Gai viet nam khoa than show hang

LONG POST WARNING
Hello everyone,
My partner (24F) and I (25M) returned home from our 3-week Japan trip last week and due to us using this sub a lot during our planning I thought it would be helpful for other current planners to upload a trip report.
Our main interests are Japanese traditions and history, street style/culture, and food so keep reading if these interests are mutual. Read to the bottom to see how much we spent plus some tips and disappointments.
Prelude
We were caught up in the madness at Dubai airport during our layover. Long story short; Airport (and the rest of Dubai) flooded and caused all the flights to be cancelled. What was meant to be a 5-hour layover turned into a torturous 36 hour wait. No staff to be seen, crowds of people arguing, fighting, and crying. We queued for 12 hours to get a new boarding pass for the next flight to Japan. We were meant to fly to Haneda but settled for Narita as we needed to get out of that place as soon as possible but still ended up missing our first day in Tokyo (should have had 5 days). We can’t complain too much as some of the people I spoke to on emirates were in the airport for up to 5 days before getting a flight back to their departure destination. Oh, and our baggage was missing with us only receiving our checked in bags on day 19. Cheers Emirates.
Day 1
Arrived in Shinjuku around midnight. We went straight to Don Quiojte to buy some replacement cosmetics and clothes. The combination of no good-quality sleep for 48 hours and the stimulating nature of the store was very intense! We then started to walk back towards the hostel and passed a Ichiran, so dropped in for some 2am ramen. Not the best ramen I’ve ever had but was still very good for the price.
Steps: 21,643 (includes some airport steps)
Day 2
Woke up and ate the free breakfast at the hostel (this turned out to be a really good money saver for the whole trip as we are not huge eaters in the morning anyway, but it was good to get something light in us before a long day walking). We then walked through the Shinjuku Gyoen Garden – saw some late blooming cheery blossoms and overall, it was a really beautiful botanical garden.
The next stop was Meji Shrine and a walk through Yoyogi park. The shrine was cool to see, especially as it was our first one in Japan. Saw a middle-aged man wearing denim hotpants so short that his balls were hanging out?!?!
Walked to Shibuya to see the scramble. This was cool but also felt it was a bit underwhelming at ground level but the view from Shibuya station walkway was wicked. Lunch was at a conveyor belt sushi place on the top floor of this department store right next to the scramble. This would be higher than average quality sushi in Europe, so it blew our minds that it was available on the top floor of a department store and for so cheap.
Shimokitazawa – We picked up some bargains at 2^nd street and I treated myself some Japanese jeans from a small Demin shop called Bears. The guy in the shop was super helpful and friendly and even tailored the trousers to exactly my size.
In the evening, we first had a poke around Golden Gai and then headed towards Shibuya and stopped in a cool bar where the owner was mixing vinyl while he mixed your drinks (think it was called Q Bar).
We had previously bought tickets to a gig at Circus for one of my fav rappers who I’d been wanting to see for a while. Also really enjoyed seeing the local Japanese warm up acts. Stayed until 5am and then go the train straight to the Tsukiji outer fish market. Was there way too early and had to wait roughly an hour for thing to open. Went to chill by a bench for a bit and by the time we went back to the market it was rammed! Went to bed around 8:30am.
Steps: 32,159
Day 3
We woke up at 2:30pm, got ready, and headed to the Bunkyo civic centre for the free observation deck. We heard it wasn’t meant to be the best Tokyo skyline view but for a free attraction we thought it was very good! Jimbocho book town was also very cool to see. We had a peak into a couple adult movie/magazine stores where I don’t think the owner appreciated our presence as western tourists.
In the evening, we first went for Ramen at Motenashi Kuraki in Asakusa Bashi. Honestly probably the best Ramen I’ve had to date. I ordered the Black Pepper Shio special, and it blew my mind. Even though the staff didn’t speak English they were very accommodating for my partner who doesn’t eat meat (pescetarian but will brave a meaty broth).
We then had a stroll around Akihabara and played some dance mat games in the arcades before heading back for an earlyish night.
Steps: 28,680
Day 4
I couldn’t sleep so got up around 3am and did some admin stuff to try and get our bags back to us ASAP. Chatted to people in the hostel for a few hours.
We arrived at Senso-ji for around 8am. Wasn’t too busy at this time and the temple was impressive. Went for a coffee down the road and had a chill for about an hour before heading into Asakusa. Got admission to the Drum museum which was wicked. Only 400 yen each and had the whole place to ourselves to smack some big fucking drums and make as much noise as we wanted.
We then started to head towards Ueno but made a slight detour to Kappabashi Dougu street to peruse the Japanese chef knives and other cookware. Grabbed lunch from a 7/11 and went and sat in Ueno park which was super busy. There was some food market event on which loads of food stalls had set up. There was also a stage with some J-pop performers and people dressed as ninjas dancing in the crowd. Weird to say the least. By mid-afternoon we were pretty tired so headed back to the hostel for a nap.
In the evening, we headed down to Harajuku and stopped by Big Love records. My partner is really into vinyl, so this was definitely a highlight for her. She picked up Wu Tang 36 chambers in case you were wondering. We then went for food at Afuri as my partner wanted to try the Vegan ramen to which she said it was ok but nothing special. My cold dipping noodle dish was very tasty, however. We then stumbled across this vinyl listening bar called Bar Music on the 5^th floor of this pokey building on the outskirts of Shibuya for a few drinks before bed. There was such a good vibe in there and the cocktails were super good for the price. If you’re looking for a romantic spot, then this is the place to go.
Steps: 31,818
Day 5
Today we headed to Kyoto on the shinkansen around midday after a slow morning chilling in and around the hostel and catching up on some sleep. Checked in to the hostel and had a walk around downtown Kyoto, stopping at 2^nd Street to buy some more clothes.
In the evening, we headed to Kodai-Ji to see the shrine lit up at night. We couldn’t believe how few people were there as it was stunning and truly magical place to be at night. It also has a bamboo grove (much better than Arashiyama, see below). The bar for Kyoto shrines/temples had been set very high.
Walked down Pontocho alley and stopped at a yakitori restaurant which was just ok. We knew it was going to be average when we looked around the restaurant and it was just western tourists dining.
Steps: 25,255
Day 6
First thing in the morning we rented bikes and cycled across the city to Arashiyama. Parked the bikes at the train station and walked up through Arashiyama. We were expecting it to be busy but there were so many people it was almost impossible to move. Had a look around the bamboo grove and was slightly underwhelmed after our visit to Kodai-Ji so we took the tram and then bus up to Kosan-Ji. This was very much worth the 45-minute journey as there was only one other group there and the temple nestled between the trees overlooking the river was breath-taking. On the whole, Arashiyama was way too packed during peak times to enjoy and with everything else Kyoto has to offer we wouldn’t say it was a must see.
We then picked up the bikes from the train station and cycled back across Kyoto taking the long route to explore and get lost. Once we dropped off the bikes, we went for another explore and this time went into WeGo for more clothes shopping. At this point we’d pretty much matched the amount of clothing that we had packed in our checked-in luggage that was still stuck in Dubai.
After a nap we walked towards the metro and stopped at a Katsu restaurant as we wanted to try something different, and it was pretty good. For the price of 1300 yen each we got so much food/sake and left stuffed.
Fushimi Inari in the evening. Like Kodai-Ji, we would recommend visiting Fushimi Inari at night. Firstly, to help avoid the crowds (we got there around 9pm and there was hardly anybody there) and secondly as seeing it lit up at night is a nice change. It was however slightly creepy at night, especially as it was lightly raining. My partner started to get a bit scared once we saw the signs to be careful of the wild boar and monkeys haha. We didn’t make it to the top of Mt Inari as the rain started to get heavy but still very much enjoyed walking through the hundreds of tori gates, stopping off at the shrines and soaking up the history.
Steps: 23,686
Day 7
Today was a late start as even after 8 hours sleep the 25k plus steps a day was starting to catch up with us.
We took the metro to Shimogamo Shrine in north Kyoto. It was very peaceful and quiet however temple fatigue had definitely set in at this point. We then walked through Kyoto to the beginning of Philosophers path. We had seen on this sub that people recommend skipping it unless its Sakura season however we disagree. The path along the river is so pretty and atmospheric, along with the fish gently swimming along in the river.
Kyoto Hand Crafts Centre – if you have the money then this is a great place to pick up souvenirs.
Pre-booked Sushi Iwa for a 15 course Omakase. The food was amazing, but it came to an eye watering 28k yen each. The difference for our western palettes between mid-range sushi and exceptional sushi is negligible. Nonetheless it was a good experience and I’m glad that we did it.
Steps: 23,751
Day 8
Today was an empty day in terms of things we wanted to do, so used it to walk the city and explore.
We checked out the Nishiki market and ate various fried foods on sticks which were all pretty tasty. We then walked northwards, stopping for coffee before reaching the imperial palace. By this point we were very much bored of temples and structures of similar architecture, but we actually ended up enjoying walking the palace grounds and seeing the buildings more than we thought and would recommend it to those who find themselves in north Kyoto.
A leisurely walk back down towards downtown Kyoto, stopping off at a wicked standing soba joint. Forgotten the name but their curry soba was delicious.
Chao Chao gyozas (only veggie gyoza place we could find) for our evening meal before a night cap at the bar across the road before bed.
Steps: 23,304
Day 9
Shinkansen to Hiroshima arriving around 11am.
Checked into hostel and then went straight to the A-dome, peace memorial and museum. We thought the museum was very moving and captured the horror of the events that unfolded very well. A must see for sure.
Okonomiyaki at Okonomimura and then some vintage clothes shopping in Hondori.
Went back out for food in the evening and ended up getting Okonomiyaki again. This time it we enjoyed it a lot more than we did at lunch (probably because we got it covered in cheese). There are a few streets by Hiroshima station with lots of bars and restaurants on top of each other, much like Golden Gai in Shinjuku, however they are not super touristy and has a more laid-back feel to them.
We then went to some bars in the city centre. The best one we stumbled across was called Tropical Bar Revolucion. It was on the 8^th floor and the smoking balcony overlooked the city. Plus, the beers in there tasted so good and I’m not sure why.
Steps: 23,299
Day 10
A hungover morning. Headed to the Hiroshima National Gardens. Going to some gardens is my go-to hangover activity as its low effort, relaxing, and feels productive. These gardens in particular were great and we really appreciated the signs explaining the history behind the space. Overall, we enjoyed this more than the national gardens in Shinjuku.
Public baths near Dobashi in the afternoon. If you’re feeling brave enough to get your kit off in front of 10s of strangers, then this is a good experience. Male and female baths are separate. Can’t go wrong for 400 yen.
Went for a drink at Bar Pretty and then realised the effect of golden week on trying to get a table walking into a restaurant. Walked around for about an hour with no success so settled for food from a department store food court. Sounds miserable but the food was pretty good for the price, and it was busy in there, so it still had an atmosphere.
Steps: 29,487
Day 11
Miyajima Day. Took the ferry to the island arriving at 10:30am. The Ryokan staff met us at the port and collected our bags to take back to the hotel.
Had a mooch around the port area before doing the hike up Mt Misen. The climb to the top on a hot day is not to be underestimated. Sweating buckets, but the route and the view from the top was amazing and one of the standout highlights of the whole trip.
After descending Mt Misen, we bought some beers, oysters and, ice cream and sat along the beach wall and chilled in the sun for a couple hours. The hotel staff then picked us up from the ferry terminal, we checked in and went straight to the Onsen for a couple hours before dinner. Dinner was a traditional kaiseki meal (with more courses than I can remember) served in the banquet hall with the other guests.
While the staff converted our retro ryokan room and set up the futons we had a few more beers before bed.
Steps: 20,803
Day 12
Today we had a chilled morning on the island, having a stroll and stopping for some coffees. We then took the ferry back to Hiroshima, stopping for Okonomiyaki one more time, before taking the shinkansen to Osaka.
Checked into our hostel near Namba and went out for a walk around 8pm. When looking for somewhere to eat we walked past a sign for a vegetarian Indian restaurant called Shama. After nearly two weeks of pure Japanese food we were craving some variety so decided to head in. Located on the basement floor of a particularly run down looking building the restaurant was not the most glamorous. Barely enough space for 10 people, it was hot in there. A constant stream of people was coming in and out of the restaurant and we were lucky enough to walk in when there were two spaces available. From sitting down at the table to receiving our food we waited just under an hour. This would be enough to put most people off but fuck me the food was good when it did finally arrive. We got a selection of 4 different curries, naan breads and samosa. We left stuffed. If you’re in the area this is definitely a place worth checking out.
Steps: 25,502
Day 13
Our first stop of the day was the Umeda Sky Building. Not suitable if you are scared of heights as the glass elevator made our stomachs drop slightly. The views were impressive but we thought the price was a bit steep at 1500 yen each.
We then spent the afternoon wondering about near Namba and Shinsujibashi dropping into shops and picking up some food.
For dinner we made a reservation for a Mexican restaurant near Dotonbori. Massive margheritas, nachos and enchiladas. The food was great, and it shows by how busy the place was still at 10pm. It had been open since the late 70’s with the décor to match and it had a great atmosphere.
Steps: 27,290
Day 14
Checked out Tsuruhashi and Korea Town. Loved the market – dimly lit maze of numerous food and clothing vendors. Stopped to have some Korean stew and pancakes and it was delicious. One of the best meals of the trip.
Shinsekai in the evening. What I can describe as the armpit of Osaka. We loved it. Dirty? Yes. Rowdy? Yes. Rough around the edges with a red light district to top it all off. We had Kushikatsu to finish the evening off. Fried stuff on a stick – of course it going to be tasty but it wasn’t exactly flavour town.
Steps: 23,777
Day 15
Took the train to Minoh and hiked up the trail to see the waterfall. Hike was easy in comparison to Mt Misen and the waterfall was very cool to see. Had a wonder around Minoh stopping for some lunch at a Ramen bar.
We went to the Team lab botanical gardens in the evening. It was very awe inspiring seeing all the installations lit up.
After sampling Japanese McDonalds (I had a burger where the buns were made out of rice) we went for some drinks at Zerro. We liked this bar a lot, the guys working there were very friendly and it had a good vibe.
We then sat and watched the skaters at triangle park with some beers from the konbini before going to see Dj Masda at Circus until around 4am. This area of Osaka was such a vibe and came back here a few times over our 6 days here. Overall, a very fun evening.
Steps: 26,130
Day 16
Woke up chronically hungover but powered on and went to see a baseball game. You’re allowed to bring food and drink into the stadium (as long as alcohol is in plastic/paper cups) so we grabbed some beers and snacks from family mart. We had no idea what was happening but the atmosphere was electric and we enjoyed getting pissed and cheering.
Had a nap and then went to Hafez for middle eastern food. The food was good but not amazing, nothing in comparison to my local middle eastern restaurant back home. Chilled around the Namba park/Big step area. Loved this area so much, we are big into street fashion and culture so this place really ticked some boxes. Lots of skaters and street wear stores concentrated around here. Got an early night watching Battle Royale back at the hostel.
Steps: 22,065
Day 17
Today we went to the Umeda area. Popped into some shopping centres and had Omurice for lunch. It was tasty but not something I will crave when back home. Good experience trying it though. We then walked through Yodoyobashi along the rivers and got gelato and sat in the rose garden. The sun was beating down and we enjoyed just chilling in the sun eating our ice cream.
Compufunk Records were holding a party in their store. Decent gaff with some very welcoming and kind people to party with until the early hours.
Steps: 21,267
Day 18
We reluctantly left Osaka for Hakone today. Very sad to go but onwards to the next adventure. Took the shinkansen to Odawara and then the Hakone Tozan Train to Gora. Checked into our Ryokan and relaxed in the Onsen for a few hours.
Went for a walk around Gora and had dinner at the Ryokan before watching Predator in bed.
Steps: 16,926
Day 19
Today we did the Hakone Loop, starting early in Gora.
Started with the Open-air museum and it was great. We loved the installation and ended up spending 3 hours slowly making our way round. Got some cool photos as well for the gram.
Ropeway to Lake Ashi. This was absolutely terrifying. You have to swap cable cars 3 times on the way over and the warnings of the service being suspended due to the wind was announced at each stop. I’m not going to ruin the surprise, but one section made me literally freeze in terror due to the winds outside so try to do it on a calm weather day.
We then took the pirate boat (bit underwhelming) across the Lake and stopped for some soba noodles and a wander around. Unfortunately it was way too cloudy to even get a chance at seeing Mt Fuji.
Train to Kamakura and checked into our super cute traditional hostel near the beach.
Dinner at an Izakaya from the hostel owners recommendation. Food great and beers slipped down a treat. First time I tried Yuzu Kosho as well – I’m now addicted to the stuff and literally cover all my food with it.
Steps: 19,512
Day 20
A slow start to the morning. Weather was pretty bad but we still managed to hit all the main sights in Kamakura. Big Buddha was a refreshing sight from the temples. Did some shopping up Komachi Dori. Highlight of the day was Hukokaji temple. It was so peaceful and zen in the rain with its very own matcha tea ceremony backdropped by bamboo forest. This turned out to be our second favourite temple/shrine we visited, just being beaten by Kodaji.
In the evening we went for Sushi at a conveyor belt place. Figured this would probably be my last Japanese sushi of the trip so devoured 7000 yen worth of sushi and beer. Went back to the hostel and invited some of the other guests to drink with us. The owner of the hostel had some bayberry homebrew, so we got stuck into that.
Steps: 20,494
Day 21
Enoshima Island is just a 25 min train from Kamakura. Started off the day by walking to the top of the island to get French toast and a beer with a lovely view across the bay. We then headed up the Sea candle to check out the observation deck, still the illusive Mt Fuji hides behind the clouds.
We then bought admission to the caves beneath the island which was pretty cool. I won’t ruin the surprise but there’s something waiting for you at the end of one of the caves.
Had an explore around the rockpools near the caves and took some cool photos. We then had a pizza with fish on which was pretty crazy. Walked around the island a little bit more and I picked up some more Japanese denim which wasn’t the cheapest but the quality of the trousers are great and will last me a lifetime.
Back to Tokyo in the evening.
Went for Izakaya around Asakusa and popped into a couple bars. One was called Not Suspicious and the whole bar was covered in handwritten notes by patrons. Very touristy but quite cool at the same time. Our favourite was a drawing of Mario saying It’s a Me Muthafucka.
Steps: 25,903
Day 22
First stop was Don Quiojte to pick up some Yuzu Kosho (if you know you know) and weird flavoured KitKats.
Kappabashi Dougu street to purchase a fine Japanese carbon stell Santoku. Honestly in love with this knife so much. The people at the store were very happy to hear exactly what I was looking for and even let me try before you buy on some daikon radish.
While in Asakusa I had to return to the place where I put the best thing in my mouth in Japan. Motenashi Kuroki. Switched it up this time and had their classic Shio ramen plus the duck rice as a side. Honestly this place is amazing, and you have to go there if you have time. They aren’t veggie/pescy friendly so my partner went for one last round of sushi round the corner. We met up at a massage chair parlour and spent 30 mins relaxing in the chairs.
We had a bright idea to watch the sunset one last time so headed over to the rooftop park on a department store in Shibuya. Sipping on an ice cold Kirin, the sun slowly dropped behind the distant mountains and we knew our trip had come to an end. How symbolic.
Flight at 11pm from Haneda.
Steps: 23,187
On reflection:
I honestly think this trip was almost perfect in terms of hitting our interests and travel style. There was a good balance of doing the typical first time visit to Japan sights and activities while still exploring and seeing what we came across in the moment.
It hard to pinpoint exact highlights of the trip as everywhere we visited had so much going for it in different ways. We loved the rugged and trendy vibe to Osaka, and I think this would be the city I would most want to live in for a considerable amount of time (If I had to choose). Miyajima was also stunning and a great overnight trip with the Ryokan experience. We also underestimated how much we would enjoy Kamakura with its laid-back surfer vibe and access to Enoshima Island.
One random memorable moment that has stuck with me was when we landed at Narita airport, we took the limo bus to Shinjuku. As the driver pulled away, all the staff at the station turned and bowed in unison. It felt so special to first observe a culture totally opposite to the one I grew up with and was at this point I knew I had embarked on the trip of a lifetime.
If I could go back and change something I would probably miss out Hakone and do an extra day in one of the major cities. This isn’t because we didn’t enjoy Hakone, but we feel like it’s a place that needs more time to soak in what’s going on around you (plus the weather was bad when we were there). This being said the Open-Air Museum was amazing and we enjoyed it more than the Teamlab botanical gardens so the trip up the mountains was worth it just for that.
So, how much did we spend per person (not inc flights)?
Accommodation - £765pp
Given that we spent a couple nights in Ryokans raising the average price slightly, we were pretty happy with the accommodation costs. We stayed in a mix of private room and shared dorm hostels and pretty much all of them were spot on. Travelling as a couple meant that anywhere with a private room split the price between 2. The only hostel we didn’t like was the one in Hiroshima, there wasn’t anything in particularly wrong with it, there was just a really bad vibe from the owner and other guests.
Transport - £344pp
This includes shinkansen to and from all the major cities as well as our suica top ups for metros and buses. Unless your itinerary is something like 3 days Tokyo, 2 days Osaka 2 days Kyoto then there really isn’t any point getting the JR pass now that the price has increased.
Activities – £280pp
It is hard to give an exact amount for activities and food as 1) I didn’t track what we spent our cash on and 2) my partner and I would take in turns paying for things like temple admission. That being said I’ve allocated 25% of the cash we spent to activities such as temple admission. Activities includes our baseball tickets plus club entries as well as temple and museum admissions etc.
Food – £962pp
As above, its hard to give an exact amount for food. On the whole we tried to eat cheap with possible, especially at the start of our trip. There were a few expensive meals peppered in plus we ate out twice a day towards the end of our trip as we realised we were under budget.
The total is a bit skewed as this includes all the alcohol we bought in bars as well as the konbini trips for beers and cigarettes. I estimate that booze accounts for around a third of the total per person. If you would like to do Japan on a budget, reducing the booze will make a big difference.
Shopping/Souvenirs/Gifts – £607 (just me)
We went hard with the shopping. We didn’t actually receive our checked in luggage until day 19 so we had to buy all new clothes and cosmetics. If this wasn’t the case, then I don’t think I would have spent so much (airline is comping us for the additional clothing bought anyway). I also bought a fairly expensive chef knife and Japanese denim pieces, plus lots of gifts for friends and family. Obviously, this number could theoretically 0 if you are on a serious budget and did no shopping but I really underestimated Japanese shopping, especially thrifting. Also, given our cheap choices when it came to accommodation we could afford to splurge. However just to note my partner spent less than half than I did on shopping.
Total: £2958 (582,628 yen at time of writing)
I kept within my budget of £3000. I definitely got a bit frivolous with the cash in the last few days or so, if being as careful as I was towards the start of the trip, I think the total would be closer to £2500.
Disappointments
Takoyaki. We thought it was going to be all about the octopus but were disappointed with our balls of sloppy goo surrounding tiny chewy pieces of octopus. We tried it twice and couldn’t get behind it. Sorry Takoyaki fans.
Arashiyama. Way too busy, especially around the main station and bamboo grove. If it’s the bamboo you are going to see, then Kodaji is a much better spot.
Dotonburi. Albeit we were there in golden week, and it was pretty busy. However, I get the feeling this area has fallen to the past its golden days title and has become a bit of a cash cow for places selling spiralised potatoes on a stick. The area around Namba park was a better option for us.
Tips
Konbini. Absolute life saver for snacks and drinks on the go. The food quality for a convenience store is higher than most other countries so we had no problem with grabbing a meal from one to help keep within our budget.
Don’t over pack – even though we didn’t get our checked in bags, I still packed light so had plenty of space to bring stuff back. Emirates give you your allowance by weight rather than number of baggage so we could check in additional bags on the way back.
Don’t be scared of hostels. If you don’t want to brave the shared dorms, then most hostels offer private rooms with just the shower and toilet shared. Obviously, it’s cheaper if there are two people sharing a room.
Don’t stress about cash. Most places take debit/credit card and if they don’t, you’re never more than 5 minutes from a konbini ATM.
For us, golden week didn’t seem that big of an issue. No problems booking shinkansen around GW. We spent most of GW in Osaka, as such it was going to be busy anyway so maybe we didn’t see much of a difference from normal numbers in the spring.

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

Just came back a few days ago from a 3 week trip to Japan. Here was my experience:
To preface:

• I'm Canadian, Vietnamese, gay man, solo traveller
• I like new experiences and eating food, but I am not one to seek out the best or hottest place to go or obsessively look for tips on social media
• I like shopping and fashion and love discovering brands I am unable to get in North America
• I've been to Vietnam and I understand the very complex socioeconomical discrimination between Asians and Southeast Asians, colorism and what is considered a "rich" Asian country and a "poor" or "jungle" Asian country. I will have a hot take on this later in my breakdown.

General overview:
Day 1-3: Tokyo - I landed right on Pride weekend! It was fantastic. I knew only 1 person in Tokyo and I had some friends randomly also in Tokyo the same time I was. We went out for a drag brunch, one of the first of its kind in Japan as it's still a very new concept for the country. Performers were great though. Went to the Shinjuku gay district and had a blast discovering all these cool bars all with different vibes. It's also a great place to meet locals, tourists and immigrants (not just immigrants from Western countries, but from other Asian countries like China, Vietnam, Korea etc. who now live in Japan). There was also a festival for Pride in Yoyogi park and it was crowded and fun. Great to see Tokyo really embracing Pride.
Day 4-10: Based myself in Osaka but went exploring with my Setouchi JR West Pass throughout the week I was in Osaka. Went to Hiroshima and Miyajima Island, Nagoya so I can make my way to Ghibli Park (not a part of JR West so I paid out of pocket for that), and went to Kyoto twice. Overall, I really liked Osaka. I love big cities that are lively and noisy. I don't mind the crowds when I am also shopping in the Dotonbori area. The best part was cutting my day short in Kyoto because I was feeling sick, and then discovering that there was an exclusive Sailor Moon Museum happening in Namba and deciding to get tickets for that. Best unplanned experience that was actually better than Ghibli Park. Also, shopped on Orange Street, one of the best places for fashion lovers. Osaka castle was great but the line up to get in the castle was way too long and the day was super hot. Got to a see a high school Kendo tournament going on though so that was a neat experience!
Day 11-12: Flew to Sapporo from Osaka. It was cold. Windy on the first day. Rainy on the second day. Overall, just cold. Not Canadian Winter cold, but I wish I had a warmer jacket cold. It was the few places that had cherry blossoms left. The Sapporo Beer Museum was really neat and I liked learning about the history of such an iconic brand.
Day 13-21: Back to Tokyo. I am a remote worker and my job doesn't care where I work so I took the opportunity to save some vacation days for a future trip, and just work remotely while exploring Tokyo and surrounding areas. Went to Mt. Fuji for a day and back, did not get to see the mountain as it was really rainy and foggy that day. Wento the lucky cat shrine and it was cute but also busy for such a small shrine thanks to TikTok. Went out to the gay bars two more times and had a blast and met some new people (locals and tourists) who I still keep in contact with on social media. Got a tattoo at one point - LOVE IT. The artist was amazing and so gentle, I hardly felt anything. Did some more shopping in Ginza, Shibuya, Shinjuku and my favourite place - Harajuku! Overall, I really enjoyed Tokyo and my Japan trip as this was my first time.
Time and weather:

• rainy for half of it, warm for the other half. Chilly in Sapporo.
• was in Sapporo and Tokyo for Golden Week. Not as crazy as everyone says it would be. It was much crazier leading up to Golden Week. Was still able to get reserved seats tickets at the station itself easily and no need to book in advanced online. Honestly, didn't even bother booking online as the website isn't very clear especially when you have a JR West pass already.

Getting around:

• Digital Suica card on my iPhone. Worked for everything. So easy to use and got me around everywhere including the Kansai region and Sapporo.
• Right when I got off the plane, I got on a Airport Limo bus which was so much easier. No need to know which station to get off from and they had space for all my luggage. Took me to a hotel stop that was 2 blocks away from my hotel. Honestly, after a 9 hour flight, a limo bus is worth the $25 instead of the train and subway.
• Subways became easy to use and once you get to used to them, Osaka and Sapporo was easy to navigate as it was similar to Tokyo's subway.
• If you have a JR pass, pay attention to if you can use it on the local JR lines. Typically, you can. I forgot, and I tapped my Suica to enter a JR local line in Hiroshima, then I realized I could use my JR pass, so I stuck my pass in the machine and it let me through. But because I never tapped my Suica to leave the JR line in Hiroshima, my Suica card stopped working for train stations because it thinks I'm still on a trip in Hiroshima. Had to go to a subway guard (the ones in the booth next to the station gates where you tap your Suica), told them what happend using Google Translate and showed them my JR pass and they understood right away. They took my phone and put it on this scanner and it reset my Suica card. Very easy as if they've done this a million times before (they have).
• Used the convenience store and hotels to send my big luggage to my next hotel so I wouldn't have to deal with it on the train or train stations or flying with it when I flew from Osaka to Sapporo. Such a great service. Just bring your luggage to your hotel reception and tell them your next stop and when you want the luggage by. They will try to get it there the day you requested or the day after. Just be prepared to live out of your carry on for 1 or 2 days. If your hotel doesn't offer it, any 7-11, Family Mart or Lawson offers it. Lawson uses Japan Postal, 7-11 and Family Mart uses Yamato. I also sent my luggage to the airport before I had to leave Japan and it was a breeze. But be warned, for any transfer to an airport, it has to be 2 days before your departure flight or it won't make it on time.

Eating:
As much as I loved having a list of some places to eat at, I abandoned it and didn't really care anymore. From high-end restaurants, cafes, local places and even fast-food, everything was delicious. I stopped caring about where I ate, and just took a walk down any street and when I saw a menu I liked, I just went in. Honestly, even Denny's in Japan was amazing (it's a different menu and not like Denny's in Canada).
Shopping experience:
Loved shopping in Japan. I brought one large suitcase that was empty, put a smaller suitcase inside of it and then had my backpack and carry on suitcase. The yen was weaker than CAD, plus if you spend over 5,500 yen, and show them your passport, you'll get the tax off and some stores offer additional discounts for foreign passport holders.
Brands I bought:

• Onitsuka Tiger - best shoes ever. So stylish, comfy and very popular in Asia.
• Beams - they carry a variety of brands and their own brands.
• FR2 - great streetwear brand. They have different stores in different cities and exclusive pieces for that city.
• In Osaka, look for The Goodland Market on Orange Street. They carry brands that emphasize sustainability. Very laid-back and casual.
• Master-piece - great brand for bags.
• Saturdays NYC - this is an American brand but has a store in Tokyo. Loved the vibes. Very laid back.
• Rage Blue - easy styles with nice colours and cuts. Often had sales going on. Has a variety of brands.
• United Arrows - great styles here too. You'll be coming back to your country so fashionable.

A personal view:
I really like Japan and I would go again, but now that I've experienced it, I now know what I like and don't like. As much as everyone raves about Kyoto, I honestly didn't care for it. Inari shrine was great, the climb to the top was great exercise and most people give up not even halfway up so it gets less and less busy. I also like Nishiki market as I love street food in Vietnam so that type of vibe of just trying everything was a great experience. But honestly, Kyoto was a tourist trap (as with most places). Gion district was cute but you definitely won't find locals hanging there unless they work there. The street will be quiet for 10 minutes, then the next set of tour buses will come, 8 taxis will come and the whole experience walking through the street is kind of ruined. Also, it just felt a bit like...Disneyland. Everything was catered to tourists. I'm not someone who even seeks out places where locals are so you can meet locals as I don't really care that much if I meet a tourist or a local, if it happens it happens, but I'm not obsessed with it. But I somehow just got this feeling that Gion has been warped into a thing for tourists who are sold an "authentic, cultural experience". It reminds me of tourist traps in Vietnam, and maybe I only have this view because I've experienced Vietnam too. Perhaps a non-Asian tourist won't see this and to each their own of course. It didn't really help that there were signs saying don't take photos on private streets, and tourists would stand in front of those signs and start taking photos...
Another take is that the Japan that's shown to you on TV shows, dramas and the news is not the Japan you'll experience (unless you're always a part of a tour group). The media portrays Japan as a nation that is ONLY Japanese people, and that you will only meet Japanese people serving you and that despite a low birth rate, immigration is just not a thing in Japan. This is false. I can't count the number of times where I'll order food, have the cashier speak to me in English and Japanese (because I don't know Japanese), sit down and then hear the cashier and other staff speak Vietnamese. It dawned on me that pretty much all the food service staff were Vietnamese in Osaka and Tokyo. Probably more in other areas if I paid attention more. I started speaking Vietnamese back to them and they were surprised that I knew they were Viet. We made some pleasant conversation and for the most part they liked that someone acknowledged that they were Vietnamese. However, one time, one girl told me not to speak Viet to her or she'll get in trouble. The staff are allowed to speak Vietnamese to each other but not to the customer because the boss didn't want people to know that they weren't being served by Japanese people. Some places were more obvious such as people from Nepal, India or Pakistan working there but spoke perfect Japanese. Some places clearly only hired Vietnamese people because they can pass as Japanese. This was more shocking to me than any culture shock I could have experienced as a Canadian.
I think there's a sense of Japan being a rich nation, aligned with the US, that it's better than places like Vietnam. But after spending some time in both countries, I saw that even buildings were built in a similar way. Narrow staircases, no baseboards, sometimes low ceilings, and businesses stacked on top of each. I loved Japan and like I said, I would go again. But I think I would stick to just to Tokyo and Osaka next time. Both are also very touristy but not in a way that it's disguised as anything else. Osaka Dotonbori is a place to shop. People know that. It's extremely crowded, but you're there to shop, not for a cultural experience. If I were to go elsewhere, I would try Okinawa and maybe a rural experience too. But other than that, I'm someone who goes for the shopping and eating experience and the nightlife. I know some people might not agree with my take, as most subs about traveling to Japan always seem to be finding an authentic Japanese experience. But being able to realize that some people serving you aren't Japanese and that most experiences are waterdown and overpriced tourist experiences, you quickly realize that authentic Japanese experiences (as with any country popular with tourists) are hard to come by.
Edit: I replaced the term expat with immigrant for sensitivity.
Edit 2:
Just to provide more details on my experience that contrasts a lot of what you may find on Reddit.
Cleanliness:
Yes, parts of Tokyo and Japan itself is clean. But I have seen some parts of Toyko with garbage on the ground. Osaka is more obviously dirty if you want to put it that way. More garbage on the street, especially at night. My local friend told me that Japanese people are just good at hiding their litter and when they think no one is watching, they do litter.
Homelessness:
I saw homelessness. In Asakusa where my hotel was, there was one homeless lady on the main street near Don Quitos. I also some when you are walking to Shibuya Scramble Square. It's a big city, I'm sure homelessness is an issue there. I saw a TikTok while I was there about homeless runway children in the Shibuya and Shinjuku area.
Shyness/Attitude:
I was always told that many Japanese wouldn't really want to make small talk with you. But honestly it really depends. I had pink hair and had my nails done with a cute fun design on them. So many cashiers, retail people etc. wanted to compliment my nails and tell me how cute they were. Even leaving Japan, as I was going through security, the security lady complimented my nails as I was placing my liquids and computers in a bin. I also carried around a Sailor Moon tote bag I got from the museum and strangers on the street were stopping me to compliment it. I'm a man and I have my nails done, pink hair and a Sailor Moon tote bag. If you give them a reason to talk to you, they will.
Weak yen:
The best part about clubbing is going to the 7-11 near the gay district alleys, buying cheap alcohol, drinking it with your newly made friends, and then going back into the club to dance some more before doing it again 20 minutes later. Alcohol is so cheap there! 450 yen for a can of Jack Daniels and Coke...that's like $2-3 Canadian. We Canadians usually pay $6 or $8 for a can!
More on fashion:
I tried my best to avoid buying brands I could get in North America but sometimes the exchange rate and no tax was too good. Commes Des Garcon Play sneakers in Canada are $200 before tax. Found a design that isn't available in Canada, no tax and the conversion made them $160. Had to get them. Bought a Dior cardholder that's $480 before tax in Canada. No tax and converted price in Japan turned out to be $390. I say definitely look for the Japanese brands you can't get back home because you'll come back with more unique pieces (even if it's a popular, mass product in Japan) but also if you have your eye on designer pieces, chances are the piece is cheaper in Japan. The only thing I found that Hermes and Chanel were the same price or more expensive in Japan. But other brands like Gucci, Dior, Prada, Burberry and Louis Vuitton were cheaper.
Even Uniqlo is cheaper. The viral bag that people like is $25 in Canada. In Japan it's $13. There was a Golden Week sale that made the bags $8 each.
I did avoid some brands like A.P.C or Diesel (which is everywhere in Japan) because despite it being cheaper, I know when there's a sale on SSENSE it's even cheaper than what you could get in Japan.

Sự việc xảy ra vào tháng 9 năm 1988 tại Đại sứ quán Việt Nam ở Vương quốc Anh. Một nhà ngoại giao Việt Nam, Khang Than Nhan, đã chỉ một khẩu súng vào những người tị nạn đang biểu tình bên ngoài đại sứ quán.
Nhà ngoại giao đeo kính, Khang Thân Nhân, bí thư thứ ba tại Đại sứ quán Việt Nam, đã xuất hiện trên các tờ báo ở London vào tuần trước khi đứng trước cửa Đại sứ quán Việt Nam ở London vào Chủ nhật tuần trước chĩa súng ngắn vào những người tị nạn Việt Nam đang biểu tình bên ngoài tòa nhà.
Bộ Ngoại giao Anh đã triệu tập Đại sứ Việt Nam Trần Văn Hùng và đưa ra lời cảnh báo về “hậu quả nghiêm trọng”, đồng thời yêu cầu ông giải thích vụ việc và giao nộp bất kỳ vũ khí nào tại Đại sứ quán Việt Nam.
Tuy nhiên, sau đó, Đại sứ Trần Văn Hùng đã trao lại một khẩu súng giả và xin lỗi, đồng thời nói rằng ông sẽ xem xét xem có thể có một khẩu súng thật tại đại sứ quán hay không.
Cuối cùng, vào cuộc họp thứ ba vào thứ Bảy, Đại sứ đã trao lại một khẩu súng thật. Người phát ngôn nói: “Ông ấy nhắc lại sự hối tiếc sâu sắc của chính phủ rằng chính phủ của ông ấy thừa nhận đã vi phạm luật pháp của Anh cũng như các quy định của Việt Nam”.
Tuy nhiên, do nguyên tắc “Miễn trừ ngoại giao” (Diplomatic Immunity) trong luật quốc tế, ông không thể bị truy cứu tại Anh.
Vì vậy, Khang Than Nhan đã bị buộc phải rời Anh trong vòng hơn 24 giờ và không được cấp thường vụ 7 đến 14 ngày để đóng gói hành lý của mình như thường lệ, vì London coi tội lỗi này là rất nghiêm trọng.
Nguồn: A Vietnamese diplomat who pointed a gun at refugees... - UPI Archives
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Based off of Ep. 2 I think this is Mnet’s ideal lineup for the final group!

1. Jungeun: The clear push for center. Despite a bit of criticism this episode I think she’ll come back stronger than before.
2. Jeemin: The most popular trainee in the show by far they would be shooting themselves in the foot not debuting her. If the finale is based off votes I see her sweeping 1st place.
3. Saebi: Panorama was a star-making performance and she has a charisma that you cannot teach. Mnet might be trying to strike the Wonyoung “slayful maknae” gold again.
4. Fuko: The most popular foreign trainee, her edits have been consistently positive even when she was in the ground. The quintessential caring eldest unnie trope fulfilled.
5. Nam Yuju: Her story arc started out strong with a positive edit after her surprise drop into the ground. I think she’s both a visual & a talent pick.
6. Park Yeeun: Despite her skill level being lower than the other girls she’s consistently reigned in screentime and a potential growth arc. I think her popularity among Koreans will at least get her into the 2nd half if not all the way into the final lineup.
7. Ryu Sarang: Despite lacking in screentime all her edits have been positive and her talent is undeniable. I don’t think wakeone would hang onto her so long and continually push her if they didn’t want her in.

“Well, Sir, it wuz, ohhhhhhh ... bout 1985, I reckon it were. I wuz jest gettin back to the house after a long night of runnin shine at the old still site. A bunch of weird shit went on that night. It wuz like I kept a’hearin voices in the woods. Now, I ain’t speaking bout no human voices. Nor am I speaking Sasquatch voices. They wuz high squeaky voices, and creepy and sech. I got the impression they wuz tryin to call me off into the woods. Of course, I had a haid full of acid during my shine run, so I didn’t really pay the voices no mind. But still, there wuz sumthang bout these here voices. They twernt the usual voices I wuld hear.”
“So, I git back to the house. I decided to relax a bit before bed. I warmed me up a leftover Sasquatch burger to eat. Then I kicked back in my Lazy-Boy that I stole, and scorched a fat doob while I watched “Anal Intruder 14” (My favorite of the series) on VHS. Then there wuz a knock at my door. ‘Goddamn it!!’, I thought, ‘Who’s knocking on my door at 7am in the morn?!?’”
“When I opened the damn door I found old Sheriff standing thar. I sed ‘Goddamn it, you fat sumbitch! What the fuck are you doing bothering me this early in the morning?!?’ Sheriff sed ‘Look, Roy, I know it’s early, but I am here on official business. Old Mrs. Miller called. Her old man, old “Big Cock from Talking Rock” didn’t come home last night. He went out coon hunting near here but didn’t show up for breakfast. Have you seen him?’ I told Sheriff I ain’t seen shit, then shut the door. But old Sheriff stuck his foot inside the door jam to keep me from closing my door.”
“I gave old Sheriff a look like I wuz pissed, and I wuz. Then he put up his hand and sed ‘Roy, please?’ I could see that the sumbitch wuz troubled, so I sed ‘Well shit, you may as well come on inside and tell me about it.’ “
“Sheriff sat down on the couch while I sat back down in my Lazy-Boy. Sheriff asked ‘Is that one of them Lazy-Boy recliners? Man, they sure is comfortable. I used to have one, but some sumbitch broke into my house recently and stole mine. I sure would like to catch that miscreant!’ I looked at Sheriff and sed ‘Prolly darkies. They will steal everything not nailed down.’ ‘Yep’, agreed Sheriff.”
“I asked ‘What’s troubling ya, Sheriff?’ Sheriff sighed, then started in. ‘Well, Roy, Mrs. Miller told me some troubling things, and ... uh, Roy, could you put your dick away while we talk?’ I asked Sheriff if he wanted me to turn off “Anal Intruder 14” too, and he said he did. So I shut off my Zenith and put my thumpin stick away.
“Sheriff continued, ‘Mrs. Miller claims old Big Cock has been talking all crazy, about hearing malevolent voices in the woods at night. He even said he saw some little green men and that they were the source of the voices. Roy, I don’t want to tell you this, but old Big Cock thought these little green fellas meant to kill him.’
“Then Sheriff sed ‘Roy? ROY!!!’ I had nodded off, so I made Sheriff repeat hisself. When he finished he asked, ‘Well, what do ya think, Roy?’ I held up two fangers and sed ‘Two thangs, Sheriff. First, you need to stop assuming that I give a fuck about your shit. You need to pull up yer big girl panties and do yer goddamn job. I ain’t yer fucking daddy. Two, I like old Big Cock, so instead of giving you the ass whuppin you deserve, I is gonna hep ya.’”
“Then I asked, ‘Sheriff, you ever heard talk of the Pukwudgie?’ Sheriff thought fer a moment, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes. I then sed to Sheriff ‘You don’t know what the fuck a Pukwudgie is, dumbass. Quit acting like you is trying to think.’ ‘Sorry Roy’, sed the Sheriff. I retorted, ‘Yep, you IS a sorry sumbitch.’”
“By this point I’d had enough of this shit-head, so I pulled out my lil old Sig P226 outa my conceal holster I have sewn into my taint and pointed it right at Sheriff’s head. Sheriff’s eyes grew bigger than 2 dinner plates. He starts crying out ‘ROY? NOOOOOOO!!!!!! BIG COCK!!!!!! REMEMBER???? BIG COCK!!!!!!’ Then I thought about “Old Big Cock From Talking Rock”. I lowered my pistol.”
“Old Big Cock and I met in Vietnam, during the war. I wuz at this here whore house called “The Slanted Crack”, jest a bangin away on sum sweet, young thang when I heard a voice from behind me say ‘She’s dead’. I thought ‘What the fuck?’, but kept on pounding that gook. Then the voice sed ‘Dude, I told you, that chick is dead.’ I turned around and thar stood Old Big Cock From Table Rock.”
“I sed ‘What the fuck is you talking about, GI?’ That’s when BC walked up and sed ‘Yeah, dude, I fucked that bitch. Then I shot her in the top of her head.’ I looked down at the bitch. I guessed it made sense because she was not really participating. I looked back up at BC and asked him why he shot the bitch. BC sed, ‘Well, I figured that she just fucked me, so I owed her a fucking, so BOOM!! Yer fucked! Heh heh heh!!!’ After that, BC and I hung tight.”
“Eventually we got separated, as I got assigned to a unit sent into Cambodia to do sum nasty business. BC and I lost touch. Then, low and behold, I ran into him after the war at the feed store whar I wuz buyin sum corn fer a batch of shine. He jest happened to move into town fer sum white-bread job. By then he already got him a wife and family and turned to God.”
“Of course, old BC could not reconcile his newfound belief structure with my Satanic worship, shine runnin, whorin, and racist-terrorism lifestyle, so we did not really hang anymore. Of course, it wuz that old whore he married that got him on the straight and narrow. The old BC I remember from Nam wuz all about banging slanty eyes, knifing Cong, and blowing up children’s hospitals. He shore had changed.”
“But I do not begrudge BC a good family life. It ain’t fer ME, mind ya. But that damn war changed a lot of folks. If’n family is what BC needed, then so be it. I would still run into old BC in town from time to time. We wuz both friendly, and genuinely glad to see one another. But ever time I brung up the war he just got quiet and sed he didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Now, sir, I reckon most folks who wuz in Nam try to ferget. I cannot blame ‘em. It ‘twas pure hell. But yer old Roy has sum pretty good coping mechanisms, so it did not get on top of me like it did sum fellers. Fact is, and I am not ashamed to admit it, I had me a fucking blast in Nam! I got to hang out of choppers, firing machine guns at those little fuckers on the ground. There wuz non-stop whoring and fighting. Fer a poor old southern country boy from the hills, it was goddamn exciting!!”
“But I still got a soft spot fer old BC. We had us sum good times together, we did. There wuz this one time we stopped a caravan of trucks on this little mule path of a road in the jungle. We figured they may be moving soldiers and weapons to the enemy, so we stopped it. BC went to check on the cargo in the first truck. He radioed to us and sed ‘Well, they ain’t exactly Cong’. But due to the shitty radio BC wuz a’carryin, we only heard ‘EXACTLY ... CONG’. So we stormed the caravan and shot ever living thang in them trucks. We lit ‘em up!!”
“Turned out it wuz a caravan of local kids being bussed to a school. Whoops!! The CO blamed BC, who blamed his radio. 33 Vietnamese kids snuffed, and all because of a misunderstanding. Ha ha ha ha!!! The CO let BC off the hook. He was happy that these little fuckers now would not have a chance to grow up and shoot back at us. Shit like this kind of gave Old Big Cock a conscience, I thinks.”
“There wuz this other time in Nam when sum us guys got sent to a native hospital to vaccinate sum thar little kids. Old BC and I decided to have us sum fun. Whilst all them lil gooks wuz in the tent getting thar shots, we lit up sum firecrackers and tossed them in the tent. Well, Sir, one them grown-up gooks had a gun. He apparently mistook the firecrackers fer gunshots, so he showed his jammy.”
“That did not go over well with our GIs in the tent. The boys standing guard opened fire on the grown-up gook with their M-16s, taking out 5-6 kids in addition to their intended target. We all know them thar little gooks are sumtimes booby trapped with explosives. Not wanting to take any chances, I grabbed my M-16, stepped into the tent, and yelled ‘BOMB!!’ At that point, everyone opened fire!!”
“Well, once we got dun stacking up all the dead gook kids, we realized there wuz no bomb. The CO called me over and demanded to know why I screamed ‘bomb’. He screamed at me, ‘YOU COCKSUCKING HILLBILLY F#GGOT SON OF A BITCH!! DID YOU EVEN SEE A BOMB?’ I sed ‘No Sir!’. He continued, ‘THEN WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU YELL “BOMB” AND GET ALL THESE CHILDREN KILLED?’ I replied, ‘Sir, them lil swarthy gooks are always booby trapping thar kids. I figured it would save the lives of our good old American boys if’n we jest cut to the chase and eliminate the threat altogether, Sir.’”
“The CO thought a moment, the sed ‘GOOD THINKING, SOLDIER! GOOD THINKING!!! KEEP IT UP!’, then he patted me on the shoulder and that wuz the last I heard of it. I found old BC sitting on the ground holding one them dead gooks. He had tears streaming down his face.”
“I sed, ‘Goddamn, BC, you look like you is due fer the Thorazine Tent. The fuck is wrong with you?’ Old BC picked up a little severed leg and a little severed arm that apparently belonged to the mini gook he wuz a’holdin. With tears coming out of his eyes, Old Big Cock whimpered ‘I can’t put him back together. I can’t put him back together. I can’t put him back together. I CAN’T PUT HIM BACK TOGETHER!!! I CAN’T PUT HIM BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!’ “
“I sed to myself ‘Yikes! This sumbitch has snapped!’ I took old BC’s guns, then had a word with the CO about Big Cock’s condition. The CO told me ‘BASH THAT SICK FUCKER OVER THE HEAD, TIE HIM UP, AND THROW HIM IN THE BACK OF THE TRUCK. WE’LL SHIP HIM OFF FOR EVALUATION LATER. NOW, LET’S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. MOVE! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!!”
“That wuz the last I saw of BC until he showed up here in town. He got shipped off to the funny farm hospital. But they wouldn’t send him home. They had him pushing a broom and cuttin taters and sech, just no combat and no guns.”
“After reminiscing, I looked at old Sheriff and sed, ‘I reckon I need to see what I can do fer old Big Cock. Whar the fuck his old lady at? I need to talk to her. Sheriff asked ‘Do ya think that’s a good idea, Roy? She’s real tore up.’ I picked up the carved stone ash tray on the table next to my chair and slung it hard at Sheriff’s head. THUMP!!!! It gave him a nice, bloody gash in his forehead. Sheriff let out a howl, ‘OHHHHHHHHH!!! Goddamn, Roy! That hurts! Why did you do that?’ I sed ‘Don’t ever question me, snot-head. Now shut the fuck up and let’s go see BC’s bitch.’”
“It took us about an hour to get to BC’s house. It twere jest an average looking, white bread house. The lawn was manicured, there were a white picket fence, and 2 little statues of a couple nicely dressed negro fellers in the front yard. As Sheriff knocked on the front door, I whipped out my cock to take a piss off the porch. Sheriff musta heard the tinkling sound cuz he turned and sed ‘Roy!! What are you doing?!? STOP THAT!’ With my right hand, I gave him a stern back-handed bitch slap across his fat face. WHAPPP!!!! Then I sed ‘Shut up.’ About that time the door opened.”
“Old Mrs. Miller opened the door just as I wuz putting my cock back in my pants. Sheriff sed ‘Hello Mrs. Miller. I brought along an old friend of your husband, Roy. He lives back up in Sasquatch Hollar, near where John had been coon hunting.” Mrs. Miller sed ‘Yes, I know Roy. He was in the service with my John, in Vietnam.’ The little woman wuz not too fond of me cuz soon after they moved to town I picked up BC one afternoon, got him all coked up and ended up crashing his BMW into Bigfoot River with a dead stripper in the trunk.”
“I sed ‘Why hello there, Mrs. Miller. Sheriff here has been telling me about your husband and his problems. I came to see if’n I can help.’ Despite her feelings about me, she seemed genuinely glad I wuz here. We went inside the house and sat down. Mrs. Miller served us coffee, then we started talking.”
“Just like Sheriff has told me, old Big Cock had been acting funny lately. He started acting paranoid and talking about little green men in the woods. They wuz whispering to him in the dark woods and beckoning him to follow, though he never did. His wife sed she tried to keep him at home, but that BC sed they were calling him and he had to go; he had to find out what they wanted. He had to follow them. Clearly his wife was really concerned, but it sounds like there wuz nothing she could do to stop him from returning to those dark woods to try and break the spell they had on him.”
“Sheriff then told Mrs. Miller that I wuz an ex-commando and that I specialized in paranormal occurrences and investigations. The poor, desperate old lady looked to me with big, doe eyes hoping that I had something to say that would ease her mind, and maybe help find her beloved man. Mrs. Miller gently asked me, ‘Roy, do you think John is still ... alive?’”
“I replied, ‘Fuck no. That sumbitch is dead as hell.’ Poor Mrs. Miller went to crying hysterically. Sheriff scolded me fer being blunt with the woman. When he got her settled down she asked me what I knew of what happened. I guess I owed the old woman an explanation.”
“So I sed, ‘Look, I don’t know fer sure if old Big Cock is still alive or not ...’ Then Mrs. Miller interrupted me, saying ‘...John. Please call him John.’ I said ok. Then I continued, ‘The thang is that from everthang you and Sheriff been telling me, this is a case of the Pukwudgie.’”
“Mrs. Miller did not understand. So I explained to her that the Pukwudgie, or the little people, are small, green demonic people that live in the woods. They hate humans, and try to lure them to their deaths. Mrs. Miller looked terribly shocked. She asked ‘Are these things... these Pukwudgie, are they ... REAL?’ I sed ‘Shit yeah, they is real, woman. I seen ‘em. Best thang to do is to ignore ‘em. Well, that, and shoot the little bastards.’”
“I continued, ‘Yessir, I have seen those little peckers. You will be out thar in the deep, dark woods, runnin shine, or huntin, er fishin, or performing some Satanic magic, then you start hearing talking. It starts out real low. It sounds like a conversation between 2 or more of them, but you cannot understand them because they is speaking so fast.’”
“I went on, ‘Then, all a sudden, they call out yer name. That’s when shit starts gettin REALLY creepy. They get yer attention and then they call you to them. They will show themselves to ya if you follow their call. They is sum ugly motherfuckers too. They stand about 3 feet tall and look like little green trolls. Then, once you have contact with them, they try to lead you off into the woods. Some say that they want to lead you off so they can kill ya. I guess they ambush ya er sumthang. When I see one I usually pull my pistol and blow their heads to bits. It explodes like a cantaloupe, but it splatters this green goo.’”
“Mrs. Miller asked, ‘So, you have never followed on of these ...Pukwudgie... off into the woods?’ I sed ‘Hell no. I kill the little fuckers. BUT, they been known to get inside yer head and put a spell on you to whar ya can’t resist thar call. In that case, they lead ya off into the woods and you are never seen er heard from again ... ever.’”
“I know this wuz troubling news for Mrs. Miller, but she needed to hear the truth. After a few moments of silence, Mrs Miller asked if I would go to the woods where Big Cock went coon hunting and see if I could either find him or find his body and return it to her fer a proper Christian burial.”
“I sed ‘Look, I like Old Big Cock....uh, I mean, John. But if the Pukwudgie got him, then there prolly won’t be no sign left. They would drag him off into some underground lair.’ Then Mrs. Miller pleaded with me. She sed ‘Look, we don’t have a lot of money, but I could pay you. How about ... $5,000.00? I just got to know.’ I still wuz not eager to go about fucking with them thar sneaky little critters. But Mrs. Miller wuz getting real desperate. I wuz feeling sorta sorry fer her. I also felt some sense of duty to Big Cock, a fellow soldier.”
“I came to a conclusion. I sed ‘Ok, Mrs Miller, I will do it. I will try to find yer husband, or at least what happened to him out thar, but on 2 conditions.’ Mrs. Miller eagerly nodded. I continued, ‘First, you pays me my $5k up front, as in now.’ She sed ‘Done. I have the cash upstairs. What is the second condition?’”
“I sed ‘The second condition is that you go into that kitchen over thar, drop your drawers and bend over the table so I can fuck ya.’ Mrs. Miller’s face sank, and tears started rolling down her face. Softly she spoke, ‘John always said you are an evil man, Roy. He said you do not know the Lord. He said you did horrible things in Vietnam. Now I believe him.”
“As Mrs. Miller is talking I glance at my watch. Goddamn, it wuz noon already and I still ain’t got no sleep after last night’s shine run. Then I remembered the voices. I heard them motherfuckers last night at the Still site!”
“I butted Into Mrs. Miller’s evangelical bullshit and sed ‘I know whar they is! Those Pukwudgie were calling me last night at my Still site, which was when Old Big Cock went missing in the same general area. I thought I wuz jest high - and I wuz - but those were the weird, outa the ordinary voices I heard.’ Now I had Mrs. Miller’s attention. Even old Sheriff wuz on the edge of his seat.”
“Mrs Miller excitedly asked me would I go get her husband. She sed ‘Oh, sweet Jesus, Roy, you KNOW where he is. Will you go? Will you please go?’ I sed ‘Yep, I’ll go, and I will kill ever last one of then Pukwudgie critters. If John is thar, I will git him.’”
“Then I sed, ‘Mrs. Miller, ya’ll don’t got to pay me none. Old Big Cock is my friend. So you can keep yer money.’ She nodded, with hope in her eyes. Then I sed ‘Now git yer ass in the kitchen.’ She looked stunned. I sed, ‘Bitch, I may be not gonna charge ya, but I is still gonna fuck ya. So git in that thar kitchen and git yer britches off! The longer you take, the longer it will take me to find Old Big Cock!!’ She sheepishly did as she was told.”
“After I nutted in Mrs. Miller’s cooter, I told Sheriff to give me the keys to his police cruiser. He sed ‘Roy, you know I can’t do that.’ Then BAMMM!!!! I punched that prick right in the throat. He went down like a sack of taters. As he was lying there, desperately gasping fer breath, I fished his car keys out of his pocket and took his pistol. Then I walked out the door, leaving Sheriff writhing on the floor, and Mrs. Miller lying in fetal position and sobbing on the kitchen floor. I checked Sheriff’s pistol. It was a .380. I stopped in my tracks and sed ‘This is f#ggot shit!!’, then tossed the cheap, pussy gun on Mrs. Miller’s front lawn. I got into Sheriff’s car and then headed back to Sasquatch Hollar. I figured I would get me sum real firepower and then go kill sum Pukwudgie. On the drive I wondered how those little critters would taste grilled.”
“So I got back home and prepared to do my loadout. Fer you f#ggot-homosexuals out thar, that means getting reddy fer battle. I went into the house and the first thang I did wuz put on some fightin’ music on my music player. I chose some Dying Fetus, which be sum extreme deth metal. I stuck the CD in the player then cranked that sumbitch loud enuff old Satan hisself had to cover his ears. I wanted to get inta the mood, if’n ya knows what I mean. Next wuz my vest. It is a Russian tactical belt/vest I pulled off a dead commie bastard. I fucking hate commies! Then come the blades: 2 ProTech Godfather switchum blades and a big old Kabar. Finally, it wuz time fer the guns.”
“But before I could do my gun load-out, I had to change CDs to enhance my mood. I took out the Dying Fetus and replaced it with Goatwhore, cranked so fucking loud that even the angels above will have debilitating tinnitus. Then came the guns.”
“Them Pukwudgies are little and sneaky. I am gonna need a shotgun fer this hunt. But I also want shell capacity. So I went to my safe and pulled out my Saiga 12. I loaded some drums with 3” magnums in double-ought buckshot. This setup will literally shred them little munchkins to pieces.”
“Next came my backup weapon. Since we weren’t talking bout anything big, I pulled out my Sig M400 AR-15. It wuz already loaded wit a 60 round mag. I grabbed me 5 more loaded 60s, all green tips. Next wuz my sidearm. Again, small pussy targets. I had the PERFECT choice: My FN Five-seveN! I put that sumbitch in a holster and on my gun belt, with 2 extra 20 round mags. Those 5.7s will gut the little monsters.”
“Now fer my backup handgun. I chose my CZ75 SP-01. My particular one had 18+1 capacity. I just stuck this fucker and 2 extra mags in my belt, privateer style! Finally, jest fer Insurance, I got out my Kimber micro-9s. These are basically pocket guns of last resort. I sticks em in my overalls’ front pockets.”
“Then came the piece-de-la-resistance: My Ruger Super Redhawk revolver chambered fer .480 cartridges and with an 8 inch barrel. This wuz my true LAST RESORT CCW piece. I pulled down my drawers and inserted this big beautiful bastard right up my ass, barrel first, fer Deep Concealed Carry. I let the handle stay on the outside and fit it snug up into my taint. Then I put my draws back on and suited up.”
“I headed straight fer my still site. By now it wuz 3 pm. Them lil fuck-faces won’t come out until after dark. Like I dun sed, I ain’t been to sleep. So I thought, fuck it, I’ll lean up agin one these old hardwood trees and gits me sum shut eye while waitin fer dark.”
“I woke up just as the sun wuz settin, feeling this sharp pain in my nethers. I looked down and found a squirrel chewing on my nuts! I snatched that motherfucker up by its neck and sed ‘You mangy sumbitch!’, then SNAP!!!! I broke its neck. I then built myself a fire and skinned and gutted the critter. He wuz gonna be my dinner!”
“As I went about my business I wondered how my balls had flopped outa my overalls. I knew Pukwudgie were in the area. I also knew something else bout these buggers....something I didn’t tell Mrs. Miller. These Pukwudgie are sexual deviants who will molest ya. Ya see, I thought I wuz safe till dark. But I wuz wrong. Those fuckers were already out and about. Most likely I had one or more watching me this very moment!”
“Well, I roasted the squirrel then ate it, washing it down with shine from my tactical flask that says “BIGFOOT SLAYER!” on it. I stayed real still and as motionless as possible while I ate, like I had no idea I wuz being watched. I could hear that little bastard tip-toeing around me in the woods. That ball-fondling dwarf Pukwudgie f#ggot!”
“What struck me as odd is why these little motherfuckers chose jest now to show up here. I’m out in these here wood all the time, but have not seen ‘em in a long time. Hmmmmm ...”
“Then came the speaking, the odd, indecipherable language. I laid back agin a tree and closed my eyes. Eventually the midget-speak wore down. Then it got quiet. It wuz too quiet, in fact. Then, as if someone was right up at my ear whispering forcefully, I heard ‘ROY!!’ I sprang to attention, scairt shitless. Even though I wuz expecting it, it wuz still a fucking shock.”
“I started creeping around, outside of the light of the fire. It wuz blacker than a nigg*r out in these here woods. By now it was a quarter to 8. Then I heard the voice again. It sed ‘ROY!’ It was clearly from one of them Pukwudgies. You can always tell them, as they sound like Muppets on acid. I moved toward the direction of the voice.”
“I pushed through sum heavy brush and briars, then came out into a little opening. Thar it wuz. Right in front of me wuz one of these little leprechaun motherfuckers. It wuz green and seemed to glow slightly. It wuz sneering at me, then sed ‘Come, this way, Roy’, as it motioned me toward a path into the dark woods. I figured I ought not kill it cuz I need info on Old Big Cock. Of course, that did not mean I could not cripple it.”
“I snapped up my scatter gun and fired ...BOOM!! I shot the lil puppet monster below it’s waste, completely shredding its little legs with the buck shot. I walked over and stood over it as it wuz writhing in pain. Then the craziest dang thang happened: it opened its eyes, looked up at me and started talking. Now, one may think these Pukwudgie would start casting evil spells and shit when cornered. But this one wuz different.”
“The Pukwudgie looked up at me and sed ‘Why did you blow off my legs, you sick motherfucker?’ I told the critter to watch its mouth or I would blow that off too. But the wounded Pukwudgie kept on, saying ‘I can’t even walk now, you stupid fucking hick! Couldn’t you have found a goat to fuck tonight so you would not have to be out here turning my legs into shredded wheat, you ass-eating cock-sucker?’ I wuz a little taken back by its language.”
“I then stepped on the little prick’s lame legs and put all my force on them. The Pukwudgie let out a powerful scream of pain. Then I asked it about Old Big Cock. We went round and round, with the munchkin not giving up any intel. So I settled on a course of action. BLAMMMM!!! Another blast from my scattergun and this little twat no longer had a head.”
“I looked around what wuz left of it. He had sum funny looking leprechaun clothing on. Honestly, it wuz dressed like one of them thar Canadian figure skater homos. I searched the pockets and pulled out a wad of paper. It be nuthin but trash it had picked up and stuffed into its pockets. What an asshole.”
“So thar I wuz, in the middle of the dark woods with a dismembered Pukwudgie. My only lead is dead. But afore I tossed all that wadded up paper from the critter’s pocket, sumthang caught my eye. It wuz sumthang hard and metallic. I cut my sure-fire flashlighter on. It wuz sum motherfucking dog tags, like what ever soldier is issued. I looked closely. What I dun read from those tags almost made me shit a brick. The name on the tag was ‘John Miller’. SHIT!!! These are Old Big Cock’s dog tags! That creepy little varmint jacked these dog tags from BC!!”
“Then all hell broke loose. There came a huge commotion from all around me. Several of those little Pygmy voices were chanting ‘Roy, Roy, Roy, Roy...’ I had a bad feeling about this. Then, all at once, they charged me, from all sides. Turned out thar were five of them Pukwudgies, and they were coming at me and carrying little weapons.”
“I just tore into sum hysterical laughing at the sight. They wuz just cuter than fuck!! They wuz like puppets carrying toy swords, and sticks and sech. It wuz hilarious! All five of em stopped within a couple feet of me, perplexed by my uncontrollable laughing. They jest stood around me and looking at each other. Apparently they had never seen sech a sight. Most of thar victims turn and high-tail it in terror. But I didn’t. Finally, one of the Pukwudgies spoke.”
“This real little one looked like he wuz dressed up to be a riverboat card dealer and he carried a sharpened stick. Speaking to me in a voice that sounded like Grover from Sesame Street, it sed ‘Roy, you do not run. Are you not fearful that your life may be lost?’ That just caused me to laugh ten times harder. Again, they started looking at each other. Then the one behind me and carrying a tiny pitch fork came up and jabbed me in the ass with it. Then it demanded to know why I wuz laughing.”
“I finally got my laughing under control and got quiet and caught my breath. I then turned around to look at the little pecker that just stabbed me in my ass. It wuz dressed up like a little wizard, with sequins and a purple robe, like it had jest escaped from a gay pride parade. I lost it, and started laughing uncontrollably again. They wuz all dressed up like they were going to a gay disco on Halloween night.”
“They managed to get my long guns as I wuz writhing in laughter. Then they told me to get to my feet cuz they wuz taking me back to thar lair as their prisoner. As they marched me toward their lair I wuz still cackling up a storm. This wuz the funniest situation that I been in since I accidentally blew up the Vietnam Special Olympics thinking it wuz sum kind of weird military exercise.
“The Pukwudgie lair was underground. I had to get on my belly and crawl into a cave. Then I had to stay on my belly and crawl downward a bit. We came to an oppening with a fire burning on the floor. At least in this larger chamber I could stand up, even though I had to stay bent over.”
“Of course, I could have gotten free and slaughtered those little pricks at any time. But my task wuz to find old Big Cock. So I let them take me prisoner. It wuz pretty easy to, cuz I plum went into hysterics when I got a look at these little dwarf things and their very gay clothes and heard their cartoony sounding voices.”
“Then I spied a big pot hanging over the fire. They wuz cooking a stew of some sort, and it smelled all gamey and gross. I took their spoon and started stirring it, which really pissed off the critters. This one started kicking my ankle with the pointing-end of his costume looking shoe. I kicked that sumbitch and it landed against the wall. That got them rip-roaring mad. Jest then I got the fright of my life. As I stirred the gross looking stew, a human head floated up in the pot. IT WUZ BIG COCK’s HEADS!! Then I noticed Big Cock’s large wang floating in the pot.”
“Poor old Big Cock! He did not deserve to die like this... Murdered and eaten by maniacal muppets. The critters surrounded me and told me to get away from the cooking pot. I sed ‘You little fuck-tards kilt my friend. Now you is gonna have to pay. So I reached into my ass and pulled out my .480 revolver. The Pukwudgies stepped back at the sight of my large weapon. Then all hell broke loose. ‘BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!!!!!’ I dropped all 5 of those motherfuckers, right thar in the lair. These little twats have been known to work sum black magic fuckery, so I took my Ka-Bar and cut the heads off all five of them.”
“I found me an old burlap bag then fished Big Cock’s remains out of the stew and put ‘em in the bag. There wuz the head, both hands, and his hawg. I tied up the bag. Right before I left I thought ‘what the fuck?’, and spooned out sum of that stew and tasted it. Surprisingly, it weren’t bad. I found me an old styrofoam container one of these lil rascals must have found and brought home. I used it to hold some that stew I thought I would bring home fer dinner. So with the bag carrying Big Cock’s remains, and my take-out stew, I crawled outa thar.”
“I went back to my cabin first so I could put my stew on ice fer later. Then I departed. I had to be the bearer of bad news to Mrs. Miller. It wuz about 1:30 am, I reckon, when I knocked on her door. Mrs Miller opened the door in her night robe. Brutha, the front of that robe showed off them titties right fine! I could even make out the nipples through the fabric. I sed, ‘Honey, I dun found yer man. Then I set that burlap bag on her floor. I handed her BC’s dog tags. Then I pointed to the bag of body parts and sed ‘What’s left of him is in here. You want to take a look, or you wanna jest save it fer a proper funeral?’
“At this here point, Mrs. Miller broke down cryin. About that time I heard old Sheriff call out ‘Honey? You coming back to bed?’ Then that fat, sloppy sumbitch came walking down the stairs wearing nothing but his drawers and patrol hat. He saw me and sed ‘Oh, hi, Roy.’”
“I wuz speechless. I sed, ‘What the fuck is you doing? You fucking BC’s bitch?’ He stammered about and sed ‘Well, Roy, she is hurtin and I jest tried to comfort her, then one thang led to another.’ “
“Mrs. Miller had then composed herself and walked over. She apologized for falling apart like that. The she hugged me, saying thank you for finding out what happened to John and for bringing his remains home so she can have a service and grieve properly. I told her I wuz sorry fer her loss.”
“Then I sed, ‘You know what you need, Mrs. Miller?’ She looked puzzled. I sed ‘You need a good fucking slapped on yer ass. That fat-fuck Sheriff couldn’t make a dog come to dinner. Why don’t ya let old Roy, The “Pope of Joy”, take you upstairs and DESTROY your pussy? We’ll make Sheriff just sit there and watch, like in a cuck video.”
“So the three of us went upstairs. I tied up Sheriff to a chair and he had to sit there and watch me bang his new girlfriend the rest of the night! He even cried a little. Ha ha ha ha!!!!”
“The next morning I woke up lying next to Old Mrs. Miller. Sheriff wuz still tied up at bedside, but he wuz sleeping. His head wuz down and he wuz snoring. I wuz still a bit shook up by Big Cock’s death. Mrs. Miller wuz sleeping soundly, which wuz to be expected after I put a pounding on that pussy.”
“I sed out loud, ‘Old Big Cock, wharever you is right now, I hope ya know I is sorry fer how this turned out, buddy. But, as tribute to you and all the fun we used to have back in Nam, please accept this gesture as a token of our friendship.’ Then I reached fer my Ruger .480.”
“At the sound of the report from the pistol, Old Sheriff, still tied up, fell over in the chair, landing hard on the floor with a THUD. I then sed ‘Well, Mrs. Miller, you fucked me good. So now I returned the favor. You are FUCKED!’ Indeed, her brains were splattered all over the wall.”
“I untied old Sheriff and told him that he wuz going to have the distinct pleasure and privilege of buying me breakfast at the Waffle House this morning. He asked why I executed Mrs. Miller. I sed I wuz jest settin Big Cock free.”

“Well Sir, It wuz about 1997 I reckon and I wuz out at my still site making me sum product. I had to produce 500 gallons of hooch in jest a couple days or I wuz gonna be in sum BIG trouble. Ya see, about a week ago I wint inta town a’fore my monthly trip fo supplies. This is whin I gits my corn and sugar, and my Sudafed.”
“Well, my monthly town trip usually takes up the good part of the day. After I finish I usually go down to the local cat house to wet my noodle and then hit a local hotspot, “The Lynchin’ Tree”, fer some of the devil’s nectar and good times.”
“So on this here particular night I wuz jest a sittin’ and a drinkin’ at the bar in the “Tree”. All a sudden this here sweet little thang saddled up a’side me at da bar in one of them thar mini skertz and having one of the best “fuck me silly” looks I ever seen in her eyes. She wuz a petite little brunette with curly hair, a dark complexion, and blow job lips.”
“Now Sir, I shoulda jest turned around, got off’n my bar stool and shot sum pool er sumthin. Hell, I had already been to the cat house tonight and got my fill. I had me 3 sloots at the whore house at one time. I picked out a chank, a wetback, and a negro girl. Then we played “Slave Master and Rebellion”, which be a lil foreplayin game I went and made up. Then we all fucks each other, with strap-ons, and dildos, and wax covered axe handles. Anything and everthang goes!”
“So I got done ober at da hoe house a lil late tonight. Ya see, tonight thangs got a little too wild. After the help cleaned up all the blood and jizz soaked sheets, shit covered walls, and the purple dildo stuck in the wall, they found that thar little chink girl dead. I don’t know what happened to ‘er. It must of jest been her time, I reckon. Clearly it wuz natural causes. But I had to help the house clean up the mess.”
“Ya see, this here little ching-chong girl wuz imported. She wuz recruited from over seas to be in the Jizz-Biz. But don’t gits the wrong idea about Old Roy. I ain’t no pervert. I always makes sure they of legal age a’fer I violates them. You can tell by countin the rings inside thar vaginas. Remember: Less than 5 and yer gettin’ life; 6 or more and ya bang dat whore!”
“Now, this here weak-Constitutioned chinky chick wuz a’gonna be a problem fer the house because she wuz leased out to ‘em, ya know what I mean? She was owned by one of them thar sex trafficking cartels, and the house wuz gonna have to pay dearly fer losin’ cartel proppitty.”
“Now Old Roy is one of them thar ‘always thinkin on his feet’ kind of fellers. I knew the house wuz going to be right pissed off about this. If they didn’t kilt me, then the sex trafficking cartel would. So while all eyes were on the dead chink’s contorted body, I dived out the winder and ran fer it.”
“Of course, I shoulda high-tailed it back home to Sasquatch Hollar. But I really wanted that drink at ‘The Lynchin’ Tree’ a’fer I wint home. Plus, I had an appointment to meet with my H dealer, Old Wild Bill from Thomasville. We wuz gonna transact sum biznez then have us a friendly game of pool. So I decided to take me one of them thar calculated risks and head on over to the ‘Tree’.”
“Now, back to where I wuz. I wuz sittin at the bar when this hot little thang with the “fuck me silly” eyes and the “bend me over right here” mini skert sat down beside me. I knew she wuz trouble when I noticed the knife scar on her right cheek. Nonetheless, when my old hawg laig smells him sum good old pussy, he takes over as captain of the ship.”
“Well, to cut to the chase, about 10 minutes later I had this black-haired beauty bent over the toilet in the men’s room as I plowed her from behind. Then I thought, ‘fuck it, I ain’t a never gonna see this bitch again.’ Then I pulled out and planted my cock right up her colon. She gasped and lunged to one side. This caused her to get out of balance. The next thang I knew, I heard a great big old “THUNK!!!” “SPLASH!!!” Turns out she went head first right into the toilet!”
“Being the gentleman I is, I slowed down my pumpin jest a bit and asked ‘Is you ok, bitch?’ There wuz no answer. ‘Uh oh!’ I thought. I squinted my eyes and looked at the toilet. It wuz undoubtedly covered in a shiny red liquid. ‘Oh shit’, I thought. The first thang to shoot inta my mind wuz that I better bring this little romantic liaison to a conclusion. So I started a’pumpin’ and a’thumpin that ass double time, before that thar rigor mortis sets in.”
“Then ‘BOOM!’.... I deposited my seed. As I composed myself, I looked down at her head in the toilet bowel. It is a shame this poor girl had to go this way. I started to feel a twinge of regret now fer not flushin’ the toilet after I took that dump. It is a god-awful mess in thar! But little did I know in that brief moment that things were abouts to get much worse!”
“Alla sudden the door busts open. And when I say busts open, I mean it shattered inta pieces!! 2 big assed, swarthy Arab lookin gorillas barged in, punched me right in my face, then dragged me out in the bar room. I am stunned. We are jest a standing there, one gorilla on each side of me, when I notice sumthin strange: the whole bar wuz now empty. ‘WTF?!?!’, I thought. Jest 10 minutes early this place wuz jumpin. Now it’s completely empty!”
“I heard the squeaky front door open and looked in that direction. In walks this slick dressed Persian guy, wearing him a black silk shirt, white slacks, greased-back hair, and about 75 lbs of gold chains around his neck. He walks right up to me and asks me if I know who he is. I decided to guess. ‘Is you da 7-11 owner?’ The swarthy guy shook his head. I decided to guess again. ‘Saddam Hussein?’ The guy smiled.”
“Then the magic carpet dealer spoke. He said ‘You killed one of my best girls tonight, Moo-Shoo Pie. You owe me.’ I asked ‘Who?’ He replied ‘The girl in the whore house.’ I sed, ‘Sheeyit, man, that lil old bitch died of natural causes.’ The pecker head smiled and sed, “It is not natural to die with a dildo lodged so far up one’s anus that it cannot be extracted.’”
“So then I starts to get a little ornery. ‘Look, ya greasy f#ggot, what it is exactly that you want? Stop a waistin my FUCKING TIME and get to the point!’, I sed. The cocaine I snorted earlier wuz starting to kick in real good about now.”
“The smug Persian prick continued, ‘You owe me for the girl. She was my property. I stated my price. Pay me now or die.’ I looked at him, squinted my eyes, and sed, ‘You did not state me no price, you lyin, Lilly-livered, chunk of dog sheet!’”
“Now the Persian twat was lookin irritated. He sed, ‘Irma gave you the price.’ I shrugged. ‘Irma, I sent her ahead in an attempt to resolve this nasty matter before I arrived’, he sed. Then one of those big gorillas around me cleared his throat and sed ‘Uh, Sir, Irma is in the restroom back there.’ I sed ‘Oh, that wuz Irma? Oh yeah! I knows her. I fucked her to death!’”
“Well, Sir, that Persian punk inspected Irma’s body in the can, head all bloody and covered in poop in the toilet. Then he flew into a rage! He pulled out 2 scimitars from his pants! How he carried them in his pants without choppin off his ding-dong, I’ll never figure out. Then he started yellin all sorts of Iranian jibber-jabber. I think he meant to kill me.”
“The Persian’s freak out unnerved the two gorillas at my sides, so they let me go and backed away. The Persian is twirling his blades and yelling, like sum deranged Benihana f#ggot. Then he stopped and stared at me. Rage boiled in his eyes. He slowly raised the sword he held in his right hand and pointed at me with it. His voice quivering, he whispered, ‘Now you die.’”
“Now, I hated to ruin this swarthy little fucker’s wet dream, but I wuz not a gonna let sum fucker slice and dice me. I drew both my pistols at one time. I first pointed them out to my sides and at the gorillas. Double taps in both of their heads... ‘BAM BAM!’ They both fell like stones.”
“Ya see, Old Uncle Roy may be crazy, but he ain’t stupid. I always pack heat in case I need to get out of a sticky situation. Tonight I wuz packing me a couple of Model 30 Glocks (.45 ACP). Those two swarthy gorillas did not even pat me down. What fucking idiots!”
“I then pointed both my pistols at the Persian Prick. His eyes grew wide and wild. I sed ‘Say hello to Allah, you Iranian prick’, then opened fire.”
By this time I had been in town fer jest a few hours, but there wuz now a total of 5 bodies floatin’ around in my wake. I thought to myself, ‘shit-far! I needs to git!’ And git is jest what I did! I hauled ass back to Sasquatch Hollar.”
“Well, about lunch time the next day, the sheriff came up to see me. I wuz tannin a Bigfoot hide when I herd footsteps coming up the trail. ‘Goddamn revenewers’, I thought. I reached over fer my shootin iron leaned up agin the woodpile, An FN Ballista chambered in .338 Lapua. Then I heard a familiar voice call out: ‘ROY!! IT’S SHERIFF STEEL. DON’T SHOOT!’ I raised my rifle.”
“Well then, old Sheriff stepped out of the woods. I lowered my shootin iron and motioned him to approach. Old sheriff is one of the few folks knows how ta finds me. Ya see, we have us a little sideline deal where he lets my bootleggers run free in the county in return fo a cash kickback to him. Now, I could jest send him on a vacation to Belize. But ya never know who ya gonna gits next. So’s I jest deals with the old feller and let him think he’s in charge.”
“Sheriff walked up ta me and sed ‘Howdy, Roy’. I responded, ‘Go git fucked, ya pig.’ Sheriff hated when I talked like this. He continued, ‘Now Roy, don’t be like that. We got a real problem here. You killed FIVE people last night’. I sed, ‘shit-fire, Sheriff, you can’t prove that.’ Sheriff shook his old head and sed, ‘Roy, the state police came down this morning. They got your DNA from those two girls, and they dug bullets out of those 3 other bodies. It’s just a matter of time before they all get linked back to you.’ I asked Sheriff, ‘What’s this here “DNA” bullshit? Is that thar sum kind of leftist agenda that Hillary Clinton is behind? That nasty bitch!’”
“Old Sheriff was cucked cause he could be implicated in my shine venture.... and my meth venture.... and my endangered specie animal parts trafficking venture. Sheriff wuz a real pussy, and a potential witness. I started to reach fer my pistol tucked away in my jacket when Sheriff told me we could cut a deal with the head Statie.”
“‘What the fuck you talkin bout, Sheriff’, I asked. That crazy old coot said that the head of the state police wuz wanting to get in the shine business. Sheriff had gave him sum of Old Roy’s shine recently and it seems he had a fit over it. In fact, he wuz interested in getting a hold of sum of my shine and distributing it out toward the coast. Sheriff seems to think that if’n I offered him a taste of the action then he may overlook all that nasty business that went down last night.”
“I sighed. Then I sed to Sheriff, ‘Shit fire. I reckon you better set up a meetin.’ Sheriff nodded. He called that Statie sumbitch. Of course, I don’t git none of them pussy cell signals up’n here, so Sheriff had to hump it down the hill. Then shit started bothering me. Sheriff never came back. I started to gits paranoid. That sumbitch useless Sheriff might leads them Staties right up to my cabin. So I decided to get all my weapons ready and prepare fer a fire fight!”
“Bout 8:00 pm that night I heard a knocking on my cabin door. I looked on my CCTV monitor showing my front door. It wuz Sheriff And sum dipshit looking guy. ‘Well shit, I guess I better see what this wuz about”, I thought to myself.”
“Now obviously I gots my cabin booby trapped. I flipped my remote trigger and gassed both of them at my front door. It didn’t harm ‘em any. It jest knocks them out fer a few minutes. I installed the system myself! This allowed me to drag ‘em both inta the cabin and tie ‘em up. I left both of ‘em tied up on the floor then wint out and scanned for interlopers. It wuz quiet. Real quiet.”
“When them two sumbitches regained consciousness we had us a little talk. Sheriff said ‘Goddamnit, Roy! Why’d ya go and do a fool thing like that? My head is killing me!’ I told Sheriff to shut the fuck up. Now that Statie wuz pissed. He started making threats and all sorts of bad noise about how he wuz gonna burn me. He wuz clearly one of them thar alpha males, all purty and assertive.”
“Well, Sir, I don’t like them thar alpha males much. So I took my M-14, which I happened to have handy, and violently struck that sumbitch Statie right in his fucking face with the butt of my gun stock. Boy howdy! That city boy started squallin like a stuck hog! Blood wuz jest a pourin outa his nose! Heh heh heh!! I told him to shut the fuck up or I wuz gonna hit him again. Then he finally settled down enough fer me ta talk to him.”
“I looked eye to eye with that Statie sum bitch and sed, ‘Look, cunt, you and I is gonna have ta come to an understanding. Now I may be a willin to let you in on my shine biznezz if’n you cover up sum thangs that may have happened last night down in town. Hell, you can do that real easy like. You fellers do that all the time anyway, don’t ya? Jest pick you out a black feller and blame him fer the misdeeds. If’n you do that fer me, then I let you distribute my shine outside the county fer 10% of the revenue. You got that, pig?’”
“Now, clearly the pig did not git it. I could tell by the way he wuz lookin at me that he wuz not gettin it at all. I sed, ‘Well, boy, you jest fucked yoself.’ Then ‘BOOM!!!’ The report from the muzzle of my trusty old M-14 were a’deafening. Then I looked over at Sheriff. He wuz jest a shaken’. I called him a ‘shithead’, then ‘BOOM!!!’. Goddamn!! My ears were jest a’ rangin!”
“Then came another knock on my door. ‘Shit fire!’, I sed. They dun fucked me. I checked the CCTV feed of my front door. It wuz just one feller this time. He wuz dressed in a black suit and he wuz wearin black sun glasses. ‘Oh fuck’, I thunk, ‘It am a Men in Black!’ So I grabbed my AR-10 layin up agin the farplace, snapped back the chargin handle, and pointed it at the cabin door. I yelled at the door, ‘Prepare to die, cocksucker!!’”
“But before I could unleash a fury of .308 firepower this sumbitch comes a’ crashin through the winder. Goddamn it! I fergot to shutter them sumbitchin winders!!”
“That thar Men in Black muthafucka wuz up in an instant. He had a Sig P226 trained on my head. He told me to drop my gun. I sed to him ‘Fuck you’. Ya see, obviously if the Men in Black wuz in on this matter then I had sumthang they wanted. I wuz in the driver’s Seat in this here situation!”
“ ‘BANG!!!!’ That sumbitch shot me in the thigh! ‘You dirty sumbitch! When I gits my hands on you I gonna rip ya limb for limb’, I Says. Then BOOM! I hit the floor. The pain in my laig wuz searing!”
“Well, Sir, that there sumbitch walks over and stands over me. He asked, ‘Do you know who I am?’ I says ‘Yeah, you am the sumbitch that jest shot me in ma leg, ASSHOLE!!’ He smirked. Then he sed ‘No, Sir. My name is James Carville, and I work for a man who wants to procure some of your corn liquor.’”
“Now, up close this is one scary looking pecker. And he spoke with a southern twang, he did. But it twernt no dialect from the hill country. No sir! This scrawny little prick sounded Cajun or sumthin. Now I don’t like me no Cajun. Uhhhh uh! No sir! Thems sum chicken fuckin’ sumbitches down thar!”
“I queried the skanky lookin stranger, ‘Who be yo boss, stick man?’, I asked. He answered my question with one of his own, ‘Who is the President Of The United States?’ I answered, ‘As far as is I be concerned, there be no president like Mr. Ronald Reagan, the greatest American to set foot in Washington DC in a might long time!’ He sed ‘No, I mean who is the president TODAY, in 1997?’ I sed, ‘Well I reckon that be that lyin’ bitch-cunt, Hillary Clinton.’”
“Well my last comment caused the stranger’s face to contort a bit, like he did not know what to say. Then the feller busted out laughing his fool hed off! He wuz a slapping his knee and repeating “bitch-cunt”, which seemed to rile him up and make him laugh that much harder.”
“Finally the stranger settled his ass down. He told me he had not laughed that hard in a long time. Then he spoke calmly and sed ‘Look, Roy, my boss is called Bubba. He’s just a good old boy from Arkansas. But when we was in North Carolina campaigning he somehow got his hands on a jar of your shine. He was told that this particular jar contained a special brew that was called ‘Snow White’. Apparently it was called that because it contained something that would put people to sleep.’ “
“I remembered that run of liquor. I spiked it with ruffies, a/k/a the date rape drug. I also spanked it hard with watermelon and sugars so that the bitches would drank it. A couple sips and the bitch wuz out like a light! I did not particularly like it my own self. But I had a buyer from up north who bought all I could produce. He had him a strange name too.... Sumthin like “Jello Pop man”. I mean, I don’t rightly care what he wuz a doin wit it. I jest cared that his money wuz good. And it wuz always good!”
“So I said ‘So let me see if’n I gots this right. You wants me to brew you up sum my date rape liquor for old Wild Bill Clinton?’ The stranger nodded and sed ‘Yep, that’s right.’ Then I asked, ‘What’s in it a’ fore old Roy here?’ The stranger looked incredulously at me.”
“The stranger sed ‘Roy! Roy, Roy, Roy, my boy! You just killed 7 people!’ ‘ALLEGEDLY’, I added. The stranger then added, ‘We can make all that nasty business go away, but to do that you got to produce that Snow White Shine. Bubba wants 500 gallons in two days. If you deliver, then all is forgotten. But if you don’t, then you are going to hang, boy. Do you understand?’ I nodded, then protested, sayin ‘that’s $50,000.00 in revenue you is askin me to give up. Is you crazy???’ The stranger sed, ‘if you go to jail then you ain’t making shit except cheap wine in a toilet bowl.’ I pondered a moment.”
“Now usually I don’t take too well with being blackmailed. But this here wuz different. These wuz the fukin Clintons, one of the most dangerous crime families ever. Even if I twere ta git rid of this Carville asshole, those slimy Clintons would send more thugs after me. Under the circumstances I wuz fucked! I guess I had to look at that lost revenue as being the price fer my freedom.”
“I told Carville that it wuz a Deal. He nodded and shook my hand. I asked him how they wuz gonna clear me of all those homicides. He sed they would just get sum ‘dumbass negro’ and pin it all on him.’
“Now, I had to get 500 gallons of Snow White ready fer pickup in 48 hours. I had me a lot of work to do!”
“This here is how the story started off, and we are back at square one. I is out at my still sight jest a brewin up a storm! I had me a retarded boy named Tyrone wit me as my still hand. Old Tyrone ain’t gots much smarts, but he do as I say when I say it. This here job wuz so damn big I had to have the help. This wuz gonna take ever bit of that 48 hours!”
“So there we wuz, runnin shine. It wuz after midnight and we wuz already on our third run. Suddenly there was a ‘boom’ and a loud ‘clang!’ sound. I saw the rock after it bounced off my copper pot. ‘What in tarnation?’ I thought. Is somebody throwing rocks at me? I ain’t got no time fer that shit. Then ‘PING!!’.... another rock hit my still. Something wuz goin on. I knew that there wuz only one thing that would be throwing rocks at a still sight in the middle of the night: a goddamn Sasquatch!!”
“Well I let out an angry scream: ‘I AIN’T A’GOT NO TIME FER YER HIJINKS TOONITE, YA GODDAMN MONKEY-MAN! I GOTS ME SUM SERIOUS BUSINESS TO TEND TO!!’ I wuz pissed!!”
“Then I saw two glowin red eyes starin at me. They wuz about 10 yards er so inta the woodline. Well sir, that wuz it. All the stress of the manhunt and the Clinton butt-fukin, was a’gettin to me. I wuz pissed and I wuz gonna take it out on this here Sasquatch beast, right here and right NOW!”
“I immediately took off the bayonet from my trusty old M-14 and then leaned her up agin a tree. I needed sum cathartic release. So I aimed to whup this critter’s ass in hand-to-hand combat! Just fists and steel!”
“ I stormed off toward them red glowin eyes in the dark. As I walked up on that thar critter I began to realize how big it be. It wuz a good 16 feet tall, minimum! And prolly 7 feet across the chest. As the gravity of my miscalculation sunk in I sed to myself ‘You dun fucked up, Roy’. Those red blazin eyes twere a’starin down at me, cutting right to my soul!”
“Then sumthang phenomenal happened. That thar Sasquatch raised its arm and waived it over its head in a half-circle motion. Then ‘BOOM!!!!!’ We, The Sasquatch critter and I, were surrounded by a pulsating lime-green light! I looked down at what used to be ground and there were nuthin there!!! ABSOLUTELY NUTHIN!! I looked up above me and it wuz exactly the same thang! It wuz like we wuz floatin in a lime green tube!!!”
“Lookin back I now know I wuz in one of them thar portals, and that the Bigfoot activated it! I had heard talk of sech, but I didn’t believe it. But there I wuz, right in the middle of it!”
“Now that thar Bigfoot wuz a standin and gazing down at yers truly. But it wuz no longer emitting a threatening vibe. It wuz more like my host, or guide.”
“This dang sorcerer Bigfoot then stepped aside to reveal a rock table behind it. It looked like one of them thar satanic execution ritual tables. On this table we’re 3 thangs. First wuz a photo of that rat-bastard, crooked sum bitch, Bill Clinton, and that Men in Black prick, James Carville. Next wuz a hit order from the CIA directing that sum feller names “Vincent Foster” be wiped out. I’m familiar with these orders from back in my military days during and after Nam. They am HIGHLY top secret. This here particular death warrant wuz signed ‘William Jefferson Clinton, by HRC’. Shocking!! Finally, the third object on the table wuz a blue dress with an obvious jizz stain on it.”
“I could not believe it. This dagnammit Sasquatch wuz helpin me!! It knew that Bill Clinton wuz a’tryin to fuck me like one of his whores, and it wuz tryin to help old Roy out of a tough spot. Maybe I had misjudged these smelly beasts. Or maybe it had come to respect old Roy after our many scuff ups.”
“That thar big old Sasquatch motioned me to collect the items on the execution table, which I did. Then I looked up into those burning red eyes of the spectral beast and nodded my thanks. The beast then made that semi-circle motion with its arm again and BOOM! I wuz back in the woods again. But that supernatural Sasquatch wuz a’nowhere To be found. That wuz sum freaky bullshit right thar!”
“Then I heard old Tyrone shoutin fer me, ‘Mister Roy!! Mister Roy!!’ I stepped out of the woods and back into my still site. I told Tyrone it wuz ok. I also told him he could run along. Tyrone asked ‘But what about that dirty rat-bastard Bill Clinton?’ I sed, ‘Don’t you worry none about that. I gots me sum ammunition against that dirty cunt and her husband. Now fuck off.’”
“By the time old fuck-face Carville and I met 2 days later the cum dress scandal had hit the media. I had made sum phone calls and I got the rag in the right hands. I handed Carville a copy of the hit order on Vincent Foster. This wuz my insurance policy. I told that shit-head, ‘Now, that jizz-stained dress wuz to show you I wuz serious. You try to fuck me any more and I will instruct my media contact to release the hit order and all you scum-fuckers in the Clinton mafia are goin down.’ Carville demanded to know how I got these thangs. I unzipped my trousers and pulled out my big old wang and sed ‘Carville, I got you over the barrel. If’n you don’t check that insolent tone I is gonna make ya take it up the poop shoot ... in addition to suckin my big whompin stick.’”
“Well, old Carville bowed his head because he knowed that he’d been beat. Then he got down on his knees at Old Roy’s feet. Roy sed ‘open wide if’n you never seen one like this before! I dun warned you once, you ugly sumbitch, and now ya gonna be my whore!’”
“And that is how I got over on that rotten sumbitch, Bill Clinton. All them thar dead bodies got swept under the rug. The pigs found them not only a black man to blame, but he wuz also one of them thar Muslim dudes! Of course that whoring suck, Bill Clinton, stepped in and took credit for nabbing a “terrorist” so he could get positive news coverage. Then when that skank-bitch Hillary Clinton found out this Muslim sumbitch was a’bein railroaded to keep the Vincent Foster murder covered up, she immediately had old ‘Tyrone Muhammad Jones’ murdered before he even went to trial. So they still ended up fucking me by shortin’ me a still hand! Dirty motherfuckers! I ain’t never known nobody that can get fucked yet still come out on top like that. That goddamn Bill and Hillary Clinton positively made deals with the Devil.”

“Well, sir, my recovery was long and painful. I could not shit right fer weeks. Ever time I had to move my bowels I wuz struck by an extreme bout with pain and sufferin. It wuz a’like I wuz being savaged all over agin. I knew I could never forgive that beast!”
“As soon as I could git around agin I decided to implement Plan A. I jest happent to have me sum land mines that I smuggled home after Nam. What I dun did was set me up some obstructions around the old homestead in order to funnel that critter down certain paths if it approached my cabin. Then I set out my land mines along sed paths. That-a-way when that critter came fer me agin it would git it’s balls blown off and then I would jump it and take him out!”
“Once I set up the explosives I waited fer nite to fell. Then I went to my old wood pile, pulled off my trousers, and bent over the woodpile like I wuz lookin to be banged up the old wazoo. Then I called out, ‘Here I is!! Cum gets me, you old Bigfoot!’ Of course, I wuz armed to the teeth, including my trusty old Barrett .50 BMG shootin iron.”
“Hours wint by, they did. I reckon it wuz about midnight when I first became burdened with doubt concerning my tactic. Suddenly, I heard a rustlin coming up my way, from up the trail! I thought, ‘Oh shit! Here he comes!’ Then I started saying real loud like, ‘Here I is, Mr. Bigfoot. Come git you sum of this here man-pussy!’ The noise continued. It wuz definitely a bipedal creature and it wuz a’ comin’ this here a’ way!”
“Then a human voice called out. ‘ROY!! ROY!! Don’t shoot, it’s me, Drew!!’ I thought to myself, ‘Drew?!? Oh Shit! That’s old Wild Drew from Appaloo!!’ He wuz a shine buyer! I yelled out ‘DREW!! KEEP YER ASS STILL!!! THE TRAIL IS ...’ ...... KA-BOOM!!!!! The sumbitch went and stepped on a land mine!”
“So I ran down the trail a bit with my old lantern to find Old Drew blown to pieces. His legs were dun blown clean off! His bloody torso wuz a’layin on its back. Drew wuz barely conscious and had blood comin outa his mouth.”
“I looked down at what wuz left of Old Drew and sed ‘You stupid motherfucker! You fucked upon my booby trap!! What the hell is you doin up here this time of nite?!?’ He sed ‘Buying shine. You told me to be here at midnight for a buy.’ I thought to myself, ‘Oh shit. I fergot about that!’ Then I sed, ‘You still went and fucked up my booby trap, asshole!’”
“I then unholstered my Smith .460 revolver, looked down at Old Drew, and sed ‘Well, boy, I guess I is gonna have to put ya outa yer misery.’ Drew protested, saying he jest needed sum medical attention and he would survive. But I knew better. There wuz no way this sumbitch wuz gonna survive tonight. BLAM!!! That old slug from that powerful .460 exploded Old Drew’s head like a water balloon!”
“I had to spend the rest of the night cleaning up this mess and gettin rid of the forensics and sech. That dumbass Drew fucked up my hunt and I got more and more pissed and I cleaned up his shit. But I finally got it done a little a’fer sunrise. So I decided to call it a night and hit the hay.”
“After the utter fiasco of Plan A, I decided to activate Plan B. I rigged me up a gun turret on the roof of my cabin that would swivel 360 degrees. I had me an old .50 cal machine gun in my shed that I traded sum meth fer. That is a heavy motherfucker too! I had to wrestle that bitch up the ladder and onto the roof by myself. I bolted it down and decided to try her out. Fortunately, I had me a stockpile of ammo fer this here hawg leg.”
“I cut loose with a volley of machine gun fire. TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!! The sound wuz music to my old ears! It wuz literally cuttin’ the tops outa trees. Beautiful!! With the gun ready I climbed down from the roof and set up the bait.”
“Earlier in the day I went off into town to round up a couple homosexuals. I went down to our local queer bar, ‘The Fudge Tunnel’, and set a trap. Basically I jest stuck my head into the door and yelled ‘free blowjobs in the back of my truck!’ Those fags, they came a’runnin. The first one came out the door, and ‘BAM!’, I whacked that feller in the head with an axe handle. Then ‘WHAM!!’, I hit another! Then ‘WHUP!!’, and another one was down, then another, and another.”
“I only needed a couple of them thar queer-o-fagulas, so I Left all but 2 a’lyin’ thar on the ground. I jest picked out two of the ones that still appeared to be alive, then hauled them to my truck and throwed ‘em Into the back. Then off I went, headed back up to Sasquatch Hollar.”
“I had them thar 2 queers tied up in the back of my truck with their mouths duct taped. I have me an old dog pen next to my house, ya see, that I ain’t been using fer a good spell. I hauled them faggots outa my truck and threw ‘em Into the pen then pad locked it. Through the fence I cut ‘em free.”
“I looked at the 2 homos in the pen and sed, ‘Ok, now fuck.’ “
“Ya see, my plan wuz to create a gay sex scene at my old cabin to draw in that pervert Bigfoot, Then I would cut it down with my machine gun atop my roof.”
“Them thar fags were not at all agreeable with my request. They wuz riled up real good, they were. They wuz crying, and begging. Then they jest started threatenin old Roy, saying they wuz gonna sue me and get me locked up. Clearly, they wuz in no mood to fuck each other.”
“Well, son, yer old uncle Roy bowed his head and sighed. It wuz time fer an agonizing reappraisal of the situation. I then drew my sidearm, an FN Tac chambered fer .45 ACP. BAM!!! BAM!!!! They both dropped like sacks of taters. ‘Sumbitches...’, I thought.”
“Then I had me an idea. What if’n I jest kind of prop up these two homo corpses and make it look like they are buttfucking each other? ‘Hell, why not?’ I thought. So I bent one over a 5 gallon bucket, ass up, then I positioned the other one as the “top”. I secured them both with duct tape. Hell, It looked right to me!”
“As it wuz gettin dark I found me sum gay-faggot porn on one of the homo’s iPhones, so I put it in the dog pen with the butt-fucking corpses so the scene would be realistic. Then I took my position on the gun turret. I knew it may be a long night, so I smoked me sum sweeeeeeet meth I recent made. In fact, since I been holed up fer so long recovering from the Bigfoot rape, I had me a lot of time to cook up sum good meth. I figured I had me about $10.25 million gross in inventory, it would have been more, but I wuz bored outa my mind while convalescing.”
“Well sir, I did not have to wait long tonight to get sum action. It wuz jest half past dark, I reckon, when a big old rustling sound came from the trail leading to my cabin. But sumthang wuz not quite right. It wuz real loud like. Plus, it sounded like there wuz a LOT of ‘em! Maybe there wuz a whole goddamn clan of them horny fuckers coming after me. ‘KA-CLANK!’ I chambered a round in my gun and got ready.”
“Then there came a chanting. It went sumthang like ‘Hey Hey, Ho Ho, Homophobic Roy Must Go!’ Then I saw the lights. I had to study on this fer a moment. What in tarnation wuz goin on here? Then I got it. The lisping chant confirmed this as a gay protest march! But why wuz they up here in old Sasquatch Hollar? I let them approach.”
“The best I could tell, there wuz about 30 of them fag-o-sexuals. They had no idea how much danger they wuz in, what with that old rapist Bigfoot lurking around here. I bowed my head and sighed. ‘What dumb motherfuckers’, I thought. ‘They will thank me when they aren’t violently fist-fucked by that big old gorilla out here’, I said to myself.”
“TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT!!!!!!”
“The barking of that old .50 cal machine gun is a thing to behold! It chewed up them thar protesters like they wuz soda crackers. From the light of the fires in the woods started from intermittent tracer fire mixed in with the regular cartridges, I could see nuthin but shredded body parts and red splatter. ‘Sweet Bleedin Jesus!! How the fuck am I gonna clean up ALL THIS?!?’, I thought.”
“I decided to call it a night cuz there ain’t no critter comin round these parts after all that machine gun fire. I needed to get rid of all that biological evidence. So I went down to my shed and got my old flame thrower. I fueled up the tanks, strapped it on my back, and then went to werk.”
“I burnt up nearly all them woods that night. By morning it wuz a charred, smoking, burned out mess. I fixed me sum breakfast then had a seat on my front porch to sip some corn liquor. It wuz time fer Plan C. I decided I would catch me a lil nap on my porch first, in my old rockin chair I hand-made from Sasquatch bones. Then I would git up and implement Plan C.”
“Now, son, I musta been real tired cuz I did not even hear Sheriff walk up on me while I wuz napping on my porch. That is one of the detriments of gettin old. Twenty year ago I could hear two snails a’fuckin two ridges over. But now, time are a‘ changing,”
“I awoke with a start. Sheriff wuz saying my name, ‘Roy! Roy!! Get yer ass up!!’, he demanded. Quicker than a northeastern Democrat fucking a voter, I jumped up and punched old Sheriff square in the nose. He fell like a stone, blood spurting outa his nose everwhar.”
“Old Sheriff started right in a’whinin, ‘Now Roy, why did go and do a fool thing like THAT?!?’ I replied, ‘Cuz you snuck up on me, on my own damn property, shit head. Next question!’ Old Sheriff stood up, shaking his head and holding his bloody nose. He wuz a fat old disgusting sumbitch. I used to fuck his old lady before she got fat.”
“Sheriff continued, ‘Now Roy, we got us a serious problem here. You know that faggot bar down on Highway 53? Somebody went down there and beat the shit out of 7 of those homos. 5 of them are deader than a doornail. 2 of them are missing. Then, last night a bunch of them, around 30 of them, went off after the culprit. Word on the street is that they they think YOU are the culprit, Roy.’ The Sheriff looked troubled.”
“Old Sheriff then looked up at me, right in the eye, and said, ‘Tell me you did not go down there to that queer bar and kill a bunch of them fags, Roy.’ I did as he asked. I looked Old Sheriff right in his eyes and sed, ‘Sheriff, I did not go down thar to that faggot bar and kill those cocksuckers. You know me, I ain’t no fucking bigot.’”
“A look of relief came over Sheriff’s face as he started smilin. He sed, ‘I knew you wouldn’t do such a thing, Roy. I am just doing my job. By the way, did you see any of that group that went off looking for you?’ I sed, ‘Sure did. Them fuckers showed up here after dark, all hootin’ and hollaring. I cut ‘em all down with that thar machine gun mounted up thar on my roof’, I sed, pointing to my roof. ‘They’s all deader than hell’, I said.”
“Old Sheriff’s smile disappeared. He sed ‘Roy, why did you DO THAT?!?!? There’s talk in town about calling in the FBI to Investigate this as a hate crime.’ I waived my hand dismissively. ‘Fuck ‘em, I sed. They wuz all wild and out fer blood. I wuz jest defending myself.’ Sheriff seemed to like this, leaning forward and asking ‘really?’ I looked at the tub of lard and sed, ‘That’s what I sed, ain’t it?!?’, then I bitch-slapped Sheriff so hard he fell backward and onto his fat ass.”
“I then turned my back to Sheriff as I told him to get the fuck off my property. The old Sheriff stumbled to his feet, stammering ‘Ok, Roy, Ok. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.’ I flipped him my middle finger as I heard him scurry off. Then something unexpected happened.”
“BAM!!!!! The explosion was crisp and loud. That dumb sumbitch Sheriff stepped on one of my buried land mines from the other night. I lowered my face into both of my hands. ‘That stupid motherfucker ...’, I thought to myself.”
“I found old Sheriff blasted to pieces. It looked like he had grown a little soul patch below his bottom lip. On closer inspection it wuz jest a piece of his hairy ball-sack that wuz blown off him and landed on his chin. Struggling to speak, old Sheriff looked up at me and sed ‘Roy...’. He did not get another word out before BLAMMMM!!!!!!! The sound of my Ruger .480 echoed through the valley! ‘What an asshole’, I sed, referring to old Sheriff.”
“Then, things rapidly took a turn fer the worst. I turned to go back to my cabin to get the flame thrower when I see that big old, 17’ tall rapist Bigfoot... STANDING NOT 20 FEET FROM ME!! That big sumbitch somehow managed to sneak up behind me without a sound, and it stood between me an my cabin. What’s worse is that it had a huge, red hard-on that must have been at good 20” long, throbbing and pulsating. IT WUZ POINTING RIGHT AT ME!”
“That’s when that big old critter did something really fucked up. It started grinning at me. Then, it raised its arm and hand and pointed at me, as if to say, ‘I’m gonna fuck you.’ A feeling of dread came over me. I knew my little old .480 wuz not gonna stop THIS beast. The thought crossed my mind about turning the gun on myself, but I opted agin this. I wuz jest gonna have ta take it like a man.”
“As the horny Sasquatch stood there I started taking off my overalls. Once I got nekkid I got down on my hands and knees, with my port of rear entry pointed at the beast. It jest watched me, clearly not expecting me to jest submit. Then a look of pure evil and meanness came over its face. I knew what this look meant: It was pissed. It wuz not gonna let me cheat it out of a brutal beating. It wuz gonna make up fer the lack of a fight by fucking me extra hard, and prolly to death.”
“Now what this critter did not know wuz that he wuz about to meet his match. I wuz always half-expecting this sumbitch to pop up at any awkward and unexpected moment when I was vulnerable. That is typical Bigfoot shit. They are dirty motherfuckers! Secondly, that fist-raping he put on me, along with the ensuing reparative surgeries, caused a major buildup of scar tissue in my rectum. I mean, it is bad. It is so bad that I could stick a burning road flare up my ass and I would not feel a damn thang.”
“So I had made me a contingency plan. I had me sum razor wire out in my shed. I cut me off about five feet of it, wadded it up, and put it up in my ass. I felt nothing, but I knew that the Bigfoot would feel sumthang!”
“So, with me nekkid and on my knees, ass in the air, that big old creepy beast came up from behind, aimed it’s massive cock, then shove it, HARD, up my ass. It immediately let out a blood curdling scream!”
“AASAAHHHHHHHHHJJJNJHHHH!!!! It roared!! The pained roar bounced from ridge to ridge, and down through the valley!”
“I turned around to look as the Bigfoot withdrew from me. His dick wuz so cut up that it looked like a slinky! Blood wuz everwhar. Flesh wuz hanging off the animal’s shredded cock. Then the poor bastard drops to its knees, cradling what is left of its Johnson in its hands.”
“As the motherfucker was mourning his loss, I retrieved my .480 revolver from my clothes on the ground. I walked up to the moaning Bigfoot as it looked down at the mess between his legs and pointed my pistol right at its head. I pulled the hammer back, ready to put a bullet in its head.”
“The Sasquatch, still on its knees, looked up at me with an expression that sed, ‘Why did you do THIS?!?!? You don’t mess with another man’s fuck-tackle!’ On sum level I agree with this sentiment. You do not go after a dude’s junk. But, this sumbitch raped me, so all bets are off.”
“That swarthy beast accepted its fate. It would rather die than live without his beefy schlong. It lowered its head and I pulled the trigger, causing its head to explode like a bottle of soda! ‘That sick sumbitch, I hope it burns in hell’, I thought.”
“That’s how I got my revenge on that bastard. That wuz the biggest Foot I ever did see, and the creepiest. I ate most of that sumbitch, and fed the rest to my hawgs.”

The Sikhs are creations of the Guru’s universal love. They are by their very birth of His spirit citizens of the world.
This small world has been knitted together now as never before. Though wars still rage and will rage, for brothers must fight for patrimony, the spirit of fraternal reconciliation is in the air. Blood is thicker than water, and of the same wheaten bread and water and grapes and salt and wine we make the scarlet blood. The human body is one, the human soul is one. Human beauty is one. Our perception of the Beautiful is one; our self-intoxication is the same. Our pursuits of pleasure are alike. There is no difference between man and man. Our Guru says, the ears, the eyes, the speech of man are the same all the world over. The Guru also traces the angelic and the divine in us and emphasises this feature of our nature, showing how we may indistinguishably mingle with the angels in the Realm of angels. The heart-beat of man is alike from Japan to America, and man has already begun to recognize his heart-beat in all living things. Abraham Lincoln’s fight for the freedom of slaves in America gives him the dignity of a prophet amongst statesmen. That large sympathy of man for man is the recognition of the same heart-beat. Men, few men, have gone further, some for brief moments of inspiration, others for long, and they feel their blood in the veins of the animals. Buddha prohibited animal slaughter. Priyadasa issued edicts which made the beef-eating Aryan races of India vegetarian. This was the mass appreciation of Tathagatha’s great compassion for all sentient beings. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is typical of the curious contradiction of the nature of the man who eats chicken with his plate of rice and goes out of doors to prosecute a driver who is beating mercilessly with his lash his jaded horse in order to get a little more speed out of him. Wars rage and sisters of mercy nurse the wounded of both camps. All these contradictions of feeling only show that something nobler is stirring in the human mind and soon it will be born.
The universal brotherhood of man has become a cant from the lips of the priest, as the universal oneness of life from the lips of the philosopher. All the higher tendencies of civilized and cultured men tend towards universal kinship. All desire peace upon the earth, this small sweet home of man. The days of patriotism are gone: patriotism was a foolish clannishness. In these days man with a patriotic feeling is a brute, because patriotism makes him blind to the larger interest of the family of man. All the barbaric selfishness that still dominates the narrow-minded politics of the governments of different countries is due to the wrong notion, “This, for me alone and for none else.” We need not recall here the stupid jealousy of the white settlers in different parts of the world who reserve the best pieces of land and the best rights of man for themselves and look with manifest contempt on the coloured races. For that jealousy is the rotten patriotism of the old world when brother was divided from brother and neighbour waged war against neighbour. We need not refer to the strength of arms that crushes the low-lying victim and eats it up, for there are men who have not yet been able to rise above man-eating tendencies. We need not refer to the fight that is going on apace all over the world between capital and labour, the aristocratic state and the proletariat, for this strife only thickens the gloom before us. The gloom of centuries seems to thicken still in the old ways of the brute and the beast. We, however, wish to look at the distant rays of the coming Dawn of Peace between brother and brother, members of the one human family.
In the modern world, there is no towering personality, the race of the old worthies has been run. England has not yet given us another Carlyle nor America produced another Abraham Lincoln. And because of this want of greatness, there is confusion not only in the direction of world-politics but in all human affairs. Little points that Napoleon would have solved as part of the day’s work, are put before committees and sub-committees and take years of discussion and still remain the fourteen points unsolved.
This is the misfortune of modern times. Great men are true representatives of the people. So, they have been in all ages, for true greatness is always representative. But the giants are gone, and now the tiny dwarfs flutter and shake their wings. They have not the soul in them to take any responsibility. They are not great enough. They have misunderstood democracy. By the introduction of the idea of democracy into politics, perhaps, that tall, Himalayan kind of human personality has been made impossible. All have become sand grains in one great level desert. The winds blow and heaps of sand arc gathered here and there and then are blown away. Such is the fate of human affairs in this age—a significant fate! All ideals are in the melting pot and from the great liquid will crystalize the New Ideals. Then the world being tired of these dwarfs will cry for its old Himalayan giants again. “Down with democracy!” will they cry, as they once cried “Down with Kingship.” There will be no revolutions, for revolutions have not made us a bit more comfortable than the old obedience. Better obedience.
At present, we can only see the tendencies. One great bent of human thought is towards internationalism. And I dare say this thought began in the modern world with Guru Nanak. “Down with caste distinctions!” Man is one. There is no such thing as Hindu or Sikh or Mohammadan or Christian, the eastern or the western. Man is man, and man is one. As long as man carries a label distinguishing him from his brother man, he has not risen to the dignity of man. True culture is that which does not make him a Sikh, or Mohammadan or Hindu or Christian, but a man. True education is that which does not make him Indian or English or Japanese or American but man. A truly educated and cultured man is he whose radiant sympathy, whose genuine feelings, whose brilliant mind, whose God-like manners bring him the spontaneous kinship of all the races of man wherever he may go, so that he becomes indistinguishably a man of all countries, colours, climes and castes. This is the spirit of the Gurus. Guru Nanak fascinated Mardana. Mardana never after seeing him called himself a Mohammadan. Bhai Nand Lai after seeing Guru Gobind Singh never called himself a Hindu. Who so ever met the Guru in his soul said “he was no other but a man”. There is one sky over a Mohammadan’s, a Hindu’s, a Christian’s head; the same winds blow for everyman, for everyman the same waters flow. When the river has no such labels, it is gross ignorance to call ourselves Hindus, Mohammadans, Sikhs, Christians—and there are many others—names which divide rather than knit us together. Of what use is our going to the prophets and saying we are their followers, if we are a disgrace to their genius, genius which was exhausted by making the human wolves flock together as lambs under the protection of one shepherd? When the Guru says man is one, it is blasphemy for us to recognize Hindus, Mohammadans and Christians any more. Bhai Bir Singh of the Sikh time is the type of the Guru’s man. He lived in a fort, he was of the Guru. Though a man of renunciation he lived like a king in a fort, such is the need of the soul that is given to the Guru. He had minstrels to sing to him, for they loved to see him grow translucent in flesh as they sang and loved to see the tears of ecstasy roll down from his closed eyes on his cheek, as a baby weeping in his cradle in dream. They said he had more of Him than they had, so they sang to him, they recognized him as their prince. And the Fort was a temple in the image of the Golden Temple of the Guru. The herd of Sikh soldiery mad with lust of revenge on the men and Princes who opposed their mob rule beseiged the Fort of Baba Bir Singh. “Either surrender such and such a Sikh prince who has taken refuge in the Fort or we blow it up.” The ultimatum was given. “My fort? No, it is the Temple of Guru Nanak. The prince has taken shelter with the Guru. I am nobody here. All right let them blow us up.”
The mad soldiery started the firing.
“Come, ye minstrels, and sing now our wedding song,” said the old saint whom the religious history of the world does not know, because the Guru’s man never proclaims himself. Loving the rapturous silence of His Love he lives and dies in it. “My system is for me to live by. And I am as a tree that gives shade wherever I am”. And the minstrels came and gathered round him. They began singing the psalms of the Guru. The shells fell. That rampart is gone, that parapet is broken. And then fell a shell in the choir and the Baba was gone. But before this happened, the inmates of the Fort asked his permission to reply fire. For they had all fire-arms and ammunition. “No”, said the Baba, “They are brothers, not enemies.” But they are firing.” “They know not we are their brothers. We know they are. This knowledge makes all the difference.” The difference was death. For those who value the Guru’s ideal of brotherhood prefer death. There is indeed no justification for the man of the Guru to hate any sentient thing, far less a man. It is therefore no fanatic thought of a fervent Sikh that this ideal of the brotherhood of man starts with the Guru. This one great tendency of the modern epoch of the world of internationalism has its root in the ideals of the Guru. These ideals put you to shame. You are not amongst yourselves full of pure love for each other, you have not yet dropped selfishness in love and given yourselves wholly to love. In face of this small performance, your calling yourselves His only is empty talk. But we must hang our heads in shame and stand condemned, if we have not yet acknowledged love as the only substance of human life. It is not for me to remind you of your performance. I am showing you how in the modern world the idea of the Guru is slowly appearing as softly and as brightly as the morning sun embroiders with a thin ribbon of gold the black velvet of the winter clouds. We have not yet risen to His Ideal. We are not His yet, in spite of wearing two swords and two turbans and drinking the sugared syrup to our heart’s content. Self-flattery cannot give us wings to fly. Those who have wings fly and never see the earth. The larks know naught but their own song.
The second great tendency of the modern world is towards dropping the so-called religions. Enough of them. The world is tired of them. And I call your attention to this, this very disgust of the Guru, the disgust of a well-informed, fully emancipated mind of the modern age apparent in every page of the Guru’s writings. If you read closely Asa-di-Var, you will find it. If you read Akal Ustati of Guru Gobind Singh you will find it, indelibly written. All gods are relegated to the past. All religions are thrown away. If you look at the type of lives the Guru created in the Punjab you will for the first time see the Ideals of civic life coming into being. You will see men with families serving the poor and the weak with their very lives. A man apparently not of their persuasion comes complaining to the Sikhs assembled in the Golden Temple at Amritsar that a tyrant has snatched away his wife. The assembled men all rise and go. Some of them die in the affray, others restore the wife to her husband. These were men wholly unpractical in the ordinary worldly prudent sense. They reeked not of power and of the kingdoms of this world. For all belong to the Guru, we are his dedicated servants. This feeling made the men of the Guru as universal as wind and river and light. If our daily life is not ideal as was that of the old disciples of the Guru’s, if we have no spiritual expression of the Guru’s ideal in our society, and in our homes, if there is no musical peace of the soul as expressed, say in the homes of artistic Kyoto or Tokio, nay more, if there is not more cleanliness, more divine human feeling, more spiritual charm that fascinates us in the aesthetic Japanese, in the temples and offices of the Shiromani Gurudwara Parbhandak Committee, then of what use is our falling flat with both our arms spread on the floor of our temple and of what use is our cry to possess them? Then I will frankly call this possession of temples by my Akali brothers a bearish embrace of brick and mortar. If the spirit of the Guru which alone makes all temples sacred has departed from our hearts, of what interest to us or to the world are our shrines? If our shrines do not establish an atmosphere of that inner music which rained down from the thorny branches of the Punjab acacia when Brother Lehna shook it under the bidding of Guru Nanak and the hungry were fed, the significance of shrines to a people so lost to love and passionate love of the Guru’s perfection shrinks to nothingness. And the superstitions and formal sanctimonious regard for them is the sign of the death of that feeling which brought them into existence. I am for the absolute maintenance of the spiritual atmosphere, but not for that exclusive possession as of our peculiar inherited property. I see no reason why in the Golden Temple should not gather the Hindu and the Moslem and the Christian to recite their kathas and songs, provided they serve to maintain the peaceful, radiant spiritual atmosphere characteristic of the Guru’s teaching. That great calm harmony of the complexity of faiths and the inner oneness of all religions is the special theme of the Gurus. The very first thinker on comparative religion was Guru Nanak. Akbar followed in a weak dreamy way, obsessed with the sense of his being an Emperor and capable of starting a new religion. Abul Faizi perhaps was responsible for his doings. The modern world East and West followed. The great spirit of toleration for all religions that modern religious movements such as Theosophy have started, the unifying cultural movements of the world, are all under the driving sankalpa of the Guru whose mind governs the activities of the coining world that is to take shape according to His will. In fact, there were many Hindus who had staunch devotion for the Sikh ideals. True they did not join us, but they had sympathy with our persuasion and we have thrown them out. Our Guru says, “I embrace the sweeper who has His Nam in him.” And we shut the doors of our heart. The shutting of temple doors is immaterial, but the shutting of the doors of the heart is not in harmony with the Guru’s ideal of the universal kinship of man. People point out that we do not treat the low castes that have joined (perhaps only outwardly for social reasons) our persuasion on a basis of human equality. The sad fact is not our treatment of these people, but the smallness of our moral stature in comparison with the ideals of the Guru. Closely connected with this comes the question of what they are pleased to call “our symbols”. We as men of the Guru have no symbols. We, I say, as men of the Guru have no so-called religion or religious creed as others have. “Then what are these impediments of long hair and beard?” asks the impatient young Sikh who sees that the see no reason whole world is clean-shaven with a cigarette in its lips. And it is so neat looking. “I wish to be like that. After all what does the hair matter when my heart is pure?” The question is quite simple to answer when the answer is based on an intellectual analysis of things. And who is there to compel any one to be of the Guru, unless one feels the need of His love and His protection and His Ideal and unless one seeks ardently for Him?
But those who have been to Him and have loved Him and have received His gifts cannot throw the gifts of the Guru to the winds and still say they love Him. It is a question of the intensity of personal love for the Guru. Those braids of Jesus Christ and these sacred knots of the Five Beloved of Guru Gobind Singh who tied them on their heads with his own hands are His Gifts thenceforward. For one who has any feeling in his breast, death is more welcome than parting with His gifts. But at the same time, we should not be so foolish as to impose the possession of these gifts as a condition on the modern man for his capacity to sympathize with the Guru’s ideals and to accept them for his soul. As I told you, I feel it is the Guru’s ideals that are working in the world today and the shape and colour and race and religion of the different nations of the earth do not hinder the growing acceptance of those ideals. Men are driven to go Guru-ward. All the modern tendencies, political and religious, are turning men towards Him. It is simply stupid in this age of the progressive tendencies of man to tie him down to any superstitious symbols. Symbols will be discarded if they are merely symbols. But we Sikhs of the Punjab saw Him, met Him. He gave us His personal love and we gave Him ours, though we went astray and still go astray. The sacred knot of hair is our veritable crown, because it is His gift. Better death than parting with this gift. After a short while, except for this shape of the Guru, all other things they call symbols shall be as one chooses. To say that because a Punjabi Sikh binds a turban, the American Sikh sympathiser shall therefore be precluded from wearing his hat is the idle jugglery of an ignorant fanaticism for a local personal gratefulness to Him who freed us from caste and superstition and saved us from the hands of political tyrants. But different indeed shall be the covering of one who meets Guru Gobind Singh and gets a particular headwear as a gift. You all remember how Guru Amar Das during his discipleship received from Guru Angad Dev a piece of khaddur as a gift and token of His love for Him. The disciple knew not where to keep it. So he put it on his head and there it remained. A year later he was given another piece and he put that on his head over the old piece. It is madness to bring such things under intellectual analysis. Feeling alone understands and worships such sublimity of feeling. Personal love given to the Guru is our discipleship. But we have no right to call others to discipleship unless the Guru is revealed in us and the soul of man is instinctively attracted to that Great Love. To other men the call will come direct. We have got a bad habit from the modern Christian missionary of going with the Bible in hand in the dust and noise of the streets, saying “Believe in Jesus or you are forever damned”. None has the right to preach such things which are on the face of it concerned with personality. Is it not shameful that we go and auction our Beloved for the fun of preaching a sermon that has but one effect of causing hatred between man and man? Because of my personal love of my Beloved, I should be so radiant that my radiance should conceal me and my Beloved from all. And yet my radiance should be a revelation of Him, as is the fragrance of the rose. It is certainly a tiresome futility for us to go impressing on the busy world of to-day that unless they keep long, hair and wear turbans they cannot understand the Guru. The Guru is already diffusing his mind in the world-mind and if, like other theologians and priests, we strive to force upon the world our particular theology and rites and symbols we shall certainly fail. As the shape of nose and ear and eye cannot be limitations for the ecstasy of the soul, so no symbol, no rite, no particular form, no particular virtue or vice can impede the inner realization of the great ideals of the Guru. But as the mystic expressional types of the Guru’s mind, we have to roam in this world and spread the fragrance of the Guru with the braid-knot he gave us, and the flowing beards. Our shapes indeed can, in no sense, be considered symbols. But more important is the expression of the Sikh soul through their medium, and if that expression is lacking, our very life and body, whether our head be dressed or clean shaven, are meaningless superstitions. To a person given to religion, as one given to intense human love, trifles relating to the soul are more essential than realms of silver and gold. Surely for such people the very superstitions contain more reflections of truth than the gathered facts of the learned people of the world. If one who is at peace and fully intoxicated on those delectable heights closes his eyes in ecstasy, this closing of his eyes in no symbol of religion and yet, in a sense, it is. So should be with us Sikhs the wearing of His knot, His beard, His shape and His obedience. Our form and shape of the Guru will radiate with His inspired and extraordinary humanity. Lacking that one thing, all shall be lacking. Without that spirit within us both life and death are devoid of meaning and truth.

It is I, TheCodeNinja, here with another deck tech based off the HarperPrism books from the 90's. Today I'll be talking about the different cards that appear in the Greensleeves trilogy of books (Whispering Woods / Shattered Chains / Final Sacrifice), which center on [[Greensleeves, Maro-Sorcerer]] and her brother, General Gull the Woodcutter coming soon in MH3. I feel it goes without saying, but spoilers for the 30 year old books.
Ed Note: This was originally posted on /magicTCG a couple of months ago but didn't get much attention, so I am reposting it here with mod permission. I've added a couple of things noted by Lvl9LightSpell in the original post.
The previous post I did was for [[Garth One-Eye]], the protagonist of Arena. However, that post is really just a list of cards I recognized from the book rather than a proper deck tech (something I may remedy in the future, Garth deserves better). While Garth was printed as a card a few years before Greensleeves, Greenie getting a card is what made me want to re-read those old books and build a lore friendly version. I had fonder memories of the Greensleeves books (there's a [[Fungusaur]]!), so I decided to do a proper deck tech for her. This is also only the cards that would go into a Greensleeves deck, there are a ton of other card references that I may do a post or two about in the future.
That said, the Garth deck was significantly easier for two reasons:
1) Garth is 5c, and I'm a filthy commander player who wants to keep to color identity if possible (despite some cards in the list being banned in the format).
2) Arena was focused on a... magic tournament, with a very excited and vocal [[Angry Mob]], who would shout out the card names being cast. Wizard summons a giant demon, someone in the crowd yells "HolY sh!T it's a [[Lord of the Pit]]!" This meant I could usually count on the book telling me what the card was, but that also turned my brain off for anything not explicitly mentioned ("Garth never cast half the spells from his card; there wasn't a [[Lotus]] that I remember, no [[Regrowth]], [[Braingeyser]], or [[Shivan Dragon]]. Just that unnamed green dragon I have noted down and the way his mind expanded after sparking wait").
With three books of material, there is a lot to work with, so sticking to mono-green is pretty easy (even though in the book, Greensleeves herself casts some non-green spells). I was able to point to specific cards that were available at the time that the series was printed* without stretching too much, and have only three cards (plus one that may as well be) on the Reserved List. As these books were all released in the time between Fallen Empires and Ice Age, and the trilogy's story was likely outlined between Legends and The Dark, there are a lot of bad old cards here.
(*There is one card in the list that was printed a year and change after the last book in the trilogy, but it is a perfect stand-in for a significant MacGuffin.)
With the intro out of the way, let's hop intooo the cards.
First, let's go into creatures and start with named characters who are represented with creatures, or are part of General Gull and Greensleeve's army to fight evil wizards.
Characters:

• [[Greensleeves, Maro-Sorcerer]] of course
• Chaney, a [[Ley Druid]] who was Greensleeves' mentor for learning magic.
• [[Gaea's Liege]] ("The Liege of Gaea") is described by Chaney to Greensleeves during their lessons after they see a man with antlers far off in the distance.
• Stiggur, a young kid who has been with them since the beginning, controls / rides atop a giant [[Clockwork Beast]].
• A Muronian [[Whirling Dervish]] who yells about the end being nigh.
• A [[Verduran Enchantress]] who is mentioned among a group of people joining the army.

Greensleeves grew up with the magic of the woods around her suppressing her mental acuity, but it allowed her to make friends with all manner of woodland creatures. While many of the names were not fully mentioned, I used any cards from the time that had the same type.
Woodland Creatures:

• [[Giant Badger]], which is her pet in the first book.
• She summons a [[Grizzly Bear]] in the first fight that she is consciously casting spells, but can't control it so it just attacks everyone.
• Great gray gorillas, probably [[Barbary Apes]]
• [[Fungusaur]] shows up early and she summons it again later in the book
• [[Durkwood Boars]], [[Ironroot Treefolk]], [[Wolverine Pack]] and [[Killer Bees]] are all described as friends from the forest.
• A group of [[Aisling Leprechauns]] help steal a Wizard's staff.
• [[Shanodin Dryads]] help to disrupt and spy on opposing armies.
• [[Timber Wolves]] specifically and wolves in general are mentioned multiple times, we could also include [[Wyluli Wolf]]**, and if we want to go really crazy there's [[Aspect of Wolf]].
• A wyrm was summoned from the forest, and I'll always take a reason to use [[Craw Wurm]]
• Snakes are mentioned a couple of times, which could be either [[Hornet Cobras]], [[Marsh Vipers]], or [[Naf's Asp]]**.
• Birds are generally mentioned, and we have [[Birds of Paradise]] and / or [[Whipporwill]]. Greensleeves also specifically has a pet chickadee.

**In real canon, both from Rabiah. The concept of planes (the book calls them Domains) is not fleshed out, and it could easily be read in the story that Arabian Nights takes place in a far off part of Dominaria. Summoning creatures or artifacts is referred to as "shifting", which has a few different levels that Greensleeves reaches through the books. Shifting objects (or people) you know to you, shifting objects you don't know to you, shifting yourself (and others) to places you know, and finally shifting to places you don't know. Shifting to other places includes to other planes (Greensleeves specifically travels to Phyrexia to get the MacGuffin back from [[Phyrexian Gremlins]] that were summoned by one of the wizards). TL;DR: wizards can summon creatures from and teleport to other planes in these books.
Other Creatures:
In addition to the wildlife, Greensleeves also befriends many groups of elves. [[Elvish Archers]] are specifically mentioned, and groups of non-archer elves would point to [[Llanowar Elves]]. When searching through some artifacts from Antiquities, she finds and later uses a [[Yotian Soldier]]. Greensleeves also summons a lot of walls to act as protection. Keeping to color-identity, she summons a [[Wall of Brambles]], a [[Wall of Ice]] and a [[Wall of Wood]]. Lastly, in the final battle against the evil wizards, she summons a [[Force of Nature]].
Moving past creatures, we get to the non-creature spells. These will mostly be things that are cast by Greensleeves, though there are also a couple of spells cast by the old druid Chaney, and artifacts that are found in the world.
Spells that are cast leading into or during combat:

• Greensleeves' pet badger grows to gargantuan size, but [[Giant Growth]] is the more logical reason.
• A [[Camouflage]] spell is cast on Gull's army to sneak into an enemy base.
• She manipulates the weather a lot, using both wind and cold for [[Hurricane]] and [[Ice Storm]] (essentially Reserved List) during a battle, [[Winter Blast]] to immobilize someone before they could fight back, a [[Sandstorm]] that rages against a whole army, a dark [[Desert Twister]] that banishes a creature summoned against her, and even a [[Tsunami]] to fight a whole army, though she was mostly unconscious at that point.
• An enemy wizard pulls out a dagger at one point, and she causes it to quickly [[Rust]] and then [[Crumble]] into dust.
• She summons [[Foxfire]] to distract someone, but Foxfire was not printed until three months after the book so I am not counting it.

Spells that are more protective / healing:

• Chaney casts [[Regeneration]] on Gull to remove a lifelong limp.
• Greensleeves casts a protective [[Cocoon]] around some of her army that are exposed during her aggressive storms.
• Chaney dies and goes through a [[Reincarnation]], but has little care for anything in her previous life.
• Greensleeves casts a spell of [[Tranquility]], but the effect is to calm the battle rather than destroy all the enchantments.

Mana generating spells:

• Chaney teaches Greensleeves how to promote [[Wild Growth]] in the forest so it will produce more mana, as well as [[Untamed Wilds]] to expand the size of the forest.
• Greensleeves uses her own life to [[Channel]] (banned in Commander) mana to teleport away from lands that were barren of mana.

Artifacts:

• Greensleeves is almost sacrificed by the main antagonist wizard Towser at the foot of a [[Basalt Monolith]].
• Tybalt (not to be confused with [[Tibalt, the Fiend Blooded]]) shows off a pile of different artifacts they've confiscated from wizards, including an [[Armageddon Clock]], a [[Wooden Sphere]], and a [[Coral Helm]]. He excitedly showed off a [[Serpent Generator]], but the crowd was not pleased with the poisonous snakes.
• Haakon, King of the Badlands (not to be confused with [[Haakon, Stromgald Scourge]]) has the [[Mightstone]] (Reserved List #1), which is then taken by Greensleeves after defeating him. This never comes up again.
• Chaney gives Greensleeves a [[Nova Pentacle]] (Reserved List #2) and Lily, a white mage with barely any magical power who trained with Greensleeves (and later married to Gull), a [[Dingus Egg]]. The Nova Pentacle protects Greensleeves against certain magic, and is later stolen by the other wizards and copies are made to protect against Greensleeves' summoning.
• Not an artifact, but Gull, Greensleeves, and the main circle of people come across a mural that includes a painting of [[Storm Seeker]] (among multicolor legends [[Marhault Elsdragon]], [[Lady Evangela]], and [[Jacques le Vert]]).

Finally, there's that MacGuffin that I mentioned earlier. This falls out of the sky early in the series, and Towser calls it a [[Mana Vault]]. Later, after the army is attacked by a different wizard, it transforms to reveal that it is a [[Living Artifact]] with the green skin and tentacles, and it never stops talking. Finally, it transforms into a helmet that looks like a brain. When the helmet is put on a head of a wizard, a hundred voices shout in their head to not use magic until they go insane. The Helm of Submission was crafted by the [[Sages of Lat-nam]], with the goal of putting it on both Urza and Mishra to stop them from using magic and ending the war. Greensleeves and Gull put it onto any wizards that they defeat, in an effort to keep them from using magic again in the future. Because of the significance, I'm adding a [[Helm of Obedience]] (Reserved List #3 and cost equal to the rest of the deck combined) as a flavorful stand in, despite it being printed a year after these books. It's worth noting here that [[The Stone Brain]] from The Brothers' War is very likely a direct reference to the Helm of Submission. This is also another card from these books only available in modern border (dammit WotC).
Okay, so we've gone through every spell cast by Greensleeves (and a few by Chaney), added every creature she was mentioned summoning or befriending, and we're a bit more than halfway to 100 cards for this commander deck. We could just dump in 43 Forests and call it a day, but instead let's get into the things that are increasing levels of reaching for excuses to fit more spells.

• Gull uses a lot of card names as curses through his chapters ("[[Bells of Kormus]]" he grumbled), but this isn't a Gull deck. Greensleeves only curses with a card name once, "By [[Pendelhaven]]'s Peaks!", which is the only green color-identity land that existed in print outside of Sarpadia at the time mentioned.
• Greensleeves tries on an amulet, and when Gull grabs her wrist, it knocks him back with a blast of lightning, which made me think of the art for [[Avoid Fate]].
• When Chaney dies, she breathes her last bit of mana into Greensleeves. This effect is similar to [[Metamorphosis]], though we already have this represented with Reincarnation.
• At the end of the trilogy, Greensleeves pulls a large amount of mana. She starts to sing a song (perhaps [[Titania's Song]]) while she goes on a rampage against the evil wizards.
• She OldWalker sparks after wrecking everyone, but then gives up the spark for love and friendship, and uses all of the mana she is holding to grow a forest in what was previously a desolate wasteland, so we could say she has [[Gaea's Touch]].
• She summons the groundwater to the surface to help the forest grow, which could be called a [[Stream of Life]].
• When she does that, she summons all the animals, ie: "birds, hares, hedgehogs, hinds, badgers, squirrels, bears, snakes, tapirs, owls, spiders and insects" to have a healthy ecosystem. Unlikely to be a [[Giant Spider]], but that's the only creature in color typed from that list that isn't in the deck already (except [[Clockwork Avian]] which was summoned by the antagonists).
• [[Deadfall]] was printed in Legends and has an owl in the art, and mono-green is vulnerable to Forestwalk (though it turns off our [[Shanodin Dryads]]).
• With all the creatures coming back to the forest, it could be a [[Concordant Crossroads]].
• Gull's army include some [[People of the Woods]].
• There is also a group of [[Pradesh Gypsies]] in the army who act as scouts. Note that this is one of the 7 cards you can never play on the radio in your deck.
• Most wizards have some kind of grimoire to remember their spells. Greensleeves has a shawl with items sewn into it (like a mushroom to summon the Fungusaur) instead of a book, but it serves the same purpose as a [[Jayemdae Tome]] or [[Jalum Tome]] would other wizards.
• There is a [[Cyclone]] that is in the sky blocking their path for a time, but it's cast by a different wizard, Karli of the Singing Moon (from what we now call Rabiah).
• To get to Phyrexia, she had to shift to a lot of different random places before she found the right one, so we could say she needed [[Natural Selection]] (Reserved List dumb priced) so I can justify my spending to myself.
• In Chaney's lessons, she tells Greensleeves of the history of Urza and Mishra and [[Amulets of Kroog]] and [[Onulets]] and [[Ivory Towers]]. Yes it's written as a list of card names.

Didn't you say something about Greensleeves casting non-green spells?
While primarily a green mage, she's does cast a few spells from other colors:

• When she cast a Hurricane in battle, it brought an [[Air Elemental]] along with it. [[Lightning Bolt]]s were prevalent when casting other weather spells as well.
• She summoned a wyvern, which based on the description and card pool was likely an [[Azure Drake]].
• When learning about the [[Sages of Lat-nam]], her best living teacher is the [[Lord of Atlantis]].
• In battle she summons a number of different walls for, either to protect her army or aggressively against other wizards: [[Wall of Water]], [[Wall of Earth]], [[Wall of Fire]], [[Wall of Stone]] and [[Wall of Light]].
• She casts [[Juxtapose]] to swap someone attacking her with a tree from half a mile away.
• Finally, the mana that makes her spark was drawn from countering Towser's massive [[Fireball]] spell with [[Mana Drain]].

Nothing hugely noteworthy (the [[Mana Drain]] was cool), but I'd be remiss to not mention them.
So this deck list, it looks, kind of... not good. And really expensive, but only because the cards are old, not that they're good. I mean, [[Ice Storm]] is a $50 [[Stone Rain]] and [[Natural Selection]] is $90 for a faster [[Portent]] that also sucks. Who in their right--
Okayokayokay. Yes, since it's from the early days of the game it had a very... lacking card pool to pull from. Based on the quick turnaround (three books released in six months, November 1994-May 1995), even though the books came out between Fallen Empires and Ice Age, I imagine they were planned out between Legends and The Dark which has 804 total cards (and only 253 playable in mono-green color identity) that could be pulled from. However, at the present time, our card pool is much bigger. Just sticking to old border cards (as Greensleeves is a character from the 90's) we have almost 8.5x as many cards to work with. If we include all borders, it's more than 33x as many.
So, let's talk the big cost changes:

• $70 [[Ice Storm]] is three mana land destruction that's got a cold theme, and can be replaced with $0.25 [[Winter's Grasp]].
• $50 [[Helm of Obedience]] can be replaced with $5 [[Helm of Possession]] (and Greensleeves is a token generator for sac fodder).
• $35 [[Nova Pentacle]] is the only Pentacle in all of MtG, but there is $0.25 [[Pentagram of the Ages]] (also the only Pentagram).

Great, now the deck is like $100 including a [[Mana Vault]] and a $10 commander, but it's also even worse.
Yeah, that's one unfortunate thing about old creatures, and a lot of these old cards in general, there are a lot of vanilla or just plain useless cards. So let's go with a broader card pool. Sticking with the old flavor, we're going to have every card be old border (except Greensleeves herself, dammit WotC). If we just use cards legal in Premodern and Old School, the pool is 1,571 cards, and if we expand that to all old border cards that increases to 1,840. We can change a lot.
So here is a list of the remaining cards that are specifically referenced with regard to Greensleeves (creatures summoned / spells cast / interacted with), with a couple edits:
Creatures:

• [[Aisling Leprechaun]] (the only leprechaun in Magic, a group of them steal a wizard's staff)
• [[Force of Nature]] (summoned for battle)
• [[Fungusaur]] (summoned for battle)
• [[Gaea's Liege]] (seen during lessons with Chaney)
• [[Giant Badger]] (she carries it around as a pet / friend from book 1, until it dies of old age later)
• [[Walls of Wood]] / Brambles / Ice (summoned for battle)
• [[Yotian Soldier]] (found in a pile of artifacts, then later used for battle)

Non-Creatures:

• [[Basalt Monolith]] (Towser tries to sacrifice her in front of this)
• Channel (cast to shift away from an area where the lands have all been depleted of mana)
• [[Desert Twister]] (cast to banish a creature)
• Camouflage [[Familiar Ground]] (cast during battle)
• [[Giant Growth]] (makes her badger grow giant)
• [[Hurricane]] (cast during battle)
• [[Mana Vault]] (The MacGuffin part 1)
• [[Living Artifact]] (The MacGuffin part 2)
• Helm of Obedience [[Helm of Possession]] (The MacGuffin part 3)
• Tranquility [[Moment's Peace]] (cast during battle to stop fighting)
• Nova Pentacle [[Pentagram of the Ages]] (given by Chaney to protect her from being summoned)
• [[Sandstorm]] (cast during battle)
• [[Storm Seeker]] (found on a mural in some ruins they camped in)
• [[Tsunami]] (cast during battle)
• [[Winter Blast]] (cast to subdue the wizard whose wand was stolen by the leprechauns).
• Ice Storm [[Winter's Grasp]] (cast during battle)

In addition to our Reserved List replacements, we have a few more edits: [[Channel]] is banned in Commander so it's cut. [[Moment's Peace]] is much more mechanically and flavorfully fitting the scene it was cast in than literal [[Tranquility]], and is an easy replacement. Lastly, I decided to replace [[Camouflage]] with [[Familiar Ground]], so we still have an effect to disrupt blockers, but its oracle text doesn't make me go crosseyed.
Let's start with upgrading creatures, and we'll start with a character, Chaney. Chaney is a Human Druid who trains Greensleeves magic that keeps natural balance in mind. [[Citanul Hierophants]] teaches other creatures to generate mana, so let's use this. Now let's look for a card for her brother, General Gull the Woodcutter. The two green Human creatures in old border that seemed to fit the best were [[Tracker]] and [[Meng Huo, Barbarian King]], one on the Reserved List and the other from Portal: Three Kingdoms, so instead I'm going to use a creature who doesn't fit as well, [[Kamahl, Fist of Krosa]]. While Gull hates magic and thus isn't a druid, him leading his army into battle could translate into Kamahl's [[Overrun]] ability.
While there are a couple of times where the books specify that she summoned a [[Grizzly Bear]], or a pack of [[Timber Wolves]], the books more commonly uses things generically. She befriends some bears, she summons a wolf, she teams up with some elves. There are a lot of different old border elves you could go with here. You could take this thinking a bit further and use [[Titania's Chosen]] over [[Elvish Archers]] because it's an Elf Archer. The end result is a lot of freedom for what creatures go in the deck.
Here is the list of creature types that are mentioned in a generic manner, in addition to the creatures specified above: Badgers, bears, bees, Battlestar Galactica birds, boars, deer, elves, elvish archers, gorillas (apes), insects, snakes, spiders, squirrels, treefolk, wolves, wolverines, and wurms.
Here is the full list of creatures that I went with. Sticking with the old border means there isn't anything super impressive here (but still way more options than through Legends).

• [[Greensleeves, Maro-Sorcerer]]
• [[Aisling Leprechaun]]
• [[Ancient Silverback]]
• [[Birds of Paradise]]
• [[Citanual Hierophants]]
• [[Deadwood Treefolk]]
• [[Dirtcowl Wurm]]
• [[Force of Nature]]
• [[Fungusaur]]
• [[Gaea's Liege]]
• [[Giant Badger]]
• [[Giant Warthog]]
• [[Kamahl, Fist of Krosa]]
• [[Killer Bees]]
• [[Rabid Wolverines]]
• [[Reclamation Sage]]
• [[Sabertooth Cobra]]
• [[Silklash Spider]]
• [[Stag Beetle]]
• [[Titania's Chosen]]
• [[Wall of Blossoms]]
• [[Wall of Brambles]]
• [[Wall of Wood]]
• [[Werebear]]
• [[Wood Elves]]
• [[Wyluli Wolf]]
• [[Yotian Soldier]]

[[Burnished Hart]] could also fit here (it's an artificial woodland creature and it brings in lands), though being from Theros it sacrifices a bit of flavor for synergy.
With creatures out of the way, let's get over to non-creature spells, and start with ramp. In the books, Greensleeves has two different methods: Making the forest produce more mana, and expanding the forest beyond its current barriers. Considering Greensleeves herself has a landfall ability, we're going to drop the higher mana production (such as [[Wild Growth]]) for more land ramp.
This is all of the old border spells that pull a Forest or basic from library to the battlefield (skipping Reserved List [[Thawing Glaciers]] and P3K cards [[Three Visits]] / [[Spoils of Victory]]):

• [[Crop Rotation]]
• [[Deep Reconnaissance]]
• [[Explosive Vegetation]]
• [[Far Wanderings]]
• [[Harrow]]
• [[Nature's Lore]]
• [[Primal Growth]]
• [[Rampant Growth]]
• [[Skyshroud Claim]]
• [[Untamed Wilds]]

[[Wayfarer's Bauble]] is originally from Mirrodin, see: flavor vs synergy ala Burnished Hart.
We're also going to take [[Gaea's Touch]] and [[Concordant Crossroads]] from our list of stretches. [[Gaea's Touch]] fits very well with our landfall theme, and especially synergizes with running a lot of basic Forests. [[Concordant Crossroads]] is great because it gives creatures haste, and it's fun for the whole table!
Alright, we've got our creatures, we've got our ramp and non-creatures, we just need-- hang on. We're lacking much in the way of making the deck function. Sure we run all the ramp, but then what? We've got some slots before getting to land, so let's try and fill in some gaps.
Green is very lacking for card draw options in old border, so this is our biggest hurdle, but we have some options. Greater Good doesn't synergize with the deck very well (most creatures are <= 3 power), but we've got [[Sylvan Library]] which is consistent card draw (or at least selection). [[Guardian Project]] was just printed in old border in RVR, and does better than most other things. [[Rowen]] is an option with the number of basics we run, [[Arch of Orazca]] is "[[Library of Alexandria]] at burned-down home", and [[Horn of Greed]] synergizes with our 'lands to battlefield' ramp package though it helps everyone. We're also going to add [[Overrun]] for redundancy of [[Kamahl]] to help close out the game with our army.
Lastly, we just need lands. We can add [[Pendelhaven]] from the one time Greenie cursed, and to take full advantage of the landfall ability, we can also include fetch lands. On the cheaper end there is [[Blighted Woodland]], [[Evolving Wilds]], [[Myriad Landscape]], [[Terramorphic Expanse]] and [[Fabled Passage]] to fetch out any basic, while [[Grasslands]] and [[Mountain Valley]] can fetch up Forests. On the expensive side, we can add [[Prismatic Vista]], [[Misty Rainforest]], [[Verdant Catacombs]], [[Windswept Heath]] and [[Wooded Foothills]]. I just grabbed the fetches that I already own, then added Forests until I hit 41 lands (including [[Arch of Orazca]]).
And there you have it! Greensleeves built both to the letter of the book, and to the spirit of her character in the book in old border.
Great, so now the deck is just bad instead of god awful. Also, Greensleeves herself is in the modern frame, and I don't care about the original frame because I'm not 40.
Now listen hear you little sh Okay, let's boil it all the way down:

• The only cards that are lore required are [[Giant Badger]] because it was printed specifically to tie in with Whispering Woods, and [[Fungusaur]] because it's on the cover of the book.
• There are seventeen generic types mentioned to choose other creatures from, just avoid any Wizards (kinda obvious from her rules text).
• Greensleeves casts land ramp spells in the books, so any amount of those are good.
• [[Gaea's Touch]] is a really good card that no one knows about because it's a common printed once in 1994.
• [[Mana Vault]] is a flavor win.

TL;DR:
Greensleeves, to the letter of the book: https://aetherhub.com/Deck/greensleeves-lore-accurate-to-letter
Greensleeves, to the spirit of the book in old border: https://aetherhub.com/Deck/greensleeves-lore-friendly--old-border

1. What’s one thing we can all agree on? It’s on how we need to stop moral rot. We need a President who knows, for instance, that the United States Constitution was a divinely-inspired document, a moral President who can restore common sense, good faith values to America.
2. We need to get the best use out of Kirk that we can - alert our allies, of course, but let’s announce him with some of the more conservative folks in attendance. Really emphasize his conservative leanings, paint him as an olive branch to ‘em.
3. Alright, it’s about time we really stabbed at the root of the issue, Goldwater. Get on a plane to Phoenix, arrange for a meeting, and we’ll talk for god knows how long, at least till we put our issues behind us.
4. I think this shows just how much 8 years of total Democratic control of government has left them bitter and exhausted, intellectually and politically. It’s time to turn a new page, and move on from the chaos of the Johnson Administration.
5. Let’s loop in Nixon, Kissinger, and Rockefeller - we’ve got to put out a statement that makes sense, and, most importantly, is one framed around the general consensus as it stands.
6. Well, my position is obvious, isn’t it? I say we go full speed ahead on integration, to finally lay to rest the vice of segregation. To boot, segregation in housing has still gone largely untouched by the Johnson Administration, and I plan to remedy that.
7. Kirk is more tuned into Southern Politics, right? Some of this language, albeit toned down, would play pretty good down there. Get some folks to keep him in line, ‘course, but let’s let him play ball down South.
8. Alright, these gains are starting to worry me - Hall says not to worry, but we’ve got to up the ante. Let’s target key states that we have to win. I’m talking about the big industrial states, the core of our coalition. Get our staffers from Michigan on that front.
9. Of course I do. Look, it all comes back to moral decay. Juvenile crime is soaring, the divorce rate is the highest it's ever been, we have some abortion pill around, and two wonderful public figures have been assassinated in this decade alone - we’ve got to put a stop to these things.
10. Let’s do it, absolutely. I preached in front of the hostile masses of Glasgow, netting more than a few converts - I reckon I can do so on the national level, regardless of what Hall is rambling on about.
11. There’s a point there - I hesitate, naturally, to criticize my church, but they’re simply in the wrong here. It’s morally, and theologically, wrong to discriminate in the Priesthood based on race.
12. So, what you see in modern politics is a growing domination of the Democratic Party by Big Labor, and the domination of the Republican Party by Big Business. We’ve got to reverse this worrying trend, if we want to ensure our children and grandchildren have a functional democracy.
13. Walter DeVries has come up with the most exquisite solution - using computers to compile a mailing list, from which we can solicit funds. It's great, really, and with it, we can dominate the airwaves in the midwest.
14. Ron? Heavens no. Let’s touch bases with Dick though, see if he may want State. We’d love to have someone with his policy experience on the ticket.
15. Let’s just recommit on Viet-Nam, then. Put out a statement reiterating our support for a permanent bombing halt, speedy negotiations, and a withdrawal from the Vietnamese quagmire.
16. We can hit on it a little, especially in those states actually undergoing a process to reform their respective constitutions right now - Couldn’t hurt, no?
17. That’s true, actually. Goldwater was a terrible candidate in ‘64, and I’m all too glad that he’s no longer a serious force in national politics. His extremism was just too much to bear. I’m good friends with him though, of course.
18. Let’s hit on the Johnson connection, non-stop. We’ve got to hammer on the fact that the two are one and the same, and that Humphrey’ll continue to pursue these unsound economic policies that will ultimately bury us in inflation and debt.
19. The deficit, it’s the deficit. Notice how inflation rears its ugly head whenever Democrats pursue their big-spending dreams without a care in the world - It isn’t a coincidence. We need to balance our budget, even if that means raising taxes, or cutting programs.
20. I think they have some points that are very true, y’know, but they can’t be going about making it in this violent and riotous manner.
21. What can I say? He feels his religion prevents him from participating in the conflict, and I can’t help but agree with him. There’s nothing more to it, really.
22. While Humphrey sweeps these folks up, let’s jab at him from the left. A Romney Administration will go much further for civil rights than a hypothetical Humphrey one’ll ever do, and I’ve got a record to back that up.
23. It’s time we’ve had sound fiscal management in this nation again. If you want a soundly run federal government, inflation to go down, and for the end of the shift of power to D.C., then you know who to pull the lever for.
24. We just got off the phone with John Marriott, and he says things aren’t so good in the Pacific - we’re gonna need California, in all likelihood, to win, so let’s sew it up.

Visit Delaware two times and Pennsylvania for the rest of the election.

Originally published at joinmeatthecampfire on June 4, 2023.
Hey all, it’s me Frank Jones again. I wrote that post a while ago about why you shouldn’t be a paranormal investigator and a lot of you liked it. Since settling into my hideaway in the mountains, life has become quiet and I thought about checking in. The plague hit us like nothing and now that everyone is wanting to travel again, I thought to say hi. I want to say thanks to all of you who commented and gave me those weird pointy thingies this social media does. Some of you even figured out my post office box address and sent me letters. I appreciate it (and don’t do it again). The common strain among your posts was wanting to know if I had ever encountered other things as an auditor. Of course I have but I have been reluctant to tell you because I don’t want to shine some sort of light on all of it or make it sound like some romantic adventure. It’s “pissing yourself” fear all wrapped up in a waking nightmare with a side of gory terror. I am one of the few who actually made it to retirement…if that’s what you could call this life I’m living now. But, I have nothing else to do really. Carl only visits once in a while when he’s passing through and I cannot risk any other sort of company knowing I’ve pissed off a lot of people…and things. So, I’m back on this internet board and sharing. So many are curious, I thought maybe another story can scare you all straight. This was the first time complacency almost got me and another killed. This story takes place somewhere in the 90s in a small New England town. It was one of those places nestled along the banks of a serene river, historic brick buildings line the winding streets, their facades adorned with weathered signs that hint at the town's seafaring heritage. A place where everything smelled like either the ocean or decaying fish. I’m not going to specifically name the town to protect the young lady that may still be living there but in the heart of the town, there’s a renowned drawbridge which stands as a testament to the place’s affinity for water. Its ancient mechanisms creak and groan when allowing vessels to pass through the calm waterway. It also had some of the best outdoor markets I had a chance to stop and check out. I didn’t pass through this part of the country that often as my boss preferred me to do the long hauls across the country but there was a dead haul nobody wanted.I took it cause I wanted a change of scenery. I was already working as an auditor and part of a loose alliance of others who investigated and dealt with any weird things. I actually had a few monsters under my belt. I honestly had the foolhardy idea that I could handle anything out there. God, I was an idiot. The supernatural never crossed my mind until that evening, stopping to fuel up my red 1992 Peterbilt 379 and paying for the gas with the attendant and restocking up on those beef jerky sticks and coffee. That was when I noticed her. She was a young woman about in her mid 30s looking like one of the corporate types with the short hair cut and business suit. I would have not paid her any mind if it wasn’t for the touch of apprehension on her face as she talked on one of those new fangled bright yellow Nokia cellphones. Soft strands of chestnut hair framed her face, their gentle sway moving as she glanced around while talking on the phone. As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice the way her fingers trembled slightly, when trying to get money out of her pocket. I’ve seen that type of fear before. So, like a creep, I eavesdropped on her call. “Yes, it happened again,” she had said as the nickels finally made it to the counter to pay for her snacks. “I could have sworn there was something outside the window near the edge of the forest….no, of course the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. They’re cheap. Ronald was a skinflint when it came to things like this. Hope he’s rotting in hell wherever he is.” My mind began to drift away, more annoyed I couldn’t get a move on it. It sounded like a problem for the police and if anything, I was gonna tell her that. It was what she said next that made me stop and brought back the reality of the world. “Yeah. like nine or ten feet tall. I’m thinking kids are playing around with scarecrows or something. Won’t come from the edge of the forest and when I check, I can see foot impressions and stuff. I already put in a call to the cops. They found nothing.“ “Did it sway a bit and its eyes seem to glint like a cats or owl?” I asked without thinking. The look I got from both her and the gas attendant made me realize what I had done. Well, too late now. “I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, eyeing me as she hung up the phone and slipped it back into her purse. “You need me to walk you to your car, ma’am?” the attendant asked, staring at me. Of course, I forgot that The Truck Stop Killer had only been arrested a few years before. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, quickly gathering her stuff and making for the door. I slapped the one hundred and seventy bucks on the counter to pay for my diesel guzzler ignoring the change and followed her out but making sure to not move in a way that caused the teenager in the station to call the cops. “Ma’am,” I called out to her and she turned to me while hurrying up her pace. “I’ve got pepper spray. Stay away from me.” “The thing in the woods. You could have sworn you smelled fresh dirt like mulch and it seemed to sway back and forth like it could not keep its balance.” I threw it out there in desperation. She froze and turned to look at me. Eying me up and down as I kept my distance and angled to head towards my truck. “How do you know?” “I…uh…dealt with something like that before. On a job in Canada.” “Who are you?” she asked, looking at my faded shirt and company logo. “A trucker?” “I moonlight as a problem solver. Like an auditor of sorts.” “Who is it?” she demanded, eyes still affixed to me and hand in her purse. “Better question is ‘what is it?’,” I answered. I have learned to pick up on the contempt and disbelief from people who hadn’t seen what I have. I was already being dismissed as a whack job. “You have tracks on your porch you have written off as animals, especially if you own a dog. If you did own a dog, it’s missing. Cops told you it ran away. You got a garden?” “Yes,” the certainty had started to leave her voice. “A walled garden.” “And anytime you’re in there, you feel like you’re being watched.” At that, her hand came out of her purse empty and she approached me with the fear I had seen in her eyes now on her face. “How did you know?” “I’d rather not explain out here,” I said sheepishly running my hand through my sandy brown hair that only started getting flecks of gray. “But you got a…pest problem.” “And you can do something about it? I’ve had exterminators, cops, nature lovers…even a priest.” “None of those won’t do you any good and I don’t want to scare ya but it’s more active which is not a good sign.” For a few moments, I could see the indecision in her eyes. The desperate want to dismiss me as a lunatic but whatever she had heard or seen won over. “Fine. You can follow me to the house.” “Mind if I hitch a ride?” The woman started but then looked at my truck. “Promise. I mean you no harm. I really think you’re in danger.” That was when I found her name was Isabelle Walker. We left my truck in long-term parking after she told the attendant that I was a long lost relative and that’s why the change of demeanor. I don’t know if he believed her but at that point, I don’t think he cared. I left my truck with its metallic frame standing tall and proud amidst the rows of other vehicles. I did not realize how desperate this woman was until we got going on the road. I had loaded myself in the passenger seat after pulling out my military backpack from the war which I also used for my auditing services and tried to look as harmless as a man of my stature could. For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, her focus was on the lonely road, those beautiful eyes darting to me anytime I shifted my weight. I didn’t want to scare her so it was her that spoke first. “What is it?” “I really don’t know but the people in my profession call it a Bone Walker.” The nose crinkled in disbelief. “Halloween is not for a few more months, Mister…” “Jones. Frank Jones.” The James Bond reference caused her to snort in amusement. “I don’t know what to tell ya, ma’am, except I’ve dealt with some pretty scary things out there. Normally I’m never this forward as most people try to call the cops on me or dismiss me as a lunatic. I mean, I could be a lunatic but I know what I’ve seen.” “And that is…?” “You know. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. They’re real. They’re not common but real nevertheless.” “Really?” There was still the disbelief in Isabelle’s voice but I grew to ignore things like this. “Sure. I mean, think of all the things you experienced and be open to alternate answers.” Isabelle was quiet for a few minutes and then sighed. “Either you are telling the truth or you're the biggest liar and I’m a fool that’s not going to live through this night.” “I promise,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” After a few more minutes and off the main highway, we approached her home. The large house stood resolute amidst the dense, ancient forest, its weathered exterior a testament to the passing of time. It was a grand structure, its imposing presence commanding attention. The sprawling estate exuded an air of mystery and faded grandeur, as if it held stories whispered through generations. As we pulled in, the main house loomed before me, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and worn stone. Ivy crept along the walls, weaving an emerald tapestry that hinted at the passage of years. The windows, framed by elegant yet slightly cracked panes, stared out into the world with a mixture of curiosity and melancholy. To the side, a large shed stood detached from the main house, its weathered boards echoing tales of forgotten tools and lost endeavors. The wooden structure sagged under the weight of time, its roof covered in a patchwork quilt of moss. Inside, shadows danced amidst remnants of a bygone era, rusty equipment and dusty shelves attesting to the once-bustling activity that had long since ceased. Not far from the shed, a family cemetery nestled amongst the ancient trees. Tombstones, adorned with intricate carvings and weathered inscriptions, dotted the landscape. The hallowed ground exuded a solemn tranquility, as if time stood still in reverence for those who rested eternally in its embrace. Wisps of fog clung to the grassy knolls, lending an ethereal quality to the sacred space. At the far end of the property, an old walled garden stood as a testament to the house's former splendor. Once vibrant and lush, the garden now appeared overgrown and untamed. Stone paths meandered through a sea of tangled foliage, leading to hidden nooks and forgotten corners. Dilapidated stone benches, adorned with intricate carvings, sat scattered throughout the garden, silent witnesses to a time when laughter and conversation filled the air. As I stood amidst the silence of the forest, the house, shed, cemetery, and walled garden formed a tapestry of history and mystery. They were a testament to the ebb and flow of life, the remnants of a bygone era that clung to the present. Within their weathered walls, secrets whispered and memories danced, waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into their enigmatic embrace. “Great place to be haunted, huh?” she said with sarcasm. “My ex left it to me in the divorce. Was only going to be here long enough to sell it but no one wants it and my job wants me to move to this state anyway.” “Where are you originally from?” “California.” “So, this is definitely a change of scenery for you,” Isabelle only hummed back at me as she fumbled for her keys in the dying light of evening. I pulled my backpack closer to me as my eyes scanned the treeline where the shadows had begun to deepen. Nothing stood out against the silhouettes of ancient trees which was a good sign. I wasn’t too late. Stepping through the weathered front door, I entered the interior of the old house, greeted by a mix of nostalgia and faded elegance. The air carried a hint of mustiness, a reminder of the countless years the house had to have witnessed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, I could make out the clash between old decor and the modern furniture Isabelle had bought. The foyer, adorned with a worn, threadbare rug. The walls, once adorned with portraits and intricate wallpaper, now bore the markings of time's passage. The wooden banister of the grand staircase, polished with use, creaked softly under my touch as we made our way towards the living room. Moving further into the house, I found myself in a spacious living room. Large, ornate windows which would have allowed slivers of daylight to filter through the heavy velvet curtains. The walls were adorned with faded wallpaper. An aged fireplace, its stone mantle adorned with trinkets and old photographs, served as the heart of the room. “You want some coffee?” Isabelle asked, throwing her keys on to the coffee table. I sat down on her couch and dropped my backpack on it with a clunk. “Sure.” “Sugar?” “A lot.” The kitchen light clicked on and I heard her moving about setting up the coffee pot. The Adrenalin was now pumping through me as my mind raced. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail on what a Bone Walker is but it’s a creature that usually haunts the western coast. It being so far out east was strange. I pulled out my old gun bag and unrolled it. My Stevens Model 520-30 “Trench” shotgun was the first thing I reached for as I popped open the internal pouch holding he high flash shells I was glad I packed. It was the startled sound from Isabelle that made me quickly look up. She stood there with my coffee, eyes locked on the shotgun in my hand. I slowly held up one of the cartridges I was planning to load. “Flash powder shotgun shells. No load. Just makes a loud noise and a bright white light. What we’re facing lives in the shadows and hates light…normally,” I had heard stories that they could strike in the day but it was extremely rare. She didn’t need to know that. “Oh,” was her quiet response. “Do…do I need a gun?” “You know how to use one?” “No.” “Then it’ll do more harm than good. You got any flashlights?” Isabelle nodded mutely, the gravity of the situation sinking in at the array of weapons and items in my pack laid out in front of her. “Go get them.” While she was gone, I quickly unloaded the silver bullets out of my Makarov pistol (a gift from a Viet Cong officer and a story for another time) and placed normal 9mm rounds in the clip. I had it holstered under my jacket with the two back up clips when she returned with three cheap flashlights. “One in your hand and one in your pocket.” “Why?” “In case you drop the one you are holding.” The woman obeyed silently. As night fell quickly around us, I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and with Isabelle close, we made our way upstairs. There were tell tale signs I needed to check as the only advantage I had over this thing was the fact it stuck to a pattern. If it was at the stage I thought it was, there would be signs. “Which room is yours?” I asked. Isabelle pointed to a door down the hallway across from a large window. Approaching it, I quickly shined my flashlight at the mahogany door frame. It was the glint that caught my eye. Deep gouges in the wood. “What’s that?” she asked. “Claw marks,” I responded. There was no use sugar coating anything now. “This thing was in my house?” Isabelle said horrified. “For the last few weeks now,” I said, my nose picking up the faint odor of dirt and mud. “Why didn’t it attack me then?” “It wasn’t time.” “What?” Talking was going to be the only thing to keep her focused. I had felt the world shift a bit as night fell and I needed her not to panic. “Bone Walkers are ritualistic creatures. They are very choosy over their prey. It can take a month or two before they move in. That’s why they are so hard to catch.” “Criteria? Like what?” “We don’t know.” That was the honest truth. The only reason we knew their existence and patterns was thanks to blind luck and people surviving their encounters. I showed my light around looking for other signs. Discolored stains in the corners where shadows would naturally form, healthy moss and mold that shouldn’t be there. I found a patch around her bed. She did not notice and I did not want to tell her that it probably stood over her through the night watching her sleep. The sooner I buried this thing, the better. “Frank!” There was a trill of terror in Isabelle’s voice and I immediately looked to where she was. The woman was standing by her bedroom window staring out at something. I quickly moved and spotted what she saw. In the forest, at the edge of the shadow cast by the moonlight was an almost, imperceptible form. It stood nine feet, hunched over like a broken scarecrow, its owl like eyes staring back at us. “Shit,” I muttered. Thank god we had turned on the lights as we went. It was the flash of light and the crack of thunder that heralded the arrival of the storm. The lights of this old houses flickered which caused my belly to flop a few times. My brain was on fire as I glanced back from the lightbulb to where the creature was and found it had vanished. “Where did it go?” I did not have time to explain as another crack of lightning caused the lights to dim. I grabbed Isabelle roughly by the arm and yanked her back down the hallway towards the living room where I had left my stuff. We barely made it to the living room when the lights dimmed low. I grasped the glow sticks out of the bag, cracked a handful and scattered them about, their bright yellow light beginning to glow. The power then went out bathing us only in the eerie glow of the emergency lighting. As we waited in breathless anticipation, the storm struck, its wrath manifesting in torrential rain. The mansion seemed to respond, succumbing to a power outage that plunged us into an abyss of blackness only moments before. A trill of terror coursed through me. I knew this Bone Walker thrived in darkness, using it as a cloak to conceal its malevolence. We auditors were not sure if it actually teleported or it preferred to move in pitch darkness. I just knew that the black was our biggest threat. For a few moments, we could only hear the ragged breathing of the two of us being drowned out by the pounding rain against shingle and glass. Isabelle had wound her hand into my jacket pocket and was gripping it tightly, I could feel her shaking with terror. I kept my shotgun gripped tightly in my hand listening for the tell tale sound of its arrival. It was the movement out of the corner of my eye and the fact her grip got tighter on my jacket. I swiftly turned on my high-powered flashlight as I spun around and the brilliant beam pierced the obscure corner of the room. No matter what I had read or seen before did not prepare me for what I saw. It stood there in the corner, its eight foot height engulfing that section of the house. My eyes strained as it appeared the thing was struggling to stay in focus. Its arms were too long for its body, spindly and almost to the floor while the legs appeared backwards giving it a strange forward leaning look. It wore a hunter’s long coat and trousers but through the rips and tears I could make out something squirming and moving underneath. The air filled with the stench of decaying plants and diseased vegetation. Its face was covered with what looked like the remnants of a cheap bandanna but its owl-like eyes gleaned back with malevolence. Isabelle whimpered, her fear palpable in the room and the Bone Walker lunged toward us. Even though my fear was ripping through me like an unstoppable train, I had the sense to pull the trigger of my shotgun aimed in its direction. The flash and resounding roar painted the entire room in a brilliant black and white shadow causing every corner and edge to appear thick and vivid. The creature screamed and fell to the side into the shadow not illuminated by the weapon’s fire. Isabelle had thrown herself on the couch and was huddled there, trembling with terror, while I moved quickly to crack a few more glow sticks and toss them into the dark corners of the room. In one, I saw its foot recoil back into the kitchen where it was darker than night itself. This was quicker than I had anticipated. The plans I had been formulating on the drive were no longer viable. I wanted to lure it to where I controlled the battlefield but that was not an option anymore. This had become a cat and mouse game and I knew this was with a predator I could not even hope to understand and had years to hone. Out of the kitchen again this thing charged forward, relentless in its pursuit, it was trying to find a way around my light barrier which only appeared to slow it down. With shaking hands, I fired several more rounds, each blast forcing the creature to retreat and the girl to scream in terror. As soon as it retreated to a dark part of the house, I turned to where the woman of the house had been. To my horror, Isabelle's fear had gotten the best of her. In that moment of panic, she darted from the safety of the light, towards the hallway and the door outside. “Isabelle! Stop!” I yelled trying to command her back with my voice but I doubted she heard me. Between the abject horror and the relentless rain, she was going to take her chance. A chance I knew she did not have. I only took a step when I sensed it. The musty smell of an organic landfill overwhelmed me as the form silently darted past me, its long arm clobbering me up the side of the head. The world spun as pain burst through my brain. I felt the world tilt and fall heavily to the ground, flashlight and shotgun falling away. As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I knew I was a sitting duck for this thing. There was no way for me to stop it from ripping me to shreds like some of the corpses I had seen. As I blinked, I came to my senses and realized I was alone. How long I had actually been on the ground, I did not know. I sat up, my head pounding and I could see the door hanging open, the wind slamming the door on its hinges and the rain soaking the hallway floor. Struggling, I found my flashlight and gun and pulled myself together. There was a slim chance that Isabelle was still alive. I had to think. Where would it go? I ran all the stories I could think of and then it hit me. The garden. The walled garden. I charged into the rain-soaked night. I sprinted toward the enclosed garden at the edge of the property. As I grew closer, I saw that the rusted door was open and hope flickered in my soul. As I came to a stop, I brought my flashlight up again with my shotgun and saw it. This creature stood there in the middle of the overgrown garden, its massive clawed hand wrapped around Isabelle’s chest and holding her up. Out from under its bandanna mask, putrid vines had appeared and led up to Isabelle’s face where they were forcing their way down her throat and up her nose. I could see the wide terror in her eyes as vines were snaking their way around her waist and I did not want to think about what they were planning to do. I brought up the shotgun again and fired. Knowing that I had distance, the flash of light caught the creature by surprise. It shrieked as it fell back. Trying desperately not to release its prey. I did not hesitate to grab the machete at my side and hack at its arm until Isabelle fell down free of it. It’s claw swiped at me striking me on the leg and easily tearing through my pants leaving bloody lacerations but I put the weapon point blank and fired another round. I do not know if it was the flash, the combination of the creature, or that the almighty above was looking out for me, but the creature caught ablaze from the spark. It fell back swinging wildly as the fire spread unnaturally fast catching the plants around it on fire. Within a matter of seconds, the walled garden had become ablaze with the bone walker in the center. As I ripped the vines out of Isabelle’s mouth and dragged her towards the door, I looked up to see those owl-like eyes looking at me with such abject hatred that the look stick with me today. I honestly don’t know how we survived. I had helped Isabelle to her porch and we both passed out against our will from the sheer terror and exhaustion. We were awoken by the sound of a siren. The lights had come back on sometime in our sleep and the rain had drifted off to a comforting drizzle. The fire was still raging in the garden but contained by the ancient walls. At least two fire trucks, an ambulance and cops were flying up the private road towards us. This entire hunt had been ill-planned and stupid. I knew it. As the cops approached with their hand on their pistols, I knew that I had allowed my own ego to get in the way. I should have taken Isabelle somewhere else until I had done a proper reconnaissance. I shouldn’t have taken her home where it was waiting. And now, the cops were looking at two thoroughly soaked humans, one a trucker with a wound and a gun and a young lady in distress. I was pretty sure I was going to go to jail. “Isabelle?” One of the cops and his voice caused her to sit up, relief washing over her. “Derek!” she wailed. “We were attacked! In the garden!” Another two cops that had arrived had taken off in that direction while Derek helped the girl up and took her towards the ambulance. The other cop with a comically large mustache looked at me with keen eyes, his hand still on his pistol, sergeant stripes glowing in the light. “Attacked?” “Yeah,” I said, sitting up slowly and keeping my hand away from the shotgun and trying not to show the one under my jacket. “Someone came after Mrs. Walker. They were in the garden.” The cop watched me closely but there seemed to be a recognition in his eyes. “You by any chance Frank Jones?” My heart jumped and I must have looked startled as the cop’s face broke into a smile. To my relief, his hand fell away from his holstered sidearm. “I’ll take that for a yes. My guess is you don’t remember me. Clay Wilson. Santa Fe PD, about six years ago. You helped my partner with a...problem. Nellie Nelson?” I knew the name but the face escaped me. “She told me you helped her audit a police union building.” “Ah, yes,” I said, remembering dealing with the wraith and the twinge in my right arm from it’s bite. The cop looked towards the fire that was slowly being put out by the fire fighters. “Any chance this will be one of your audits?” “Yeah.” He seemed to think for a few minutes and then nodded. “Then I think you need to grab that shotgun of yours and hitch a ride with me before too many people ask questions. Whatcha think?” I nodded. I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I collected my stuff quickly from the living room and made my way back out where he was waiting. As I limped with the cop to his car, I looked towards Isabelle who was being held by the other. She gave me a look of thankfulness as the cop looked at his partner with confusion. “Her brother’s got her,” Clay said, opening the back door for me. I was not gonna argue or fight. If he took me to jail or not. And that was it. My leg was not as bad off as I thought and wrapped it in the back of the police car. Clay only asked where I wanted to go and he took me back to my truck. With that time, I was back on the road with that small town in the rear view mirror. I never did find out what happened to Isabelle after that, if another creature came looking for her or if she had a chance to live in peace. I just knew that we both barely made it out alive and that was due to my own stupidity. I was furious with myself for weeks after that and told myself I wouldn’t put another person in jeopardy like that again. At least, despite my idiocy, another life was saved and another monster was put in the ground...I hoped. I never did find out if they found a body.

Credit to for the NOP Universe.
Hello everyone, I hope you’re doing well!
Sorry for the extra week to get this one out, work’s been crazy draining recently but it seems to be calming down thankfully.
I initially intended for this to be the last chapter in this arc of character development before getting back to an arc of animal lessons. But I had a last minute thought and this chapter is getting split into two, with a return to a Bernard POV in the next one.
For the animal lovers, please rest assured we will be getting back to that soon, including a look at animals that aren’t as Earthbound as what we’ve seen so far!
As always I hope you enjoy!
Thank you to u/crusingNW, u/Eager_Question, and u/Liberty-Prime76 for proofreading and pointers for this chapter!
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Memory transcription subject: Kailo, Venlil Exterminator
Date [standardised human time]: 7th September 2136
“And then there’s Ongstin, he was a Mazic that lived a little over two hundred years ago. They say he once fought off a pack of predators single pawed; admittedly, the details are a little inconsistent. I’ve heard versions where it was just a few predators, all the way to a few dozen, then there’s the ones where he fought species that don’t even exist on Khoa! But what can you do, people love to exaggerate the stories of legendary heroes. That's why it’s one of my favourites; every time I hear it, it’s always new and exciting!”
Glancing back, I was pleased to see that the Doctor was attentively nodding along to the story. Since he was wearing his mask and lacked a tail or sufficiently mobile set of ears to express himself with, I was grateful that he was making the extra effort to show he was listening to me.
Roisin acts the same way whenever she has her mask on. It must be weird, only being able to use your face to show how you feel. I don’t think I could manage without my ears and tail, especially for signing things out.
Huh, that’s a thought. I wonder if humans have sign language? Their hands do seem dextrous enough to gesture out symbols. Hmmm…
A light cough from the Doctor interrupted my stream of thought, a deep rumble rolling through him as he spoke, “Legends are always fun to tell, and they have the added benefit of teaching us valuable lessons to boot! Humans have plenty of our own you know, with more than a few of them sharing the same themes from Ongstin’s tale. Standing tall to protect others with valour and bravery, all while staring danger in the eye. I’m sure you’d find a couple easily accessible ones if you peruse the exchange’s libraries.”
My ears perked in interest at the notion of a human equivalent to a story like Ongstin’s. As embellished and rehashed as it might’ve been, with some versions even being made into movies and TV series, the narrative was always rooted in the ideals of self-sacrifice and service to something greater than yourself. Having gotten more used to them, I’d come to believe humans were hardly devoid of such ideals, but I suddenly found myself intrigued by the thought of how a species with their nature might portray them.
I should ask Roisin if she knows any of those types of stories. It’ll be interesting to get a predator's perspective on these concepts.
After making a mental reminder to ask her about it next time I saw her I looked around, noting that the Doctor and I had just passed a sign saying ‘Administration Quarter’. We hadn’t been walking for all that long, but in the short time since meeting up I must’ve told him about a dozen or so famous exterminators.
For the most part he’d just let me get on with my own ‘mini lecture’ as he’d called it, only making small comments or simple verbal acknowledgments to confirm he was still paying attention. I’d found the opportunity to educate the doctor on the greatest of the great exterminators to be rather enjoyable; it was pleasing to finally have a chance to build up the reputation of the guild in his eyes!
Well, I tried before but uh… that never went well.
I quickly brushed the thought aside, quelling the spark of shameful discomfort brought on by memories of the times I’d interrupted the class to make a point.
Forget about those, that’s all in the past. Plus, it was only a few times… maaaybe a dozen.
Gah nevermind! I’m going the slow and steady route now. And it’s already working! I doubt he would’ve ever listened to me like this before now. It’s going perfectly!
The self-encouraging reminder of my progress brought a bounce back into my step, only to be staggered when the Doctor continued our conversation with a question I definitely wouldn’t have anticipated.
“Your knowledge of individual exterminators is quite impressive Kailo. Encyclopaedic you might say! But I’ll admit, I am surprised. You’ve mentioned officers from all over the Federation, but you’ve not said a thing about the ones from your hometown. It was my understanding you thought quite highly of them. Chief Freema for example, what’s he like?”
An abrupt jolt somewhere in the back of my head stalled any immediate response. My surprise at hearing he was not only aware of Chief Freema, but also of my admiration for him, briefly had me at a loss for words. Fortunately the mental lock only lasted for a whisker's length, though I still only managed to answer him with a stuttered question of my own, “I uh- how u-um… how do you know about my Chief?”
Thankfully the Doctor either didn’t notice or feel the need to comment on my clumsy reply, calmly moving past my hiccup to clarify where exactly he’d gained his pre-existing knowledge of my work life without any fuss.
“Oh I heard about him some time ago. Rysel- …talked about him in passing once,” he explained, very clearly catching himself from saying something that obviously wasn’t as mundane as Rysel simply mentioning Chief Freema off the paw in idle chat. He was quick to sweep past the foible however, pushing on with interest, “He tells me that Freema came to your home town right around the time you joined. Gave quite the passionate speech upon his arrival. Was he the one that inspired you to ‘don the silver suit’, as it were?”
The Doctor chuckled while quoting a common tagline from countless recruitment advertisements.
Huh, I wonder where he heard that? Maybe from TV or the radio?
Gah, who cares about that, focus on what he’s actually interested in! He wants to know about what inspired me into joining the exterminators! This is a chance to tell him about the most amazing exterminator ever!
A giddiness began to swell within me, emboldening my stance along with it. Pulling myself up to my full height with ears perked high, as high the healing one could rise at the very least, my posture straightened out to full attention. I turned on the spot to directly face the Doctor, chest puffing out proudly while my tail swept behind me in an elaborate flourish to further accentuate the sheer importance of the knowledge I was about to impart upon him.
“No.”
“No?” He questioned back, a notable surprise creeping into his voice.
“No,” I confirmed once again, the whistling pitch of my voice lilting ever higher in rightful adulation for the one who’d motivated me to action, “The person who inspired me to join the Exterminators is none other than Lamet! Star Lake’s former Chief Exterminator!”
The Doctor acknowledged my answer with an energetic nod and an equally inquisitive, “Oh?”, but otherwise didn’t speak, correctly anticipating that I was far from done with my introduction to the titan among exterminators that was Lamet.
With him once again hanging on my every word I returned to walking toward the admin offices, all while doing my best to hide how delighted I was by the fact I’d garnered his attention in the same way he consistently pulled the class into his lectures.
This is awesome! Is this what being a teacher’s like? Would it feel like this when I get back home to tell everyone else what I’ve learned? Heehee!
Ah focus! I can think about that later. Right now my current student needs me.
Trying not to let my glee slip out or, if it did, at least disguise it as well-deserved praise for the subject of my lesson, I leapt into telling him all about Lamet. Someone I considered to be one of the most impactful exterminators in recent times.
“Don’t get me wrong, I look up to Chief Freema and agree with his push to keep the herd safe. That said, he can sometimes be… unreceptive to new ideas on how best to do that. But Chief Lamet? She was the poster child for fresh ideas that not only protected the herd, but bettered the entire community! For example, she cut over bloated spending on equipment that would’ve just ended up rusting in storage units and redirected it to things the town needed! Usually the Magistrate would deal with that, but since the money was already allocated to the exterminators Lamet had a lot of sway over how it was spent.”
I’d been just a pup when Lamet had enacted that particular policy. Young enough that I didn’t have much of an awareness of what was going on or why some of the adults were alarmed by the decision. However, what I did clearly recall was the joy that I and many other children had felt when a playpark close to home, that had been left in a decrepit state for harvest after harvest, was completely restored!
New slides and swing sets were installed alongside sandboxes and an enormous soft-play area, which had always been my favourite activity. Collecting dozens of foam building blocks with the other kids to see what we could create was the highlight of my paw back then. Most of the time we just tried to make the biggest tower possible, but occasionally we’d also try to build little pup-sized shelters, using blankets covertly brought to the park from home for the roofs.
I say covertly, looking back at it the parents obviously knew. They were simply happier seeing us have fun than they were worried about having to clean the fabric sheets upon their return home.
Unsurprisingly a lot of the parental grumbling had died down after only a few paws of the park being open, the giddy bleats, whistles, and beeps of their children soothing their other concerns.
Enough reminiscing for now, I still have more to say!
Picking my trail of thought back up, I ploughed on with an increasing vigour that was beginning to vibrate through my entire body, “She retired a few rotations ago, just before I joined up sadly, but she’s still active in the community, doing charity work and generally being a positive figure and influence on the greater herd. She’s taller than the average Venlil, and more muscular too so she gives off a pretty imposing vibe. But that’s just on the surface! She’s really nice! She’s helped out my parents a few times and I was lucky enough to get the chance to meet and talk to her in person when she did!”
Thanks to the final flurry of words that tumbled from my snout, robbing my lungs of any air left to use, I had to pause for a breath. But, in that instant of silence, a sheepish thought struck me.
Wait… wasn’t this meant to be a recounting of her accomplishments? Gah! I sound like a fanboy talking about their favourite character from the Exterminators show instead of sounding like I’m talking about an actual person*!*
Regrettably, this had not gone unnoticed by the Doctor, because he began chortling as he walked along beside me, “She sounds rather marvellous indeed Kailo. And you're obviously quite the fan!”
I silently thanked Inatala for humans both being significantly taller than Venlil and for having forward facing vision. If it’d been another Venlil by my side right now, the orange currently burning its way across my snout would be impossible to hide.
Mercifully the Doctor didn’t appear to be interested in continuing to talk about Lamet, or say anything more about my momentary lapse in professionalism.
Instead he’d picked up something else in the midst of my rambling, and it’d caught his attention like fuel to a pilot light, “I’ve never heard you mention family before Kailo! What are your parents like? Do you have any siblings?”
The Doctor's abrupt pivot to my family life was surprising, and with it came the feeling of wanting to swiftly distance myself from the topic as another flash of bloom added to the warm rush already running rampant across my face.
“Ummm, could we not talk about my family, please?”, my tail loosely wrapped its way around my leg, an instinctive reaction to the somewhat awkward topic being brought up out of nowhere.
“It’s nothing bad!” I hastily added, conscious of how such a request might sound to another Venlil who’d just asked about your family life, “I just uh- We um… ah-”
The Doctor waved a hand and nodded, another light chuckle weaving through his voice, “Not a problem Kailo, I won’t pry. If you say it’s nothing bad then I’ll take your word for it. Family drama can be tough at times, hm?”
I flicked an ear in thanks and agreement. His assumption hadn’t exactly hit the mark, but it wasn’t too far off the truth either.
Ugh, I really need to stop being a brahk-ass and just call them. We’ve sent messages back and forth every paw, but it’s just not the same. I’ve not properly talked to them since the paw before I left for the exchange. And over something so stupid too!
I silently cursed myself for my stubbornness, though a tiny bray of protest that nestled its way in the back of my brain still stamped its paw in defiance of my conscious acceptance that I was the one being unreasonable on this occasion.
I’ll call them soon and apologise. It’ll be nice to actually see them on a video call along with all the kids. I hope they’re doing well.
“Now then!” the Doctor suddenly declared, snapping me back to reality with a jovial ring in his voice and an enthusiastic clap of the hands, “We’re here, time to get to our meetings. Mine’s in 1C just along there, what about you?”
Shaking off the daze brought on by my drifting thoughts, my eyes followed the Doctor's hand as he pointed to a building only a few tails away from us. In all the excitement-turned-embarrassment-turned thinking about home, I hadn’t even noticed we’d arrived.
Bringing up my pad I tapped and swiped through the messaging app until I got back to Blim’s message, “Where’d he say we were? Ah! Here it is. Blim asked me to meet him in room-”
My voice petered off as I read the message, mouth hanging open in confusion as I read it again and then reread it for a third time.
“1C. The same room as your meeting, Doctor.”
The two of us looked at each other, looked to the office door only tails away, then finally looked back at one another as we put pieces together simultaneously.
“Tolim...” — “Tolim!”
A tide of anger rose within me, expelled as a furious chuff. I immediately did a 180 and moved to leave, only for the Doctor to abruptly side-step into my path.
“Kailo just wait-”
“Move.” I was struggling to keep my temper in check, and I sure as the Night didn’t want my efforts this paw to be ripped apart by that speh-heads aggravating and duplicitous schemes.
He didn’t move, instead he took a step toward me and sighed, “Kailo. I know you don’t like him, and you have every reason not to want to see him after he surprised you with all those complaints. I get it. But I think you and I both know that the anger you felt in that moment wasn’t entirely a product of just his actions.”
Part of me wanted to scream in his face right then and there, the notion that Tolim wasn’t completely at fault for my injury stoked the fury already blazing in my chest to greater heights. But another part of me, the part that knew full well what the Doctor was alluding to, smothered the impulse before it overwhelmed me.
Frustration still had me on edge however, leaving me unsure of how to respond or what to do in the moment. In the absence of forthcoming options from within, I fixed my attention to the Doctor, staring into the space where I assumed his eyes might be if it weren’t for the mask obscuring his face, and flicked an ear at him to continue.
The relief in his voice was obvious as he spoke, though I could tell he was still choosing his words with a measure of caution, “Tolim might have been the… catalyst for your accident, but it was your emotions that ultimately exploded out all at once. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Wait… what?
Bewilderment was instant as the Doctor apologised for a misdeed that completely escaped me. My ears swivelling above my head must’ve made my confusion evident because he was quick to provide an explanation.
“I knew about the complaints but didn’t talk to you about them. I hoped that further exposure to my lessons would eventually temper your outspokenness. I should’ve realised the stress was starting to get to you and been more direct, and I certainly should’ve brought it up when it was clear you were beginning to feel alienated by your peers. For that, I am sorry Kailo.”
Stunned. That’s what I was. Purely and utterly stunned by what I was hearing.
After every outburst. Every insult. Every disrespectful interruption I’d made, he’s apologising to me?
There was an immediate clash in my head as the weight of his apology hit me. On the one paw you could argue he was right to apologise. He’d just admitted that he knew I was struggling with feeling abandoned by the herd and he did nothing!
But on the other paw, becoming distanced from the herd, disrupting their efforts, berating and antagonising them whenever they took genuine interest in the lectures, pushing them to the point they raised complaints about me, those were all results of my actions, not from anything he’d done.
Also, as ridiculous as it might be to feel grateful for the accident considering the pain and fear that had followed in its wake, my injury had led to me meeting Roisin, a friend I’d quickly come to cherish in an incredibly short amount of time.
That would never have happened if he’d intervened earlier. Honestly, if the Doctor had attempted to have a heart-to-heart with me back then, the chances were that it would’ve led to an even worse situation than the injury I’d received from cracking my head against a glass bowl of jelly beans.
I… I know that now. It wasn’t his fault. And as much as it stings to admit, it isn’t entirely Tolims fault either.
As the rage subsided my shoulders sagged, pulled down by shame at the realisation that it should be me trying to make amends right now, “You- You don’t need to apologise, Doctor. I should be the one to… Well, what I mean is- Look I know- I know I’ve been difficult sometimes.”
Difficult? Difficult? Is that really what I’m going with? Gah! Why can’t I just say it?
“No wait, not difficult- I mean yes, yes to that too but- but- Hrrrmmm!”
Try as I might, the words to properly convey my feelings aloud simply failed to clamber over the small wall of pride that still stood in open revolt of being anything other than rude to a predator.
Agh! Sure he’s a predator and I need to challenge him on things, but that’s just in class! That is that and this is this! Just say sorry you stubborn idiot!
Another chuckle from the Doctor broke my stream of self-scolding thought, a jovial lilt bouncing along every syllable that left his mouth, “Difficult you say? Well, I’m not sure about that. Passionate? Maybe. Opinionated? Oh I think so. But difficult? Now why would you say that?”
Yet again I was stunned by his sheer lack of awareness for the situation. I stared up at him, a completely gobsmacked expression likely painted across my face, “Why would I say that? What do you mean why would I say that!? You were there! I interrupted you in class! I called you names and said you were lying to us! I acted like a complete wool headed fool so many times! And all you can do is ask why!? All while I’m trying to say sorry for how I behaved!? How can you- how can… you…”
As the pace of my tirade began to slow, I suddenly became aware of several things happening all at once.
The first was that, unintentional as it might have been, I’d fallen back into yet another thoughtless rant. Number two, although once again unintended, I’d successfully managed to express regret over my previous behaviour. And number three, arguably the most apparent, the Doctor was very overtly trying his damndest not to break into hysterics. Even with his mask on it was glaringly obvious he was holding back a wave of laughter.
Bloom began to creep across my snout as the realisation that I’d been tricked dawned on me. Instinctively my tail whipped out to smack the Doctor in the arm indignantly. Not so forcefully that it’d hurt, but impactful enough to make my displeasure clear.
This only served to break down whatever restraint the Doctor still had left, his mirth exploding forth to fill our surroundings with the baritone boom of his cheer, “Haha! I’m sorry Kailo, really I am. But- Ha! You just seemed like you wanted to get it all out but needed that last little push to help you along. I hope you’re not too mad?”
Mad? Of course I’m mad! I’ve been tricked! Again!
But, even though smouldering frustration still lingered after his confession, I found that I was more relieved than anything else.
While I was hardly pleased by his deception, the Doctor playing dumb had given me the opportunity to get my feelings across honestly. And even though he’d been laughing all throughout it, he’d had the decency to apologise for his trickery as well.
Against such conflicting emotions I could only muster an exasperated bray in retort to the Doctors unending fit of laughter, though my tail bobbed with tired amusement as it pulled back behind me after bapping at the Doctor's arm, “Bbrrrr… I swear, you humans are terrible for that, always teasing people. Fine, I accept your apology. Just as long as you accept mine.”
Putting a condition on accepting someone's apology might not be the most mature choice, but if he was going to act like a child then I was going to swipe back in a similarly lighthearted way. At least I hoped it would come across that way.
Fortunately my attempts to bounce off of the Doctor's humour appeared to work, as he nodded along to my terms while still chortling away merrily, “A very fair deal I’d say. Apology accepted, Kailo.”
Pleased at the outcome, I swept my tail in agreement, “Good. Then I’ll see you later, Doctor.”
Just as I turned to step around him however, the Doctor held out an arm to stop me once more, “Hold on now Kailo. We still have meetings to attend.”
I blinked up at him in shock, sure that I must’ve misheard him, “Wh- What? Why? We know it’s Tolim bringing us here with fake messages. Why would we still go!?”
The Doctor huffed in response to my incredulity, though considering he was looking toward the offices instead of me, whatever he was thinking was aimed at Tolim rather than myself.
“Tolim is a strange one I’ll admit, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who does anything without a reason. Nor do I think he’s stupid. If we’re right and these messages were really sent by him, then there must be something else going on that he’d not tell either of us. I find it difficult to believe he’d be foolish enough to deceive you again. And if he thinks he can pull the wool over my eyes then he’s got another thing coming.”
If there weren’t more pressing matters at paw then I’d ask the Doctor when he started learning Venlil idioms. For now though, with the growing pull of my instincts telling me to turn around and leave, I simply flapped my ears in an uncaring shrug, “So? Who cares if he has plans, why do we have to deal with whatever it is he's scheming?”
“Because,” the Doctor replied, a tinge of curiosity playing at the edges of his voice, “I’m interested to see what kind of game he’s playing. And as for you, it may be healthy for you to face someone who makes you uncomfortable, this time with an ally by your side, hm?”
Healthy? An ally? Ummm… I’m not sure-
The Doctor didn’t give me time to dwell on what he’d said, for without warning he took off, powering toward the office with purpose, “I won’t force you to come with me Kailo, but I do think it’d be good for you.”
As he got closer to the door I found that my legs had started to tentatively pad after him of their own volition, the promise of having an ‘ally’ with me for this encounter still reverberating in my ears.
Facing Tolim was a discomforting thought. I hardly saw him as a threat or as someone to be feared, but he’d always just felt off to me. That sense of offness had only grown in the aftermath of the accident, likely compounded by the memories it dredged up coupled with the reminder that it was more my fault than his, as the Doctor had pointed out earlier.
Still, perhaps the Doctor was onto something. An exterminator had to be able to look fear in the eye without blinking; just like Ongstin had done! Was I going to avoid Tolim just because I was a little unnerved by him?
No. No I’m not. I’ll take him head on!
Resolved to confront whatever ploy Tolim had cooked up, my paws pushed forward decisively, padding up to the Doctors side with renewed vigour in every step.
The Doctor nodded to me as I joined him at the door, silently checking my readiness for the encounter to come. With one more courage-steeling breath, I flicked an ear back in confirmation before turning my snout to directly face the door.
Ok Tolim. Let’s see what kind of tricks you’re hiding in your wool.

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