp Naomi off the bed and forced her to hide
underneath the steel frame for cover. He then reached for his razor sharp
dress bayonette to sever the jugular of the Nazi soldier shot in the back,
managing stealthily to kick the front entrance shut and bolted, atleast as
temperal defense until he could race out the back with only one bullet left.

"Stay beneath the bed no matter what happens, do not come out until I call
for you."

The Command left his lips just as he slung open the back door. A fifth and
sixth Nazi soldier were already rounding the corner to the left side of the
farm house just as Klaus was preparing to exit and fired several rounds
preventing him from doing so. Two of the rounds just missed his head by
mere inches, splintering the frame of the back door, which he could not close
now. He quickly retreated back to the general living area where Naomi was
hiding.

"Klaus...I'm..."

"Naomi, stay dooown!"

He could hear the other soldiers entering the house from the back and
nervously shook to unfriend a fresh Lugar from one of the dead soldiers
bleeding the floorboards. Klaus fired frantically in all directions toward the
back of the house, once emptying one lugar, he strived for another and a
third, all from those he had just luckily executed moments ago.

Return fire ceased and once again all he possessed was a single round
remaining in addition to the dress bayonette, convienently filed into his inner
waiste band just incase...

Slowly inching his way along the riddled far wall adjacent to the kitchen
serving his only meager shield, he managed to peer through a large hole
several exchanged rounds had indwelled. Another corpse was laying
facedown in its own brain, bone and bloody river. Sounds of feet crunching
ice, slowly exerted just outside the open back entrance. Klaus ran toward the
door, his blood pulsating an entirely new surge of adrenalyne. Retreating out
back to his left again was another soldier obviously wounded by gunshots
and ailing to scamper away. He was out of amunition- it would appear- and
kept slogging on one good leg while tripping and fighting just to crawl away
toward any random safety. Klaus ran a few steps forward, steadied his aim
for his last round and fired square in the back center of the Nazi Soldiers
skull, instantly limping the life right out of him.

Rushing back inside to Naomi he had lost count of how many hostiles
threatened them and was stopped in his tracks at one last soldier less than
twelve feet from him with a Lugar centered upon his chest.

"Hands up now ... Kapitulation ... du bist ein Gefangener der Furher ..."

The soldier was young, appeared very frightened standing in the bloody
mire of all his comrades and being the lone survivor. His hands were
trembling despite being at such armed advantage infront of Klaus.

Klaus raised his hands as ordered, then squinted and astoundedly smiled at
his captor. His own breath near weezing with unbelievability to keep up with
his maddening heart rate. Although he hadn't seen his old comrade from
Hitlers Youth in close to four years, there was no mistaking it was infact

Frans Kimmler. A boy just thirteen years of age when training together back
in Berlin. They were best friends before being ordered to seperate batallions.

"It's ok, Frans it's me. It's Abe, from Berlin. I will not harm or resist you."

"Abelard? What...what's..." The young man stammered, completely aghast.

Naomi wiggiled out from underneath the bed and that alarmed Frans into
instinctively training his Lugar upon her. Klaus dashed between his range of
fire with both arms still raised and waiving frantically for peaceful resolve.

"No Frans, she's my wife. You must not harm her. Holster your weapon and
sit down, we have much to discuss."

The armored military truck Frans drove was armed with plenty of resistance
in the form of Walther P38,Walther PP, PPK,Luger P08 and Dreyse M1907
hand guns,Gewehr 41, Gewehr 43, MauserKarabiner 98k and Gewehr 98
rifles and the real treasure trove in the mission of rescuing Naomi's family
and warring to cross into heavily hostile occupied territory, were one MP
18/MP 28MP and two 34MP 35 sub machine guns. Both Naomi and Klaus
(Abe) told Frans of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, sharing brief stories
from The Torah and their faith concerning how this God will rescue his people
from Hitler over time as promised and how important it is to remain faithful
in both faith and law, Sabbath/Holiday observance and by all means never
giving into pagan or babylonian idols, nor the occult as Adof Hitler has.
Klaus revolted but having no choice, had to suit back up in a dead soldier's
uniform from the farm massacre inorder to avoid suspicion along the Nazi
run highways leading into central Warsaw. Naomi was kept in back hidden
amongst their coveited arsenal, gven a rifle to use should any SS border
guards grow suspicious of the blood on Klaus' uniform and desire to take a

peek around back. Fran's confessed of his previous mission along with his
now dead comrades to attack the farm house and arrest Naomi after gang
raping her and to burn down the remainder of the farmlands, including the
cottage before he and his other five comrades delivered weaponry further
North to Kobylka. The SS caught onto smoke signals a week prior and figured
AWOL and traitor Klaus had made his way there, just completely unattune to
the severity of He and Naomi's relationship.
Frans so desperately desired to know this professed God, a God of such
immaculate forgiveness and mercy, but could not grasp ever being forgiven
of all the ordered murder he himself so viciously abided in for The Nazis.
They stopped at a farm just twenty-four kilometers Northwest from
occupied Warsaw at a neighboring farm in Targowek who was very close
friends with Naomi's family. Not sure if the Nazi uniformed defectors should
hop out and investigate the farm or safer if Naomi called out and searched in
her native language, Klaus decided the three of them together would check
things out. They parked the large Opal Blitz at the very entrance to the large
open drive extending about a quarter mile from the farm. The air was vacant
and stagnant as blizzard snow really began pouncing down, almost obscuring
view with military binoculars.

"What do you think?" Klaus surmised after handing Frans the extra pair of
eyes.

"I think if there is anyone inside, they are hiding and are frightened of the
truck. I agree we should all three go, perhaps wave a flag of surrender."

Klaus agreed and both men made sure Naomi was trailing well behind
them. Thankfully there were a few blankets she could wrap herself with as
the winds howled and snow seemed like cold, shearing razors against any
exposed flesh. Both Klaus and Frans tore more fabric to wrap around fallen
tree branches and proceded slowly waving them upwards and from side to
side. Naomi was ordered to trail behind ten feet at all times so as not to be in
sniper range, just incase any habiters inside decided to do just as Klaus and
now Frans had against any SS uniformed invaders.

All remained silent and visibility increased slightly as the mid afternoon
darkened. The smell of death and rot and burning decay was prevelant and
this immediately sank Naomis spirit. Naomi ofcourse was hoping any
member of the Kunitka family had managed to escape deportation to Death
Camps. Her Mother and Father were especially good friends with Johann and
Martha. Both obtaining their land after serving in WW1, their son Anton and
daughter Anna-both of whom Naomi help raise and played alongside since
babies-were just the crown jewels of the family. Little darling sweet Anna who
dreamed of one day becomming a pianist and opera singer. Her natural thick
blonde curls much like America's popular Shirly Temple, so beautiful and
magnificant. Anton, so handsome and strong like his Father, obeying and
respectful to the core, desiring only to farm and one day keep the forty acre
farm in the family and marry a good catholic woman just like his Papa had.

Closing within just twenty yards of the one story, picturesque wooden
timber house, a house even Naomi herself help paint when just a small child
of dark brown and yellow, Klaus felt Naomi calling out in her native language
would most suit and relax any armed family inside. He kept her behind a
large oak tree which also benefitted with a snow covered broken carriage
directly beside it for extra shielding just incase gunfire erupted.

"Stay halfway behind the tree, by just peeking slightly around. Do not
expose your torso or legs." Klaus reaffirmed.

Everyone was growing increasingly nervous, especially Naomi. A closer look

revealed even more unstrewn of a ghostly vacancy, all outer signs of zero
snow or ice removal, nor lights or any adjustments to a near collapsed large
eave over the front entrance of the home. She prayed to HaShem for atleast
the sparing of the children from Hitler's Death Camps and then called out
first to family friends Johann and Matrtha, then more desperate pleas to the
children as their precious memory welled many tears to stream down her
face.

"Johann, Matrtha ... jest ok, to jest Naomi. Ci onierze s w przebraniu. Nie
bd ci skrzywdzi, s one czci ruchu oporu. Jestemy tutaj, aby

uratowa was i wady bezpieczestwa. Anna ... Anton, jest Naomi. Zadzwo
do mnie jeli mnie syszysz ... prosz, kto, ci onierze uratowali mnie i tutaj
pomc. Mamy ciepe koce i przekski ... "

After four appeals and still silence, Klaus and Frans decided to advance
forward and check inside. Klaus embraced a terrified, weeping and shaking
Naomi who could barely stand under her own power.

"Oh my, Anton and precious little Anna. They have been captured and
deported I just know it. Oh my, how could anyone harm such beauty and
innocense, how could...such evil...be permitted in any Nation, by
anyone...The bastards...those evil Nazi bastards...they were such lovely
children..."

"Shhh...there, there...both children could be inside scared into hiding. Their

parents could have even dug them a a secret trench below the floor boards
of the kitchen months ago, with adequate supplies until someone came to
rescue them, they could be in there right now and Frans and I will definitely
rescue them. I need you to remain behind this carriage and sit and do not
look out at the house again until we have thoroughly searched inside."

He assisted his mortified lover into the crest of a hollowed out half belly
carriage that Frans actively took upon himself to clear for her. Between the
carriage and the snow, she would be safe as long as neither man got shot.

Frans approached her to place a soothing hand upon her soldier.

"I promise you Naomi, everything will be fine. We are going inside with sub
machine guns and pistols, there is no way any opposition will defeat us."

Klaus hugged her one final time, tightly and a little longer than usual.

"I love you, please try not to worry." He attempted to reassure.

Kissing her strong and passionately once again as she barely was willing to
let go of him, she rattled out a forceful,

"I love you and Hashem is with us, I have faith in him and in you."

Still no signs of habitance when He and Frans reached the large den window
beside the front entrance. The entire living area and kitchen could be viewed
from outside-looking in-and the place was completely astrewn. Klaus spoke in
German first, then in English announcing Naomi's name twice.

Complete silence shattered the swirling blizzard air most eerily.

Frans found the front door unlocked and slowly advanced inside, Klaus
followed behind with a raised pistol atop one of his comrades shoulders to
steady his aim incase there were Nazi's planning an ambush inside. It took
only a few moments to discover the house had been long abandoned. The
Nazis had managed to break and destroy most furnishings and the small
wood burning stove displayed no signs of recent life. Frans discovered four
bullet holes in the kitchen and bathroom with traces of dried blood splattered
on the walls. The two then proceeded to scan for any rations, anything at all
but returned to Naomi just as empty as when they first approached.

Naomi collapsed into Klaus' arms weeping more intense-entirely gut

wretching- when he informed her how sorry he was they had found traces of
blood and bullet holes inside suggesting a massacre.
She desired to die right then and there in his arms, however HaShem was
with them.
*

Hannah Horowitz closed the shudders of her husband's boot shop and
proceded to place the challah bread upon the table, along with other small
platters of kosher meat the SS had brought the family as a reward for their
extra demanding week of work. Her husband bathed and then dressed in a
prayer shawl, awaiting sundown for his wife to light the candles.

An unexpected knock erupted, instantly shattering the meager, but happy

pre Shabbat meal. Hannah ran to the door and couldn't believe her eyes or
ears. It was her youngest daughter Rachel with urgent news. Her older sister
Leah had managed to shoot and kill three Nazis and escaped the forced
prostitution at The Hostel. She is alive but wounded in one foot. Two children
aided her below a bridge to hide and she has blankets and a bottle of
Russian vodka, however curfew has set in and following the bold massacre,
literally hundreds of soldiers have penetrated the slums raiding and
executing anyone within sight to serve as repramand for the slain three
Nazis inside the Hostel.

"No, I must go. My daughter. I cannot have her in the blizzard hurt."

Hannah fought to break her husband's restraint.

"Please David, she is our child...she urgently begged"

Another knock on the door shrilled everyone and David this time retrieved a
small pistol he had stashed and hadn't used since the Nazi's first invaded
Warsaw. If there were soldiers on the other side of the door again, this time
he would kill them for harming his daughter.
Cracking the door open just inches he peered out, then dropped the pistol
to the floor behind the door to widen it completely. His expression displayed
shock aswell as urgency.

"Leah! Oh my, where did they hurt you? Come in, quickly!"

Two small children continued to embrace her and assist with getting her
into a seated position near the kiln. Hannah dashed over to care for the knife
wound severing one achiles tendon.

The children gave hugs to Hannah and helped her boil water and tear fresh
sheets to sanatize to serve as dressing bandages. Anna was dressed
explicitly by whoever adopted she and her brother Anton. Both children
looked healthy and very well taken care of. Their new German Family was
dining at The Hostel when violence broke out, followed by gunshots and Leah
being stabbed attempting to get away. The small children recognized her and
later escaped their adoptive German families to track her down below the
bridge. She would be ok now, but would others recognize who she was and
come to massacre the entire family? It was on the minds of everyone inside
when Hannah lit the Shabbat candles an hour later and read in Hebrew
ceremonial prayers ushering in Shabbat.

Rachel fixed her older sister a larger plate of food than all the rest of the
family would consume that evening and hugged her very tight.

" Pretty dumb move on my part Sis, I could have just gotten us all killed."

Anna and Anton left the table to hug Leah aswell, followed by Hannah and
her husband David.

"No sister, you simply couldn't take any more abuse. You did exactly what
you should have. It is Shabbat now and there is no reason to fear. Those
brutal pigs deserved to die. HaShem understands. Rachel reassured.

There were road checkpoints scattered everywhere and with the added
weapons, Klaus, Frans and Naomi gallantly succeeded tearing their way
through two of them, murdering all Nazi soldiers on guard. Atleast thirteen in
all at two checkpoints.

"How will we get such a massive vehicle into Warsaw, it is curfew?" Frans
asked Klaus in a unified debate within the four kilometer mark.

Klaus pulled over and had Naomi drive the rest of the distance while He and
Frans bravely got ontop of the truck's icy canopy. Klaus would smack the top
of the truck with his palm when he sited the next checkpoint or mass of
soldiers within proximity of striking and that would signal Naomi to pull the
truck over to abandon for them to carry as much as they can by foot the rest
of their brave journey away from danger. The winter storm was now a thick
haze of inpenetrable resistance, swirling and howling as if from the bowls of
hell itself, yet greatly aided their approach within two kilometers of The Wisla
River that cut through the heart of occupied Warsaw.

Klaus elected to carry two Gewehr 98 rifles, three Lugars and one Walther p
38. Frans loaded up an additional Walther, along with several Dreyse M1907
hand guns and Klaus handed Naomi charge of all the remaining weapons
that she could muster to carry. Each of them was further weighed down by
atleast one hundred pounds of additional weight, however still deeply
determined like fire and ultimate vigor to rescue family and successfully
escape Nazi occupied Poland with their families alive.

"No stop, we must pray to HaShem before we dare forward." Naomi paused.

Frans kind of shrugged with slight reserve as Klaus motioned for them to
huddle together. As Naomi prayed the most intense prayer of her life,
suddenly a warm, glimmering glow of light and love enveloped the three. It
was magnificant aswell as Holy. A pure white light from The Divine

protectively combatting the sheering blizzard winds that bore no further

sting as snow cascaded several feet away from them. The trio joyed, gave
thanks to HaShem and were optimistic over the apparent Holy sealing inside
a special Christmas ornament bubble that could not be shaken or destroyed
by the enemy.

"Do you feel that!" Naomi excited.

Pure, loving and comforting euphoria continued to shower their ever being.

Frans reached up to remove his helmet and humbly bowed to one knee
praising HaShems miracle.

"Glorious Lord, I have murdered and raped and stolen. This was evil beyond
my own understanding, perpetraiting great harm upon others. But now I
know you are the one, true God of Israel and my faith and destiny lies with
your grace. Amen!"

Klaus smiled glowingly for the first time since making love to Naomi. Only
this Heavenly brillance was a Holy miracle. The soapy glow stayed with
them, it was warmer and possessed such enormous agape love, even
weighed down with weapons Naomi skipped and clapped and together the
three felt completely guided and unafraid.

"Praise HaShem!" Both Frans and Klaus miracled

"Yes, Praise our most high and abundant God! Ameeen!" Naomi sang.

"This is utterly amazing, I feel nothing but warmth." Frans joyed, whispering
to the others while chest deep crossing the half frozen Wisla River just north
of the deadliest Nazi check point, 719 most Swietokrzyski bridge entering the
Warsaw ghetto.

It was dark now and visibility guided only by a series of railroad tracks
which housed shanty but workable electricity.

How many Jews and Polish citizens were crated up like vermin and shipping
off to death camps on these very rail tracks? Klaus thought to himself as
they followed Naomi Northward toward Karowa street. The warming presence
of Hashem stayed with them, then Naomi stopped to prophesi they needed
to ditch all weapons for HaShem's grace and divine province to continue.

"What?" Frans ridiculed. " We cannot travel through occupied Warsaw on

foot unarmed after curfew. We will all be executed and we've come so far.
Klaus, surely you realize we need to remain armed atleast until we reach our
destination."

Naomi turned to her lover to urgently make him understand what God was
speaking to her. She immediately relinguished all heavy weapons she was
carrying to the ground and grabbed Klaus' shoulders while staring
convincingly deep into his ice blue eyes. Her glare was of love but also
direness for them to display their faith and trust in HaShem instead of
weapons.

"Klaus, you must listen. HaShem has guided us and protected us this entire
long battle, but we must stop killing. If not the miracle alone of receiving His
warmth and being able to cross the Wisla during a blizzard without any cold
or dampness or harm, please trust what I am telling you. Our merciful God
did not bring us this far past deadly checkpoints and safely escaping the
farmhouse to fail and we have such a short distance to go. Not even four

blocks. There will be food and wine and warmth where my family is. We will
all be safe there. The uprising is gaining strength every day and we can
merely hide these weapons, though I trust in HaShem we will not need to
come back for them. Please my love, I beg you!"

Klaus stared at Naomi's dire conviction. Her green eyes, the very deep
emerald jewels he so enjoyed looking into when making love and cuddling
afterwards further kindled the really absorbing prowess of the loving warmth
embracing them.

"Frans, I cannot make up your mind for you. But I do feel Naomi is
channeling HaShem's will for us."

He then collected all the guns and grenades both he and Naomi were
carrying and stored them inside a small tin shack, to hide them just incase
they were forced on the run again if trapped inside the Warsaw ghetto.

Frans suddenly snapped fully erect and began shivering. "Bbbrrrrrrr...it's

cold again. All of the sudden all the frigidness of the blizzard has returned.

Frans had not been with them long enough to fully give his faith and trust
over to this God HaShem. He refused to be unarmed while inside the Warsaw
ghetto, despite the remaining distance being so small to travel, just mere
blocks.

How can this be? My clothes are soaked from the river, yet when crossing I
felt...noth..."

Naomi suddenly rushed over to Frans hoping she could pry all his weapons
free for him. He defied her at first, but the blizzard's wind sheer began
numbing all limbs almost instanteniously. Frans had seen black foot and frost

bite many times amongst other comrades and as his senses dimmed, his
body quickening toward hypathermia, his lips turned purple and teeth
shuddered excessively.

"Frans, let go. Just release the weapons. We must not kill anymore. The
warming love of HaShem left you paralyzed like this in the cold because of
your stubborn unwillingness, just let go. Naomi pleaded. Simply let go of
these murderous weapons of war. We must not kill anymore." She further
warned.

Frans collapsed to the ground, his hair completely iced over with a ghostly
face brimming hypathermias eventual death. Klaus now ran over to assist
Naomi with dismantling all weapons from Fran's person. As soon as the very
last amunition clip was released to the ground, the loving warmth of Hashem
instantly returned to Frans. All ice instantly vanished, clothes dry once again
and full use of limbs warmly returned, so soothing and loving.

"Forgive me." He wispered. "Yes, I am a stubborn fool."

"Quickly now, we are just mere blocks away. Oh, I can hardly contain my
excitement. I just know Grand Papa & Grandma Hannah are ok."

David Horowitz jolted out of his seat at the dinner table when several
distinct loud rappings from outside the shop shook the Shabbat table from
within. He began to search for where he placed his small pistol, but wife
Hannah pleaded with him not to use it.

"No husband, that won't get you far. Think of your daughters and little Anna
and Anton. We are willing to die for them, but if you try fighting the Nazi's,

they will kill even the smallest and most innocent and then our family is
extinct forever from God's Earth. Leah is sound asleep on a cot behind all
your shelving, they won't find her there....and the children... I'll hide them
beneath your large lathes. The children are very fast, they can run if...oh
David please just trust me."

""Grand Papa ... Matka Hannah, otworzy si na jestemy zimno!"

Hannah startled over the voice on the other side of the door. Her face
suddenly beamed as her husband David finally released the small pistol back
upon the bookshelf where he had found it.

"That's Naomi! Oh my, that cannot be anyone but Naomi's voice, I am

certain of it." He concurred to his wife.

Together they raced to open the shop door and a gust of winter wind blew in
a heap of snow drift. But beyond the blizzard was the frail, but beautifully
beaming face of Grandaughter Naomi. David held a forceful arm back to
prevent his wife from darting outside to receive their Grandaughter. Klaus
and Frans-though unarmed-were still dressed in Nazi uniforms stained with
blood.

"No Hannah, it is a trick...but how could you Naomi, why? We are your
family." Grand Papa feared betrayal at the sight of the two Nazi uniformed
men.

Naomi advanced a couple of steps closer. "No Papa, it's ok. They are in
disguise. We had to dress like this inorder to get through all the check points
and into Warsaw."

She hooked a single arm into Klaus and then kissed his nearest cheek. "This
is Klaus, he saved my life." She then stretched the opposite direction to give
Frans a peck on the cheek. "And this is Frans. They are both defectors who
rescued me and led me back home safe to be with you. Klaus and I will
marry, they are Godly men whom HaShem touched, no more war Papa. No
more violence.

Once inside, Rachel leapt up from the table to rush over and hug the
beloved cousin she hadn't seen in over a year. "Oh Naomi, you are alive. My
goodness, you are alive!"

"Thanks to Klaus, he saved me from invading Nazi's at the farm house. We

fell inlove and plan to marry...and this is Frans, he too fought bravely to get
us back into Warsaw."

Rachel greeted both men with hugs and kisses, followed with hospitable
Sabbath wine and kosher hot stew and bread these two heroes deserved.

"Leah was injured earlier this day, a foot injury that will heal. There is no
need to worry. She needs to rest, but we'll awake her in a couple of hours so
you can visit with her." Hannah informed.

Naomi's joy exumed beyond expectation. David rummaged through some

old, dusty shop clothes for Klaus and Frans to change into.

"They may smell like leather and sweat, but that is better than Nazi blood,
eh?"

Rachel fetched one of Hannah's clean night gowns from a back room closet
and immediately began cleansing and brushing cousin Naomi's lovely long
red hair.

Once everyone was cleaned up and seated at the table lavishing over wine
and reunion happiness, Hannah excused herself for a moment. Her husband
looked at her inquisitively as to what in the world she were up to?

She winked at her husband, then simply replied "Some of the greatest
miracles come in the smallest packages."

" Grand Papa, what does Mother mean by that?"

Before David Horowitz could answer, a bolt of speed deriving from Anna and
Anton cruised past everyone to surge love on Naomi.

She squeeled in estatic shock, knocking a tub of hair pins and all Rachel
brought in to beautify her to scoop up both children into her arms, convinced
she would never again let go of them.

Finally after several minutes of hugs and kisses and much tears of joy shed,
Naomi released both children to a single knee on her lap and assured in
laughter Rachel could continue cleansing and styling her hair.

She amazed over how big they had grown since last seeing them and
began sobbing rejoicefully again.

"They helped Leah escape after being injured from the brothel." Hannah
proudly informed.

"Oh precious Anna, lovely Anton...I feared and prayed and hoped..."she was
overcome once again with tears of joy and relief.

Anton spoke up first. "No need to fear for us Aunt Naomi, we can out fox
those Nazi pigs."

The entire room erupted in joint laughter. Klaus and Frans toasted fresh
fillings of wine, saluting little Anton's vigor.

Anna snuck her face up to gently kiss Naomi's cheek while using a soft hand
to dry the tears in that region, then whispered to her "Besides, I still have to
achieve being the greatest female pianist and opera singer in Europe."

* THE END *

There's a long road of suffering ahead of you. But don't lose courage. You've
already escaped the gravest danger: selection. So now, muster your
strength, and don't lose heart. We shall all see the day of liberation. Have
faith in life. Above all else, have faith. Drive out despair, and you will keep
death away from yourselves. Hell is not for eternity. And now, a prayer - or
rather, a piece of advice: let there be comradeship among you. We are all
brothers, and we are all suffering the same fate. The same smoke floats over
all our heads. Help one another. It is the only way to survive.
Elie Wiesel, Night

Thou shalt not be a victim, thou shalt not be a perpetrator, but, above all,
thou shalt not be a bystander.
Yehuda Bauer

If we bear all this suffering and if there are still Jews left, when it is over,
then Jews, instead of being doomed, will be held up as an example.
Anne Frank

Secrets Can Be Deadly

"So why the fuck are we here? Someone please remind me why I had to
leave my killer place in line for Slayer tickets!" Reggie was furious, puffing
away on a freshly lit Marlboro Red cigarette, his fourth within the last ten
minutes after arriving at the ocean view bluff just north of Malibu.

"I told you when you peeled in spitting gravel all over everyone we have to
wait for Gary to arrive before we inform everyone what's going on. He texted
me fifteen minutes ago saying he's almost here, it shouldn't be much
longer." Gayle Hollie eased.

The only other couple present atop the Malibu lookout was nerdy Philip and
Meagyn Priestly. He was just picking her up for the two to travel to Comic
Con in Seattle, Philip taking an extra couple of days off from his professorship
at UCLA so he and wife Meagyn, a very pregnant near term Meagyn eased
into buzzing, high energy Comic Con.

Reggie, with his sleeveless Dead Kennedys throwback t-shirt and torn, well
worn and bleached blue jeans with usual racist Black Doc Marten boots and
big, black Nazi swastika tattoo kicked more gravel everyone's direction while
cursing.

"Hell, the way Gary drives like some goddamn-freak'n-turtle, the ticket office
will be closed by the time I beat it back to LA. If that yuppie fuck thinks I'm
not mosh'n at Slayer, he'd better quit playing horse Polo or try not so hard to
get into Harvard Law. Too damn cold in Boston anyway, doesn't make any
sense just like all of us suddenly driving up here to Malibu just to pace and
kick gravel.

"Yo Reg, can you just-like-chill for once and not blow cigarette smoke our
direction please. It could harm our baby. " Meagyn asserted.

"Fuck off! It's a free country." He maddened further. "Look-ee-here Gayle, you
said it involved you know what and that was two years ago, so I figured the
heat was suddenly catching up or something. But if Gare ain't here by the
time I finish another goddamn cigarette, I'm outt'a here and I'm kicking
pretty boy Faunteroy's ass next time I see him for making me drive all the
way up here for nothing if I wind up missing mosh'n at Slayer. The worthless
yuppie fuck!"

Just as Reggie intentionally exhaled more smog spitefully toward both tiny,
Asian Meagyn and her normally benevolent husband Phililip's direction and
then creepily spat in a single palm to pat down his dyed red, yellow and
black spiked hair, Gary Grahams's distinct ocean blue BMW Convertible
slowed down to a crawl to park and cut off his headlights.

Before he could even fully get out of the driver's seat to kiss girlfriend Gayle,
Reggie was already up in his face demanding an answer to the mystery of
why they were all gathered all of the sudden.

Reggie, extending his arms in ferried unbelievability, barked "So what's the
big secret, Pal? Hungh? You have no fucking idea what I had to blow to race
here for your girlfriend just to tell me I had to wait for you to arrive. Well,
we're all here, so what fucking gives, bucko?"

"Hey Ya Gary, how have you been?" Philip nodded from fifteen feet away
while Meagyn waved in unison with a warm smile.

"Who cares how the fuck he's doing, what's the big deal here, chief?" Reggie
further rattled.

Gayle quickly crossed between Reggie and her man for a quick kiss. "Hey
baby, just tell them."

"Oh, now it's The Dating Game all the sudden? Yes, Gary-man, pah'leeease
just fucking tell us, already. Jesus-f'n-christ!"

Gary wasted no time producing a manila envelope as everyone gathered

around him to examine the contents within.

"For the past two weeks I have been receiving a few notes and Gayle has
received anonymous phone calls concerning what each of us vowed to never
speak of again. I brought all three notes, one mailed to my office, another
placed on my car at the parking garage at work and the third was placed
inside my mail box at home, which understandably is why I thought it best to
gather everyone."

Reggie snatched up all three notes to examine first before passing them
around.

The first read, Hello Handsome, I'm baaaaaack...the second, I am still mad at
all five of you, and the third note which was delivered to Gary's house feared
a convincing, Almost time for my revenge, who will be first?

Meagyn immediately tensed and began crying. "No...no, this can't be. She's
dead. There is no way possible...oh my God..."

Phillip hugged his pregnant wife, whispering for her to calm down.

"Oh give me a fucking break! Reggie rationalized. That cunt is dead, we all
know it. She bled like a stuck pig in the movie Carrie, we were all there, so
what the fuck is up?"

Gayle spoke up next, "What's up Reggie and everyone is someone found out
about what happened from one of us obviously or else there is a family
member overseas here in America seeking revenge. I brought with me a tape
from my home answering machine and I think you'll discover these
messages I've been receiving to be quite eerie."

Goodevening Gayle, this is Mim Ryu. About this evening I'm afraid I cannot
make it but promise to kill you at a future date.

A couple of more messages proceeded along the same nature, each

specifically mentioning all their names individually.

Even Reggie was alarmed slightly when the female voice identified he would
die also.

"Oh Jesus...is that...but how...oh my God, that's her isn't it?" Meagyn feared.

"No, I tell you there is no way Reggie argued further We were all there
on Halloween. Heck I was the one who decapitated her whenwell, you all
know what we did to her and we all buried her a long ways away, nobody
saw it, manthere just isnt any she was under water for a very long time
before we left, remember?"

"It's her voice alright, Reggie." Gayle confirmed. "I was her roommate in
college and I know that voice. Gary remembers her voice too and he believes
she somehow survived and may be targeting all of us next."

The conversation turned next toward what to do and everyone-with the

exception of tough guy Reggie- also alarmed toward more confusion.

"Fuck this bullshit." Reggie announced proceeding over to his Shelby

Mustang. "I'll track that gook bitch down and burn her this time. Ya'll enjoy
living in fear, I'm putting word out on the street with an added five-thou
reward for anyone who can track this cunt down and I'll deal with her
permanently this time! Catch you hosiers later!"

With the heavy revving of the rebuilt 65 Mustang engine and one last failed
plea from Gary for him to stick around to help think out a better strategy,
Reggie gunned the mustang quickly into full throttle and raced away back to
Los Angeles.

"Jesus Christ, he's going too fast. Is he on drugs?" Gayle noticed first,
approximately two minutes later.

The mustang shrilled out several sharp echoes from barely half a mile away
down the long coastal stretch that careened downhill with very sharp curves
and gaining speed quickly, atleast ninety miles per hour by the time all else
cared to notice.

"Oh- my- gaaaawd, what's he doing...he can't possibly..." Meagyn attempted

but was too late.

At the very last left turn, the tightest by far, The Mustang rolled completely
over three times and then was smacked hard against a single big tree
hovering behind a shanty guard rail. The now multi metal scrap Mustang was
instantly projected high into the air, exploding in an immense fire ball before
jutting outward and down a steep embankment of several hundred feet.

Reggie's funeral produced quite an ensemble of attendees. He had been the

head bartender at The Burgundy Room on North Cahuenga Boulevard before
going to jail for assaulting a customer with an empty vodka bottle and
serving over a year in jail. For years Reggie was notoriously known as the go
to guy for cocaine and pills or even back room prostitution when formerly
employed at The Burgundy Room. Everyone from bikers to popular heavy
metal band members knew him and a small band of mostly men showed up
to pay their respects in burying a seedy Los Angeles legend. Phillip and
Meagyn decided not to attend the funeral, citing quickly their personal
confession to never liking Reggie after he had done his jail time for assault.

The guy just became a relentless monster after doing time and he was
already crazy, scary to begin with. Philip told Gary and Gayle

However Halloween Night 1987 at The Burgundy Room unfortunately

brought this maniac into their lives-quite unexpectedly, most regrettably-and
with the baby due to arrive this month, Philip especially didn't want any
further negative emotions affecting his wife and their pregnancy.

Gayle especially felt over dressed, noting most attending the funeral were
either wearing biker colors or displaying black leather and racist tattoos. She
dressed in a traditional black sun dress with a low cut neck exposing ample
cleavage that attracted many intoxicated men throughout the course of the
funeral, which consisted of a handful of hoodlums toasting beer and liquor
when describing decadent adventures with old pal Reggie. Several attendees
were drinking from flasks during the satanic service, performed by an
ordained member of The Church of Satan hierarchy in San Francisco.
Gary could only remain quiet-almost a ghost amongst such rip-roaring, dark
company-He knew Reggie was a proud, self processed Satanist and he
himself was a very privileged UCLA Grad school Bruin. Gary had never
worked a job in his life until becoming a professor. He enjoyed playing

cricket, horse polo and chess and often dining out with girlfriend Gayle.
Halloween Night just two years ago was a mistake for them both and
especially Gayle to involve themselves with and whoever was out to get
revenge was already morbidly succeeding by killing Reggie.

"Say there sweet soul sister, is this your brother or your banker?"

A particularly large and overly hairy biker approached them just as they were
leaving the funeral. He had atleast five inches on his beard, a shaved head,
tattoos trekking up and down every conceivable spot of flesh, wore filthy
pants and an open leather biker vest, unbuttoned exposing more
neanderthal hair which was rabid amongst his gross DNA. An enormous pig
gut jutted out proudly seeking to poke beautiful Gayle Hollie. He reached in
his pocket to retrieve a fresh warm twelve ounce can of Budweiser and
cracked it open with his ape-ish mitts.

"So like if this is your brother little dolly, I figure maybe you're in need of
some one to one consoling. Afterall, Reggie was a hell of a guy."

"Gary Graham the third, I don't believe we've met." Gary nervously stepped
forward with an extended hand.

Gayle had a real bad feeling something bad was about to happen.

The biker took half a step back after refusing to accept preppie Gary's
handshake and gnarled his filthy yellow teeth at him in almost a bewildered,
cackling hyena laugh of audacity. He looked Gary up and down closely-very
closely-from his powder blue tweed sweater over perfectly pressed bright
yellow dress shirt down to his seven hundred dollar penny loafers, almost
chuckling by this time.

"Well...well...well, you don't say? Gary Graham the third...hee...heepardon

me if I dont pass The Grey Poupon ole Gary Graham the third." The
gruesome biker mocked and then let out a real blast of a smelly fart. "Ooopssee-daisyhad scrambled eggs with pigs brains and a few early morning
shots of whiskey before riding all the way down from San Fran. I especially
apologize to you little muffin that I'd like to take a big bite into." He then
turned to Gary again to poke more sarcastic fun. " So was there like a colony
of you rich, preppie fags migrating to LA or some shit and please enlighten
me on how you attracted such a foxy little lady here...mmm...mmm momma,
you got a real nice tight looking caboose and busty rack there, sexy. We
bikers tend to grab what we like, but you ole chap...ole Gary Graham the
third must of come from some rich hippie colony or something, cuz I'm
getting all these square vibes from you, man."

Gayle reached out to pull Gary back toward her and then decided to shoot
this intoxicated maggot down to his own level.

"Excuse me, but Gary is my fianc and is the only man I am inlove with, so I
really don't mean any offense to you Sir, but he is the only guy here I'll be
leaving with. Come on honey, I believe it's well time we go."

This didn't please the grizzly biker. Infact he seemed to be growing even
more pissed off. He managed to smack Gayle hard on her rear end and upon
doing so, she and Gary kept marching around and away from the rude
vermin biker to depart from the cemetery.

"Woo-wee, that's a nice tight little ass you got there Little Red Riding Hood.
Didn't take in the full view till I smacked it. You uhlike a big strong man
smacking your ass, foxy?"

They kept walking toward Gary's BMW in silence and the biker kept following
to exert further provocative innuendoes until Gary finally twirled around with
a small hand gun aimed at him. It was just a little pee shooter, but it would
indeed fire and kill at close range.

"That will be enough now, you cretin. I find you repulsive, rude and the
uttermost disrespectful. Keep the hell away from us or I won't hesitate to pull
the trigger."

"Gary...no, oh god there's more coming...loook!" Gayle screamed at the sight

of a pack of a half dozen more bikers, all bearing the same leather vest
quickly advancing to back up their indisposed brother. To everyone's
surprise, the lead biker actually raised up an arm gesturing his comrades to
back off, which they did instantly. He then turned his beastly vileness back to
Gary and Gayle and spoke chillingly to both their cores.

"Theres only four of you left and I am still mad at all of you. More death will
come."

Gayle's breath inhaled fear. The voice of this brute sounded just like Mim Ryu
as if he were possessed by her spirit to deliver one threatening sentence
specifically for she and Gary. The biker turned away, not appearing dazed or
possessed, chugged down the rest of his beer and belched loudly, shrugged
his shoulders and proceeded to walk over to his fellow gang members.

"Sorry fellas, but Gary Graham the third comes from a prominent hippie
colony and somehow little miss candy ass with the equally nice tits loves him
and plans to marry him and that disgusting thought makes my dick shrink,
man! We'll claim a random street skank and ruthlessly gang bang her once
we get back to San Fran this evening, but let's leave these two alone for now,
eh?"

Halloween Night 1987

"Heeey Roommie, sorry I have to cancel at the last minute. I'm afraid I won't
be able to meet you and this new boyfriend of yours for dinner tonight. I've
been keeping a little secret and will be catching this hot new metal band at
The Burgundy Room. Let's see, my date says it's over just off Hollywood
Boulevard and Selma and...*giggles*...stop it silly, I'm trying to haul in more
friends for the band...more giggling....and hey, wouldn't it be great if maybe I
could meet your new boyfriend there after you guys have dinner and you
guys can meet Reggie. He is one of the bartenders here and also gets the
best x, man...so yada...yada...yada...you guys can afford to live on the edge
a little, it's Halloween afterall, so let's all enjoy some free drinks, compliment
of Reggie and mosh tonight."

Mim Ryu's message alarmed her roommate Gayle deeply. For one, she had
been cutting class and college entirely for several days, missed two
important tests and seemed to be partying a lot lately, using narcotics and
mind altering hallucinogens and two, Gayle was already familiar with Reggie
Hammond and The Burgundy Room. Her best friend Meagyn dated the
drummer of a band called The Fetish Uprising, a well educated guy named
Phillip who was spending his final year of grad school partying and
performing concerts. Gayle knew immediately her new love interest Gary
Graham wouldn't like nor appeal very much to such dark, sometimes even
orgy invited environs. But she hadn't seen foreign exchange student and
college roommate Mim for several days and was worried that this new creep
in her life Reggie Hammond may get her into a world of trouble.

11:27 PM Halloween Night at The Burgundy Room

"Aaaah, finally off to enjoy some spooky fun." Reggie announced. "Ok, so
whos in tonight? My little girlfriend here desires to become a Satanist. We're
all dressed for the part, but will have to undress once at the cemetery. The
cool thing is she has to fuck my brains out on my Mother's grave, along with
our Lord Lucifer and any minions that the ritual musters."

He poured the group of five one final round from the bar and further issued
they had to beat it quick inorder to begin the ceremony promptly at
Midnight. Gary refused another drink, calmly got up and made an excuse
that he couldn't join in. Infact the entire night The Fetish Uprising jammed
The Burgundy Room, he was quite uncomfortable, picked on severely for
showing up in a fine suit, spat on and punched a few times by some rowdiers
in the headbanging crowd. Additionally, he pled for Gayle not to go. Reggie
didn't like that at all, he had been hoping after successfully seducing sexy
foreign exchange student Mim Ryu that eventually enough drugs and high
times would eventually persuade Gayle into doing a lesbian porno with her
college roommate and later involve himself in a filmed threesome with the
two roomies.

"Yo Gary or gaaayhard, whoever the fuck you are, I don't know you nor do we
need you tagging along, Pal. I tried being nice to you, didnt charge for a few
hundred worth of drinks for the evening, but wow man, you are like seriously
a drag now man. So here's the deal, you leave my bar now and never come
back and no going to the police either ratting out our kinky little Halloween
fun or I'll find you eventually and cut you up into a thousand pieces bra. You
feel me, holmes or do you need further convincing?"

Philip suddenly shot up from his seat and protectively wrapped an arm
around Gary. "Hey Reggie, its cool man. Yeah babe, Me and Meagyn are down
with the initiation. Let me escort Gare here to his car outside and we'll all
meet...um, where?"

"Hollywood Forever Cemetery off Santa Monica Boulevard, man...cool guys

appreciate you attending. Don't worry, I'll bring plenty of junk to party with
and all you and Meagyn have to do is serve as two witnesses. Out of sight
man, so good-looking are you in? Ya know, tag along to make sure Satan
doesn't harm your roommate?"

It was a decision Gayle Hollie would regret for the next two years.

"Yeah, I'll come along under one condition. Mim doesn't do anything she
doesn't want to do if she gets spooked and if I get spooked, I am out of there
real fast. I'll car pool over there with Philip and Meagyn and oh yeah Reggie,
I'm keeping my clothes on during all of this Satanic shit."

Reggie jumped up high in the air and spun around a few times hooting with
excitement, letting out an exuberant "Wooo-hooo!" Gotch'ya Gayle, no
problemo sexy this is going to be one Halloween we'll never forget. Let's
roooll, baby!"

"Is this the only one you've received?" Gary asked best friend Philip outside
the viewing area of the hospital paternity ward.

"Yeah, so far. Whoever is fucking with us has now gone too far as far as I'm
concerned. I mean goddamn Gare, my son was born last night and I fell
asleep for maybe forty-five minutes inside Meagyn's hospital room early this
morning. This note was tucked inside my jacket pocket and I swear it wasn't
there when we arrived, which means whoever is behind all of this actually
came into Meagyn's room to place the note while both of us were sleeping."

Gary read the note a fifth time and admitted the handwriting was exactly the
same as the others he had received.

Congratulations on your son entering our evil world. Don't worry, I never
intend to harm innocents. ONLY MURDERERS! One of you will die soon.

signed,
Happy HELL-o-ween

"Jesus Christ, I haven't slept adequately for three days now, when the fuck is
Halloween anyway?" Phillip narrowed while outstretching his arms and
yawning mightily.

"This coming Friday, only four days from now."

"Fuck." Philip protested.

"Do you own a gun?" Gary asked his best friend.

Philip shook his head to the negative.

"I had an old hunting rifle as of half a year ago, but Meagyn pleaded with me
to sell it while she was pregnant. She hates guns and now that Andrew is
born, I'll have to admit I particularly do not desire to have any weapons
outside of an aluminum baseball bat or kitchen knives inside our home."

Gary looked around their viewing room area to make sure they were alone
before casually producing the same small caliber pea shooter that effectively
warded off the biker at Reggie's funeral.

"Here man, you can't be unarmed after what transpired. This is very small,
the safety is very reliable and takes force to unlock it and at close range it
will blind someone or pulverize their Adam's apple."

Phillip wanted to turn down his offer of the weapon, but knew he couldn't.
Not only did he love Meagyn with all of his heart, strength and might, but
when being there to witness his first born son entering the world and holding
him for the first time, he realized nothing would ever get past him to harm
his family.

Phillip cupped the two shooter inside his palm,-it really was such a tiny hand
gun-and quickly dropped it inside his wool fall coat pocket.

"So how are you and Gayle doing? Has there been any more notes or
incidents?" he inquired.

"No, but we nearly dogged one of Reggie's hardcore Satanic biker buddies at
his funeral. A real big, burly vermin scumbag took a liking to Gayle as we
were leaving the funeral and that pistol I just gave you scared him off. He
actually grabbed Gayles ass as we were walking to the car to leave the
funeral and I threatened him with it. But there was something he said to us
just before safely avoiding a pounding by Him and his surrounding gang
members that especially frightened Gayle."

"What was that?"

Gary scratched the top of his head and quirked a dismayed expression of
bewilderment.

"Well, I uh don't really know how to put this nor make any sense of it. I mean
even after what transpired before all of our eyes Halloween Night two years
ago, I still can't adequately surmise any logic behind it, but the last thing this
bad-ass biker said to us was a threat that we would die, all four of us, infact
specifically mentioned the four of us-outside of Reggie ofcourse-who were
still alive. It's just when he said it, it was as if Mim Ryus ghost were
possessing him. This guy was a beast- were talking very huge, intimidating

biker- straight out of a Hollywood film. I still don't believe in ghosts or devils
and demons, but Gayle sure does and she was literally shivering for hours in
fear afterwards.
So, what now? Philip queried.

Nowsearched Gary.Now, we lock and load and try our best to catch
whoever is behind all of this psycho shit!

Halloween Night 1987

Hollywood Forever Cemetery

Philip and girlfriend Meagyn shared nearly two entire grams of cocaine
between them, while Reggie opted to smoke weed laced with embalming
fluid with his new girlfriend Mim, whom Satan would initiate-by sexual
intercourse-into the dark fold of Satanism.

"Lewinsky...no...Jennings no...Horowitz Christ, what the fuck is that another

Kyke falling victim to the gas chamber..." Reggie babbled on as he searched
for his estranged Mother's tombstone. "Hey guys, how do you fit a thousand
Jews inside a Volkswagon Beatle? Place them in the ash tray...hahahahaha..."

Gayle wished Gary was with her, she liked him a lot already after dating one
another for just a couple of months. However this Halloween with Reggie and
the gang staying up all night doing drugs and getting naked for a Satanic
Ritual, she realized this would be the absolute worst place to finally indulge
Gary regarding first time intimacy between them on Halloween. Reggie

already hated Gary, heck hates anyone who doesn't go along with the
partying and shared eerie thrills of debauchery with. Gayle watched Reggie
leap up on top of an old, chipped tombstone and barely be able to maintain
his balance.

"Aaaaahhh, heeewo Mother. Feeling a little stiff today?" Reggie greeted his
mothers burial plot.

Mim danced and twirled around the plot for a minute, Reggie had her on
shrooms now and she was absolutely dusted from the marijuana aswell.
Gayle desired desperately to speak to Mim privately-if only Reggie would go
somewhere private to urinate-maybe, or smoke more pot, just maybe she
could grab a hold of her college roommate and talk her out of this crazy
ritual. Reggie did pee but infront of everyone intentionally on his Mother's
gravestone.

"Incase any of you guys are wondering, she was a real fucking cunt. She
slept with half the cops in LA and was a drunk. Hosted wild parties, entire
orgies and made these drinks called Friday Bombers. Ha...hahagood ole
Mommy Dearest, your karma sure bombed you when one of your bottles of
rum was mistaken for poison...tiss...tiss and all these years later police are
still baffled who the culprit is that laced your liquor. Surely not then little
fourteen year old son Reginald who was a straight-a student and cried at
your funeralhahahaaa"

The ceremony wasn't very long, Philip and Meagyn undressed to serve as the
two mandatory witnesses needed as an equally nude Reggie attempted to
summon a demon from hell to possess the forthcoming sex between he and
anxiously willing inductee, Mim Ryu. He lit some make shift torches out of her
clothing and chanted some devilish verses before then really taking it to-and
quite viciously lustful-to Mim's breasts and butt, sucking, biting and
smacking both areas-especially her nice heart shaped ass with a roughly
scolding tree switch until she was perfectly suited as a bloody offering to
Lucifer The Devil.

He giggled outlandishly, almost choking her to death when forcing his

member deep down her throat for several minutes. More sexual brutalities
followed until it was time for her to climb on top of him and rock his cock
atop Mommy's grave. Mim Ryu was savagely scarred and bruised, bloodied
and bludgeoned by this point, but so drugged she really didn't notice all the
blood dripping down her body as being her own, nor felt any pain. Gayle had
seen enough almost as soon as the ritual began and snuck out to phone Gary
to come and get her. She was absolutely horrified over Reggie sadistically
gorging Mim and could not stand to bear witness to any more brutal
unsightliness.
Philip had managed to sneak Reggie's bag of strongly laced pot out of his
buddys jacket once Mim and he were really going at all carnality and he and
girlfriend Meagyn snuck off to another private area of the cemetery to get
even more high before indulging in some erotic fun of their own on
Halloween Night. And in the middle of their sensational frolicking foreplay on
some dude named Barney Frank's grave, that's when the screams began.
Both Philip and Meagyn bewildered at first, but then quickly realized it was
Reggie who was screaming for help instead of invitee Mim Ryu. They both
raced back to the site where he and Mim were previously monsterously
gorging and fucking hard, not more than twelve minutes earlier and arrived
at an even more gruesome and horrible spectacle.

"Heeelp me...get her the fuck off of me...heeeeelp!"

Mim was still on top of Reggie, but no longer bucking him in Satanic Ritual
sex. Instead she was maliciously and with brute force clawing his eyes and
face out most savagely with her long, strong Asian finger nails.

"Philip...goddammit, help meee...she's...she's going to kill me"

Before even completing his desperate, most hellish pleas for help, Mim bent
her head down close to Reggies face and bit his nose completely off.
Sheering it right off his face within seconds using nothing more than her

teeth and jaw muscles. The predator bite of lioness from a demon possessed
woman of blood and ruthless satanic prowess.

She reached behind her naked hips and buttocks after taking a huge chunk
from his cheek aswell and then proceeded to clamp Reggies dick in a tight
fist of fury, pausing to rustle a knife free from Reggie's jacket that lay just
two feet beyond the horrific gorging.

"Philip, nooo!" Meagyn failed to stop. "Her eyes...my god, what is

happening?"

Philip wish he had stopped as Meagyn desired once he got close enough to
examine Mim's face. Her eyes were like the moon, luminous and searing with
evil. Large, dark saucers as if an alien, yet extremely dark, registering
souless. Very, very soulless and dark. Something beyond monster dwelled
inside of her now and that was fanatically possessing and leering now at
Philip who had no choice but to ignore his best friends blood curdling
screams for help.

"No god can help you! The harsh, charcoal bellied voice of Hell taunted.
You are all going to die." Mim's voice growled abrasively eerie.

She resembled Sissy Spacek's character Carrie in that remarkable Stephen

King classic. Bloody, possessed, empowered, flesh eating and a mesh of
carnal evil had consumed her.

Two gunshots rang out from behind everyone just as Mim was about to cut
Reggie's penis off with his own semi dull switch blade. Her body jerked and
contorted so unusually as the bullets striking her were just enough for Reggie
to wiggle his weight sideways and toss her nakedness off of him.

"Again! Shoot her again...Jesus fucking Christ, kill the bitch!" Reggie prodded
at Gary who was firing all he had at Mim Ryu from a safe distance of
approximately ten yards away.

Gayle was crying, aswell as Meagyn as they watched six more succeeding
bullets rip and gorge Mim's short, frail body further. Reggie's nose was even
spat out of her mouth due to the blazing impact of the 45 caliber Smith and
Wesson automatic. Each bullet ripped out a large chunk of body and when
Mim's demon possessed entity of murderous wrath finally did collapse
lifelessly before them. Most of her lungs and innards were spewing outward,
methodically odorizing Halloween Night.

Reggie quickly regained his switch blade, a weapon he had used on many
male challengers over the years, but for the first time this evening against a
female. His face had suffered severe trauma and he was barely able to see
his way into decapitating her. It took a very long time and this Halloween
would prove later to be one deadly secret.

Gary had purchased two more handguns, both of very high calibers and met
with Phillip around the corner from The Burgundy Room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Phillip asked.

He noticed a particularly new ruddiness of character in his friend after Gary

had been unable to contact Gayle for two days. When he checked her office
where she worked as a personal assistant to the Vice President of a Fortune
500 Company and they reported she hadn't called in either, Gary was out to
find her. The latest note received at his own office was a demand for a
$2,000,000.00 deposit to be secured in an off shore account.

Meet with me inside The Burgundy Room ALONE or she will die. Final
instructions ordered.

"How are we going to get these guns in?" Phillip wondered.

Phillip was an absolute electronics and computer guru who had already
cleverly mastered wiring a mic inside the thin rim of Gary's glasses. Even
face to face with anyone once inside The Burgundy Room, it wouldn't be
detectable at all. But two massive high caliber hand guns, surely whoever
was responsible behind this would search Gary the very second he appeared.

"I got that covered already. Last night I dressed up unusually early for
Halloween for a costume party here. I already have one magnum hidden
inside and I doubt if anyone will locate it. Just incase something goes awry,
I've got you to call in the cops and as back up incase you feel I am ever
endangered. But basically I just want to do this money transfer and get Gayle
back safely.

"Doobie Doo." Phillip encouraged.

Doobie Doo, brother and thanks." Gary shook Phillips hand and proceeded
toward The Burgundy Room.

"You alone, pal?" The rugged, thick necked bouncer asked before a severe
body search was conducted. He even lifted Gary's wallet, inwhich Gary
stated matter-of-fact he needed inorder to complete the financial
transaction.

He was led inside to the main bar where the same grizzly biker at the funeral
sat at a table between two clean cut, well dressed professionals. One was a
man who did not speak at all, but deeply resembled the actor Clive Owen.

Gary immediately recognized his suit to be of the finest Italian import and
tailoring. The female seated to the other side of the biker was very short,
appeared Hispanic and spoke for the business at hand whenever
commanded to by the grizzly biker who did not appear any different than at
the funeral at all. Deplorable, filthy and drunk with half his piggish gut
sticking out of an old ZZ Top concert shirt. He smelled profusely like repelling
body odor and sex and had a fresh new cut and a bruise on one cheek and
eye. Gary did not desire to fathom what the brutish piece of trash did the
night before.

"Goodafternoon there Little Lord Faunteroy, we appreciate you being on

time."

Gary nodded and took the sole empty chair that remained at the table. Four
more bikers immediately seized their protective positions standing directly
behind him.

"Can I offer you a drink?" The biker offered.

"No thanks, I'd rather we just get down to business if it pleases you."

The biker cracked an unfunny joke about Perrier water and passing the Grey
Poupon to Gary Graham the third, which no one else but his own biker gang
comrades saw any reason to laugh at. He then motioned for the small,
Hispanic business woman to proceed and she opened a laptop computer
before her.

"MR Graham, I will need your bank account number and pin number from the
account you choose to donate please."

"My pin number?" he dismayed. "Why can't I just log into my account and
transfer the money electronically?"

The grizzly biker slammed a hard fist onto the table, shocking his well
dressed cohorts.

"Because Fucko, this is how it's going to roll! Your account number with the
pin number or me and all four boys behind you all take turns sticking it inside
your girlfriend's tight ass and boooy, she's got a peeerty tight little ass
indeed!"

Gary relented, knowing full well the gang would clean out way more than just
the $2,000,000.00 ransom demand.

"Ok, I've cooperated. When can I expect to see Gayle?"

"Just a few more minutes please MR Graham. Online transfers concerning

an offshore account take more time, Sir" The female informed while busily
typing on the keyboard.

The biker next signaled at the silent man to his right and immediately the
tall, gray haired professional reached inside his suit pocket to retrieve a cell
phone.

"Ok, wow MR Graham, you have certainly done well for yourself. Your account
balance states just slightly over fourteen million in cash savings, mind if I
venture as to what you do?" The woman amazed.

"I teach at UCLA, psychology department. But as of a decade ago also

inherited my Father's business investments when he passed away."

The disgusting biker timed his next beer belch perfectly rude and insulting.

So I reckon he was Gary Graham the second then?

Gary didnt respond.

"I'm sorry for you loss MR Graham." She briefly consoled before turning back
to the beast in charge. "Your call big fella, how much would you price his
girlfriend's ass at?"

The room of bikers laughed and even the elder gent holding the cell phone
cracked a sinister smile.

"Oh...let's cut him a break. He loves this dame and desires to marry her. Let's
see, fourteen mil in the account and he inherited it after losing his father,
boy that's tough to decide, but I would gladly accept ten million."

The room laughed again. She typed a few more times, clicked, typed some
more and a few minutes later simply announced, "Done, transaction
complete."

Upon hearing this, the grizzly biker ordered one of his gang members to
fetch some champagne and other bottles of liquor to celebrate and informed
Gary he could now speak to Gayle on the cell phone the quiet business man
was now dialing.

"Yes, affirmative. The eagle has landed." he stated into the phone and
promptly handed the phone over to Gary who was visibly nervous.

All others present shook hands and got busy toasting celebrative drinks.
Smiles and laughter abound.

"Gayle...honey...Gayle are you there?"

"Gary, my god it's so good to hear your voice."

His heart leapt up to his throat and he could barely sustain words.

"Oh Gayle, sweetie please tell me you haven't been harmed?"

The lead biker cooed a sarcastic, "Oooh sweetie, yeah put it right
there...ooohhh honey...oh yes...oh yes Little Lord Faunteroy dick...hahahaha!"

"No Gary, I haven't been harmed. Scared at first when abducted by a van full
of men in dark clothing and masks and they used some kind of liquid that
made me blackout for hours, but I was never raped or harmed or beaten, just
placed in a single ankle cuff attached to a chain in a small room with a couch
and television. I don't know where I am though, my mind is still racing and..."

"Gayle, that's not important right now. I paid your ransom and I hope to see
you soon, infact within this day, depending on what else transpires."

"Gary, what do you mean by that? Depending on what else transpires, you're
not thinking about..."

"Honey, I'm glad you are safe and will see you later." he spoke into the phone
before promptly hanging up.

The biker chimed in again sarcastically, "Woooe, bro, youre like supposed to
be inlove with her and shit. That's all you had to say to her? Did the rest of
ya'll just hear what I heard? He hung up on that little hottie without telling
her he loves her. Daaaaamn snoop, that's fucked up, yo."

"I need a drink." Gary settled, yet couldnt settle down. He stood up and
gripped the round outer edge of the table.

"Um, sure thing guy." The grizzly biker accommodated. "Hey, are you going
to be ok? Don't worry man, your little hot ass girlfriend will be returned home
to you man, you did just fine. So what's your poison, Gary Graham the
Third?"

"And what is my assurance she will be returned home to me fine? I want to

go where she is right now. I want to see for myself she is fine."

Another biker lined up a fifth of whiskey and another of vodka and another of
rum and one more unopened bottle of fresh champagne. He then placed a
huge mitt on Gary's back and answered,

"Yo man, you just relax. We're running the show. Have a drink, have as much
as you want, but you better keep it mellow man."

More taunting laughter ensued.

Ill bet he never ate her ass. The lead biker furthered. Geesh, what a
waste, with such a hot caboose as hers.

Gary was visibly shaking and could hardly hold the bottle of spice rum he
elected to help steady his nerves. His gut instinct told him there wasn't a
chance in hell he would ever see Gayle again and now he was just robbed of
his beloved Father's inheritance his father worked his entire life into ill health
to one day will to his son, so Gary would have a better life and now these
thug criminals were going to destroy that, his love and future marriage to
Gayle and a wonderful, happy life together?

Unt-ungh!

"He almost slugged down three quarters of the rum bottle, but then grabbed
his stomach regrettably."

"Yo chief, what's wrong now? You can't drink liquor like water, man." The
head biker mocked.

"Quick, where's the bathroom...I'm about to vomit." Gary rushed.

"Straight back over there, man." The other biker who first offered the alcohol
pointed.

Gary raced down the short corridor and into the filthy men's room with all the
familiar graffiti from the night before. He was acting by this time and didn't
know if todays acting or last night's acting at a Halloween Metal Costume
party was the better. All he knew was he had successfully placed a Colt .45
Magnum up atop the ceiling grid inside the men's room the night before. He
stuck his index finger into his mouth, intentionally forcing himself to vomit
out all of the rum he had just chugged. He could hear more teasing erupt
from the bar. Quickly washing his fingers and single hand, he then whispered
three times into the rim of his glasses making sure pal Phillip realized it
would be "Game On."

"I'm taking them all out, Phillip. All of them....all of them....taking all of them
out...all of them, Phillip! Game on...game on...game on..."

Leaping up on the bathroom sink, Gary ignored the familar sketch of a big
slutty cartoon with the words Slayer sketched into her bosom near the ceiling
tile he was now dismantaling. He quickly retrieved the pistol and made sure
the safety was off. Upon leaping down off the sink he could already hear
chaos from the bar emerge and he came storming out to add to it. Several
shots-not from Gary but Phillip shattered the party-and by the time Gary was
able to run back to the bar, two bikers already lay dead and bleeding
profusely. The Hispanic woman attempted to escape past Phillip who was
shooting down one biker after another and Gary got his first shot off from the
powerful Mangum, clipping her square behind one thigh.

AAARRRRAAAAAAAGH!!!" The filthy, pig gutted lead biker rattled, leaping

over the entire table after his fourth comrade was taken down. He was
plowing toward Phillip who was now out of ammunition. The older, silent
businessman who handed Gary the cell phone was coward to the ground,
squashed up in a fetal position beneath the table.

Duck and cover...duck and cover...duck and cover

The grizzly biker tackled Phillip and reached for a strewn glass bottle to
assault him with forcing Gary not to hesitate taking pinpoint aim and blasting
five rounds into the horrid swines back. The impact assaulted him forward
several feet and out of Phillip's harms way. The short woman was crawling
now toward the main exit, but Gary shot her in the right elbow, then the
opposite shoulder and a few more rounds into her back aswell. Both she and
the lead biker lay dead in a combined pool of blood.

Gary then approached the now quivering man who was cowardly crying and
pleading not to die beneath the table."

Gary kicked at him, shouting "Shut the fuck up....get up, NOW!"

"Please....pahpahpahplease MR Graham, I am only a banker. I did not

kidnap your girlfriend. Please don't kill me! II had nothing to do with
kidnapping her. They just hired me to assist with a bank partner to transfer
funds, Sir...oh god, I don't want to die!"

Gary promptly sat the quivering fool in a chair at the table and placed the
Magnum to his nearest temple.

"Tell me where she is and you walk out of here alive. The only one, your bitch
is dead.
The man was bordering manic, stuttering and weeping immensely. His entire
body rattled in fear.

"I...I...sir please...I do....not know....like I stated...I am just a banker, I have no

knowledge or...or...part in...in...in..."

"Ok, then you die right here and right now then."

Ok, cut her loose. The ransom has been paid in full and orders are to set her
free immediately. The elder, well dressed man ordered.

The other was a very short, stubby man with tattoos on his neck and face.
His leather patch indicated he was a new recruit in this particular biker gang.
Gayle remembered the bulkier, fowl biker at the funeral and could see this
recruit possibly being his younger brother. For the past 32 hours-aside from
short cat naps throughout the day and evening-all she heard from tattoo face
was stories of how he served a nickel inside San Quentin for rape and how
much he desired for something to go awry so he could rape Gayle next. The
recruit paused, almost shocked to hear the transfer made good.

"Let's go, cut her loose. Payment has been confirmed."

"But I...I uh..."

The taller man took it upon himself to unlock the ankle chain to Gayle's left
leg and asked her if she felt any pain or needed a bandage. She shook her
head to the negative.

"What, we're just going to let a hot bitch like this go?" The runt further
bewildered. "What if she goes to the pigs, man? Then what will we do?"

The tall man rolled his eyes and peered at the grunt unbelievable.

"Listen, whoever you are...we are inside an abandoned warehouse with no

ties to anybody. The police can come here and sniff around all they want.
Infact, you can leave first if you are so paranoid. I just made one million
dollars cooking meals and watching Melrose Place with good company and
yes, she is free to go. I'm sorry, if you are so hell bent on rape, may I
recommend a dark corner or alley in West Hollywood."

The runt didn't appreciate the pairing with the slick, tall guy in the first place
but knew he had to follow orders and earn his stripes. Still, the evil beast of
savagery inside him hungered to poke Gayle's twat and ride her real rough.

"Look-ee-here Slick, I only take orders from higher command from The Devil
Hoarders man. So my advice to you is you get the fuck out of here first and
keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll cut you real bad man."

He pulled out an angel blade-which was an illegal knife-both Gayle and the
banker knew had the police arrived, possession alone would have earned this
grunt creep a mandatory five years back in prison for possession, even if he
did beat a kidnapping wrap.

Remaining completely cam, the tall man slowly removed his suit coat and
unbuttoned his cuffs to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt as shorty grunted
and stuck out his bony chest as if to look more intimidating standing barely
five feet two inches tall, compared to the senior six feet, three inches of
towering dominance.

"I'll have you know I am Special Forces, served three tours in Vietnam. Are
you sure you desire to fight me?" The banker asked, placing his hands atop
his hips, his face relaying more nave expression of unbelievable idiocy over
the runt bikers gall.

The recruit laughed both mockingly and cockily and quickly revealed a
hidden revolver in the back of his waste band.

"Nam, hungh? Well that's very noble of you, you fucking baby killer. This is all
the special force I need."

Gayle suddenly stepped between the two men, shocking the biker grunt the
most.

"No, I am not witnessing anyone being murdered. I hate violence, hate it! Ok
tough guy, are you a real man? Hungh? Do you consider yourself a real
ladies man? Do you think you can give me the fuck of my life? Do ya?"

The biker sneered the most sinister grin he's ever dealt and motioned with
the gun for Gayle to step back into her small holding room, then looked up to
wink at the hero who was willing to protect her.

"Feel free to lock us in for awhile chief, I'm gonna tear that sweet little pussy
up, yo!"

But just as he was about to enter the room behind her, Gayle suddenly
lashed out a banshee's scream, spun around and kicked a dead target thud
into the creep's balls. Mercilessly hard. Following with a hard open fist blow
to his face, that's all it took to knock him to the floor and the taller man
disarmed him immediately.

Looks like she just gave you your own being fucked for the rest of your life.
He stated. Maam, please go home now to wherever home is for you.

"He doesn't know anything." Both Phillip and Meagyn pleaded to Gary for him
to relent.

For the past two hours Gary had tortured the banker with paper cuts, lemon
juice, singed his hair and earlobes and broke both of his hands and fingers
determined to learn of Gayle's whereabouts.

"How do you know?" He asked. "These creeps are willing to go to the brink of
death for big money."

Gary was displaying serious girth and vigilance, previously uncommon to

him.

Meagyn started weeping. She rummaged through her jacket pocket to

produce another note.

"Because of this! Goddamn you Gary, because of this. Another note. I found
it laying inside my baby's cribb this afternoon. Someone kidnapped our
baby...oh god, so you aren't the only one looking for answers."

Phillip suddenly became very agitated and tense aswell, careful to trace over
every step of what Meagyn was stating. He embraced his wife and cried
alongside her while Gary studied the note.

Happy HELL-O-Ween chums! What a treat to have a newborn son and the
trick is I have him. Meet me where you buried my body in the desert and
thats where you will find your baby."

"Oh gooood, our baby....she's going to kill our baby!" Meagyn terrified.

"No she's not!" Phillip detested. He kept consoling his wife. "We will all meet
her there if that's what she wants, but our child will not be harmed, that's for

sure. We will get little Andrew back, honey I know this must be beyond
speculation, but...Gary, we are going to get our baby back, right man?"

Suddenly the cell phone used to speak with Gayle hours earlier rang and
Gary didn't hesitate to answer it.

"Gayle...oh god...thank god...are you sure you aren't hurt? Ok...no, no, no,
we're coming to get you now. I will have to explain more later, but all of us
have to meet somewhere this evening...it's of the upmost importance...yes
baby...oh goodness I am so happy you are safe...no, no, just stay right where
you are and if any police find you suspicious, lie and say you were mugged of
your purse and your boyfriend is coming to pick you up...ok babes, oh gosh I
love you so much."

"What's happening, where is she?" Phillip surged.

She managed to break free and is at Nick's Cafe on North Spring Street. She
said one of her captors rescued her from an attempted rape and let her go,
but don't know any other details. Meagyn, we need you to trust us. Phillip
and I have already battled and won, we need you though to be strong for all
four of us, thats the only way we can get your precious son back.

"What about him?" Phillip nodded to the tortured banker still fearing for his
life.

Gary walked over to him, bent close into his face and spit in it.

"Fuck You! Today is your lucky day MR Mayhem, whoever the fuck you are."

He then ordered Phillip and Meagyn to go out to Meagyn's car and have the
engine humming ready to get the hell out of there. He placed one last phone
call to 911 to report multiple gunshot victims inside The Burgundy Room and
that there was a hostage tied up inside aswell. Also emergency medical
response is immenant, particularly for one elderly male hostage victim
rapidly losing blood to two gunshot wounds.

Afterwards he dropped the cell phone to the ground and squashed it beneath
the weight of an immense foot stomping.

"Serenada Pal, enjoy explaining all of this to the cops. Using a handgun
confiscated from his dead partners person, Gary shot out both the mans
knee caps and darted out of The Burgundy Room forever."

The drive out from Los Angeles to the wilderness lands resting deeply west of
Lindcove California served both exhaustive and meditative for all four
friends. Phillip drove the four in his jeep and it was agreed upon by all to
sedate Meagyn due to the obvious stress and near complete emotional
breakdown of having her newborn baby kidnapped. It would normally take
local police in Los Angeles several days, if not weeks to track down a
kidnapping and no one in the group desired to risk any harm coming from
whoever was behind this. Gayle especially marveled-in a private
conversation with Gary-whispering back and forth on how in the world it even
remotely possible for Mim to have survived being shot multiple times and
beheaded by Reggie two years ago. Yes, something very evil and demonic
possessed her during the satanic ritual sex ceremony into The Church of
Satan, Reggie's life long scars on his face and head served horrific memento
right up until his death, but how in the world does a five foot two Chinese
foreign exchange student, who probably never weighed above one hundred
and twenty pounds in her entire life survive over five point blank gunshot

wounds and being fully decapitated and the head submerged in a pond
before being buried deep in miles upon miles of wilderness?

"We were all there, man. You all saw me slit that cunt's throat. There's no
way, there's simply no way possible..." Reggie's words echoed most
hauntingly just two weeks ago and now he too is dead and buried. Gayle fell
asleep in the backseat of the jeep on Gary's strong, heroic shoulders. They
barely had time to reunite and express their dire love for one another aside
from enjoying a rushed dinner before making the road trip to outer
Lindcove.

"Yeah this looks familiar, although it was night time and very dark when
we...hey yeah turn off here, remember that tree? That rustic looking old,
mangled tree. Reggie insisted we all urinate on it in unison as homage to the
dead. I'm pretty sure that's where we turned left and off-roaded it for
awhile. Philip pointed out.

Dusk was setting and the men quickly organized plenty of flashlights and
concealed guns. Gary awoke Gayle from her nap-she was incredibly fatigued
after her ordeal as a hostage-and Phillip attempted to get Meagyn to walk
under her own power but was unsuccessful. Before driving out of LA, they
stopped for a pint of smirnoff watermelon vodka to mix and slightly weaken
with mountain dew to accompany two prescribed Vicodin pills with one
additional high dose Xanax pill Meagyn was prescribed for post maternal
pain. The intention worked a little too strong though, so Phillip had to hoist
half her body and left side across his stronger, more preferred right side and
very slowly escort her walk in unison with his.

Flashlights beaming and darkness now advancing, Gayle noticed and

directed everyone's attention toward the peculiar Halloween blood red sky. It
almost appeared blood thirsty as nearby black birds overhead were
squawking and squealing and an invading mass frantic to collide with and
eventually drop dead all around them.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is going on?" Phillip resounded when one dead
bird falling from above nailed Meagyn's unattuned forehead.

"Is she cut?" Gary quickly turned his flashlight closer.

"No, thank goodness. Man, I'm glad we brought guns bro. This is really
starting to freak me out.

More birds kicked up an assault and Gary, Philip and Gayle found themselves
defending quite strongly. Each time contact was made with a bird, it dropped
dead, entire masses all around them forming carcass piles numbering
hundreds of black birds.

"No room for fear." Gayle reiterated their brief agreement by joining hands
and praying prior to trekking out further into the desert wilderness.

"That's right." Gary confirmed.

"Yippie Kai-yaye." Phillip joined.

"Oh, by the way. I did some research last week but haven't been able to
update anyone prior to being abducted." Gayle extended. "The Lake Kaweah
region hosts a macabre past at an area of surrounding parks named Crystal
Cave. This particular cave is gigantic, is very maze-like and has literally
10,000 passageways. Back during the 1960's some cave explorers came
across what appeared to be a satanic catacomb or inner cave of some sort.
Pentagrams, traces of blood on rags and skeletal remains later suggesting
sacrifice and murder were concluded by forensics. Believed to be a popular
hangout for The Manson Family aswell and that alone is evidence toward
further insight why whoever is behind getting back at us is so ritualistic in
luring us in."

"Fascinating." Phillip briefed. He then placed a free hand atop the pistol
tucked to the front left side of his waist band.

Gary suddenly froze in place, "No...that is fascinating." he pointed.

Barely beyond visibility in the thick deserted darkness were a row of human
skulls hovering approximately fifteen to twenty feet in the air. All hovering
unassisted, as if by some magickal force of deprived gravity lining them up
on each side of a progressing canyon trailing downward. They simultaneously
burst into flames the moment everyone else noticed what had initially
shocked Gary. The fire was non-consuming, as if God were reeling Moses into
the canyon and upon entering the mouth of the canyon, the skulls rotated
and chattered their jaws and teeth bone.

"No fear." Gayle reminded the group, whom ofcourse was now growing
increasingly fearful.

The canyon ended inside a wide but shallow cavern and the sight at its end
propelled Gayle to wither over and vomit.

There was an altar before them, rising approximately six feet above the
ground and a small wooden stage behind it. In its direct center was a throne
and Mim Ryus corpse was seated on it. Only she was headless and not
decayed at all. Her remains dressed in the exact same Halloween costume
portraying a pirate from Halloween Night two years ago. Her head was also
perfectly preserved and rested-almost piercing a lively glance upon thematop the altar and perfectly centered between two large candle rows forming
a pentagram.

"Holy Fuck!" Phillip startled. Gary drew his gun.

"No man, don't do anything..." Phillip attempted to warn.

Interrupted by a chilling new voice and one of familiarity...but how?

"Welcome Comrades." It simply echoed. Welcome to what Lord Lucifer

pleases to finish.

There was a massive flash to the left of the wooden stage and suddenly
Reggie Hammond appeared. Meagyn had startled awake from the sudden
live appearing of a recently deceased friend. Beyond all anxiety and the
numbing of her medication, this truly was spectacular, the very sight of
Reggie appearing alive before them all. Both she and Gayle simultaneously
hit the ground to embrace one another.

Reggie appeared healthy and unabashed. Not a single bruise or burn from
the crash.

"What's the matter, you didn't think I was dead did you?"

He laughed a ghoulish chime of further sinister deliciousness.

Nothis cant be, we all saw you wreck and Gary challenged.

Reggie laughed an additional prideful glee of abysmal delight.

What you witnessed was grand mastery, infact I would describe as genius
craft. A rigged car, a car I never even got into but had you all fooled-your

delicate minds believing-I was inside and died from the impact. Such little
lambs awaiting slaughterPRAISE LUCIFER!

He then proceeded to light two massive cauldrons to each side of the altar
and gave off a chant to summon a demon. He was dressed in a thick black
robe with a hood covering all but his scarred face and upon his further
satanic offerings to Satan, then removed the hood to smile sinisterly at his
friends.

"What the fuck?" Phillip mustered again, entirely perplexed.

Philip and Meagyns baby was unearthed beneath Reggies robe and a cloud
of dust enveloped the child.

Gary crouched for a moment to embrace and comfort Gayle who was in turn
comforting a once again manic Meagyn.

"My baby...please...please don't hurt my baby."

"Reggie signaled a few gestures with his hands to the bowels of hell and
recited more chants and then something happened that brought everyone
down to the ground. Mim Ryu's eyes suddenly glowed demonic life once
again. Not extra-terrestrial or the moon's lighting the desert in a mirror-like
effect, but real life of demonic superiority into a headless two year old
corpse.

The newborn baby boy was asleep-but alive-and wrapped in black blankets
resting immediately behind Mim Ryus decapitated head amongst the mass
of lit candles, cauldron and chalk pentagram.

Phillip attempted to lunge at Reggie the moment his wife shrieked the most
horrifying banshee scream to ever shatter the night. The head of Mim Ryu
instantly shot two blue lasers out of her eyes and zapped Phillip ten feet
back upon hitting him chest center. He was literally flung off his feet and
tossed back like a rag doll. Gary ran back to tend to his friend who's jacket
and shirt was now a seared hole.

"Oh fuck man, what the hell was that? Philip pained. God it burns, it came
from her eyes...Jesus man...it's burning me bad."

Gary attempted to console Phillip, but now both women were screaming
hysterically. Phillip's chest was smoking and he was just seconds away from
losing consciousness.

"AAAAARRRRRRRR'AAAAH!"

Gary ran as fast as he could toward preventing Reggie from raising a

nineteen inch razor sharp knife high above the baby that lay atop the altar
for sacrifice.
Two more blue lasers pinged out from the head of Mim and dropped Gary
like a sack of potatoes. Gayle screamed his name and crawled over to him,
but like Phillip now was unresponsive.

"What the fuck do you want?" Gayle screamed at Reggie.

He lowered the knife momentarily to answer her.

"Power." He simply stated. "What you are all experiencing is power, Satanic
Power. I have been planning this for two years, that's right, two entire fucking
years. Faking my own death, laundering all of rich boy's money and getting
back at all of you mother fuckers!"

Gayle attempted to keep Reggie talking as she felt around inside

unconscious Gary's coat for his weapon.

Got it!

Managing to conceal it behind the back bend of her knees and beneath one
butt cheek-in a half seated position-she flurried to remain calm. She had to
keep Reggie talking, that was the only way to delay what appeared to be the
most horrific inevitable act of barbarism.

"Get back at us for what? She continued. We were your friends, we saved
you from Mim when she was attacking you. We saved your life that night at
the cemetery, Reggie."

Reggie unleashed another chilling echoing laugh, a laugh beyond anything

human.

"Friends?" he mocked. Actually vomiting out a mouthful of yellowish bile in

resentment. "My friends who saved me let's see, you fucks killed her
before I could gain my power! She was perfect for Lucifer. Perfect!-and you
killed her! You didn't save my life, it was to serve sacrifice to Lucifer, sacrifice
only death can bring and which the Dark Prince demands. Not heroism or
friends or recue, you all disrupted. Had I endured and indwelled all that
Halloween evening inside the cemetery, I would have resurrected and been
given all the evil powers over all my surrounding human race. I, Reggie
Hammond would have been immortal. This power would have been greater
than the sun, but you four, my friends- as you say-are not my friends. You are
all interlopers and now Lucifer demands the only payback that can rectify
such a blunder, another human sacrifice!"

Gayle thrust the concealed gun front and center and managed to get two
shots off before Mim's head shot two lasers at her, knocking her
unconscious, sloping over Gary.

The baby suddenly cried out signs of life as if the gunshots disturbed his nap
and for the first time since being heavily sedated, Meagyn jutted forward.
Something in the moonlight shimmered reflectively something undetected
she was holding. It wasnt a gun but something distinctly metallic and much
longer than Gary's altar knife. The demonic head of Mim Ryu held no defense
as Meagyn broke her medicated stagger and quickened up a Japanese sword
in full samurai combat posture. Reggie quickly raised his own knife high into
the air above his head frantic to beat Meagyn to the punch and equally as
shattering, suddenly an assault of gunfire erupted. Not at Reggie, but the
glowing eyes of Mim's dicapitated head resting atop the altar. Her face was
assaulted with several rounds, grossly dropping an eye out from its socket
and then splitting her head into multiple fragments as if a smashed pumpkin
before sliding off the altar entirely.

"Noooooooooooooooo!" Reggie hollered into the empty desert night. His face
and spirit depressed with the loss of Mim Ryus demonically empowered
head.
His body jerked and weaved as if being tormented by unseen forces. The
source of his power derived in Mim's head and that now lay on the ground far
away from the altar as if mauled yellow squash serving hundreds of insect
guests a morbid appetizer.

The flames of both cauldrons instantly extinguished as Reggie screamed

some more, his body now twisting and popping bone and ligaments. Every
bone and nerve throughout his body crushed under an undetectable force
dishing out the most methodical and exclusive torment the bowels of hell
could conceive. That is twice now Reggie failed Lucifer and the dark prince
holds no mercy for failures. His gaunt, heavily scarred face of grotesque
ridicule pained further...dire...like a boa constrictor victim who just fatefully
swallowed cyanide. Only there was no poisoning of anyone this anniversary
Halloween, Reggie had failed Satan and now he would pay dearly as a result.

"Meagyn...noooo...keep away..." Phillip shouted. Thankfully he had regained

consciousness in the nick of time and could finally empty the automatic
chamber successfully at Mim's demon possessed body still seated atop the
stage, destroying Reggies power.

Meagyn leapt atop the altar where her darling baby boy was frantically
crying for Mommmy's recue and all of the rows of candles in shape of a
pentagram suddenly snuffed out. With one precise swing of the Japanese
Sword, she successfully cut off one of Reggie's arms. He was still being
propped up and tormented by demons, his spine snapped like a massive tree
trunk and almost simultaneously, Meagyn managed to sever off his other
arm. His grotesque bellowing was of the most hellish nature when a single
eye popped out of his skull and both ears began to profusely bleed. Though
still alive- suffering both demonic hell and a Mother's protective wrath
concerning her baby, a leg followed suit and then two deep stabbings
penetrating his torso from the samurai sword, all the while his cheek bones
in his face popped and cracked and broke, along with his synthetic nose
plucking viciously from his face.

Phillip was out of bullets and quickly scurried to retrieve the gun Gayle had
formerly attempted but failed to prevent. However he would not need it.
Upon looking up to watch his wife grab a hold of about the only place Reggie
had left that wasn't either broken or gashed, his neck.

"To Lucifer you go, asshole!"

She relinquished her death grip on his neck from a sturdy hand, took a step
back atop the edge of the altar, let out another earth shattering scream and
with exact precision- as all former attacks with the sword, beheaded Reggie.
His body dropped like all the others and the entire area moaned. He was
lifeless, yet the wilderness badlands rumbled to engulf Reggie Hammonds
soul to include him in an eternal abyss of hell and torment.

Aside from Phillip managing to awaken both Gary and Gayle, each
appearing stunned and mortified over the happening of hell opening the
earth to receive its dead. Thankfully no one else was seriously harmed.

Meagyn was covered with Reggie's blood, but still grasped her baby boy into
Mothers heroic clutches. Burrying her face into his sweet, heavenly essence,
she inhaled his tender innocense. As she breathed in his life, she then
brought their son, still spattered in Reggie's blood but miraculously
unharmed to her husband and the others and everyone loved the baby's
pleasing, wakeful coos.

* * THE END * *