THAT WAS CHOICE...

  Sooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax at one of the grande parties that were an almost daily event at my ______'s parent's place. The place was a hapening kind-of place in the early 70s with at least 30+ party-going adults spread out evenly amoung the many picnic tables spread out throughout their yard & the 2 neighboring yards. Most of them were my extended cousins, strangers too me for the most part. You see, talking to me could get you punished by the family patriarch. Some even whined to me. "They beat me with rods for talking to you". & the ever popular. "I had to dance naked on a stage while being sprayed with a hose because of you". The party's many children who were enjoying all sorts of fun activities were also forbidden to have anything to do with me under threat of severe punishment. Every now & again I'd complain thusly about it. "But I'm The Good Kid". Invoking my title thrust upon me by them that came with much pain & woe with no benifits. It didn't matter. None of them dared to even be seen with me. The weirdest part? Most of the adults & kids would be gone by week's end, never to be seen again. It always perplexed me that so many different people would attend those parties of woe (woe for me that is, everyone else seemed to have drink & drugs in an unlimited supply).

  Yeah... just standing there... yup... all alone in a crowd... by myself... alone... Then my nameless potbellied wild-eyed white haired 50ish year old "Cousin" demanded I go & get him a beer. My ______ (honor honor honor) had long ago ordered me to obey the child-torturing sadist's every command so I did. Once I'd found a cold one & handed it too him he began to discuss my ongoing kidnappings & rapes. The memory isn't as sharp as some of the others but as I recall it while he stood in their kitchen he went on & on about my participation in his child-porn movies.

  "I didn't star in no child-porn movie". I angrily answered back the lyingest liar I'd ever met.

  He went on about how my ______ had drugged me & handed my circa 1972 butt over to him, them & they'd spent a good chunk of the summer getting me to preform sex acts for them filming both that & my drug-numbed self running a gang of drug-dealers. "You ran a drug-dealing ring". Was amoung his many statements.

  Picture me nodding up & down sarcasticly while he droned on about my killing people on film for him... them. I didn't buy it & called him a liar.

  "That was real choice how you killed that guy by shooting him in all of his limbs first". The smiling uberjerk bragged.

  Me? I pondered my recent life.... in horror I realized... the horror... the horror...

  I had been running a drug operation, for weeks, in my dreams as it's leader & enforcer. My "handler", one of my "Trio Of Cousins", the dark-haired one had been leading me from place to place. We bought, we sold, we beat, & I killed a guy... 18 years old, maybe more... maybe less...

  I recalled him not cooperating, things werrn't going our way & when I percieved I was dreaming back in 1977 that was a bad thing for anyone that I might encounter. 1/3rd of the Trio asked me if I was going to let this guy do "this" to us?

  No... no I wasn't. So I shot him in the leg & he dropped. The first thing that I thought was unusual was that my dreams rarely had gore or even wounds themselves. Most people simply reacted to whatever violence I directed at them by grimacing in pain or simply flopping over dead but this guy had an actual bullet hole in his leg. The guy begged for his life while 1/3rd of the Trio snickered as I kept shooting his other limbs one at a time.

  While the guy's pleas for mercy died down 1/3rd of the Trio suggested that I torture him slowly to death by shooting him in various non-lethal spots on his body.

  "No". I told him. "I'm gonna kill him quick & clean". Then, I did. BANG!

  Back in the present I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My Cousin droned on & on. "Now we've got films of you dealing drugs & even killing a person on film". Now they could do anything that they wanted to me for the rest of my life & no one would care because I was a serial-killer & he had the films to prove it.

  "There ain't no 7 year old serial-killers in our country"! I shouted back through the sick feeling that now permeated my very being. I told him no one would buy it.

  Not so he assured me. In the films I was clearly the leader of the entire operation & I'd sadisticly slain someone. "The cops are looking for you right now. They have a complete description of you but they don't know who you are". He bragged that his dirty cops in some nameless community had reverse-engineered a flawless case against me & that if need be 1/3rd of the Trio could simply "turn state's evidence" against me, finger me as the leader of the entire operation, & then walk away scott-free or at a reduced sentece. Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! "You wont be seeing your cousin for a while. I gave him a couple of month vaction for doing so well as your handler in those films".

  I'm sorry...

  Me? I had to re-asses my life. Was what he said true? I hadn't told anyone about the events. How did he know about these things in such detail? In the end I concluded that I was just a kid & that I couldn't explain everything.

  Me? It occured to me that he was right about one thing. At night... when I closed my eyes to dream... I was a scoundrel's scoundrel. Killer? Theif? Drug-dealer? I guess you could call them my dream jobs. Since that time in 1976 I've been tempted to become a drug-dealer myself, I even dicussed it at length a few times but always backed out in the end.

  A few months after My Cousin tore into me I would be teased again by the top 1/3rd of the Trio & the renewed hatred from the other 2/3rds of it that the ordeal had spawned. They whined that they'd been in competition for a lucrative leadership role in the gang & now the top 1/3rd had won it. Now, I would pay & with a re-newed vigor My Trio Of Cousins set out to do just that. Ow...

  During this entire time I was called by the nickname "The Good Kid". A title that I answered to both at home & at school.

 

  THEY BROKE ME... Back To School Daze follow-up...

  "Now you have to make a gay porno or die"! Duh Jerk told 1985 me in the presence of his 4 Stars F.B., Duh Weasel, The Mayor's Brat, & Short Stuff & their pet dirty cop who I've nicknamed Dirty Cop. He didn't talk much during the torture sessions he provided security for, as a rule.

  "Okay". I said standing naked in my cage with 5 pretty women about my age.

  His smile dropped like a ton of bricks. "What"? He asked me.

  "Your terms are acceptable. I choose death". Allready near the limits of human endurance by their latest torture session that I was in the midst of.

  It seemed to throw them off. They all looked one to another in amazement so I broke the ice by asking. "Why do you want me to make a gay porno so bad"?

  "Because once you make a gay porno no cop will ever listen to you about your accusations about the gym".

  I just had to add. "I quit making accusations about the gym a long time ago because the cops don't bellieive me. You know people would forget about the gym but you guys keep bringing it back up". I've told them from time to time. "You know what? The cops don't believe me about the gym but if you keep messing with me they just might". "The gym! The gym! The gym! It's always the gym when I deal with those guys. In my opinion reader. "The entire gang of the Child-Molestors developed a severe case of penis-envy in the gym". Yeah, you can quote me.

  The torture resumed... they changed their saying slightly & now it went sopmething like this. "Now you have to make a gay porno or we'll keep you awake until you go insane". It varied from person to person as he & his 4 Stars took shifts overseeing my torture wich consisted of pain & rape sessions mixed with insane drugged skits. Yeah, I fought them, I lost over & over & over & over & over & over & over... I ain't getting into it much... we'll just get to the part where... they broke me.... they... broke... me...

  "Now you have to star in a gay porno & I'll let you go".

  I didn't buy it one bit but I'd been broken, I took my chances...

  They lied. Big surprise there. They brought in a long line of men & boys for me to service. And they lied, they didn''t let me go. So now I had to do... "things". A blur of being their friend & lovers, on film. Film after film after film was shot to confirm that these were not my attempted-murderers from the gym, they were my pals! "Now your accusations about the gym will seem like the accusations of a jilted lover".

  I said. "You do remember that there were girls in the gym. What about my accusations against them"?

 

  THEY BROKE ME...Back To School Daze continued...

  The above Child-Molestor & self-professed rapist for profit bragged to me. "You starred in a gay porno. No no one is going to belive

your accusations about the gym. We took you to a mansion & you willingly had sex in a gay orgy. Now the cops will never believe

you that the kids of the gym weren't your friends & your accusations about the gym are just a lover's quarrel". "Everyone at that

masion will testify in court that you were there of your own free will & that you are their friend".

  I pondered it & recalled how that went...

  We pulled up at a darkened mansion of sorts where I was awakened with a slap in the back of a limo. Four chains connected to a

leather vest enabled the 4 Stars to drag me inside, not that they needed too... because... they'd broke me...

  Once inside Duh Jerk informed me I had to have sex with all of these men who weren't involved. It'd be the proof he needed that

I was gay.

  "What's that going to prove"? I asked.

  "It's all about making you out to be a liar so the cops will ignore your accusations about the gym. You say you're straight but we

prove you're gay. You say we tried to kill you in the gym but we have films proving you & the children of the gym are great friends".

He said with a smile.

  I went with my "go to phrase" when I deal with him. "You suck".

  Yeah yeah yeah. Homos to the left, rapists to the right, & innocent queers according to Duh Jerk & his later bragging "sniotch". Sooo... I pondered the situation before me. If these guys, if these gays really were innocent, then I could try to fight my way out. I gave my ongoing plan to escape it's best odds yet. So I tried to leave & attacked!

  Everyone & I mean everyone in the room produced a syringe. Some had them in hiding on their person. Others had them hidden in the cracks of furniture, behind pillows, in every blind spot between them & the camera & they attacked as one!

  I lost.... ow...

  I told the self-professed child-rapist for profit that I didn't buy it one bit, I knew he was lying & described the gang's attack on me.

  "I know. Duh Jerk sent me here to see how much you remembered about that attack. Our gang are professional victims". He bragged that it's incidents just like this that empower them. "When you accuse us of being your rapists they'll accuse you [of anything we want them to] & they'll all have a vested interest in seeing that you go down".

 

  THEY BROKE ME... Life in the Bay City Defunct Hospital...

  There I was in the defunct hospital circa summer 1988. The madness, the perversion, decades of pure mind-numbing on again off again torture by masters of perversion & being driven to the limits of human endurance over & over sometimes with the full assistance of uniformed & on duty... cops. I just couldn't take it anymore... I broke... they broke me... I... was... broken...

  It's hard to describe that point in one's mind when sleep deprivation & torture have finally broken you. They bragged that better men than me cracked quicker. Who did I have to help me? Why was I resisting? For what philosophy? Why?

  They'd been saying. We're going to torture you until sleep deprivation drives you insane. You've got to dance the coolie & we'll let you go. I'm tired of you not obeying me & getting a free pass on dancing the coolie"! And stuff like unto it. Duh Jerk & the 4 Stars combined with their gang were relentless. It sucked!

The truth is in a moment of time it occurred to me that I was "losing it". Who & what I was was being lost & I feared irreparable damage to both my mind & even my very soul was about to occur. That's when... I broke... They... broke... me...

  I told them "Yes! I'll do it! Anything! Please just let me sleep! At least in prison they'll let me sleep"!

  Duh Jerk smiled a broad smile as did his Stars and he said. "Good. But there's a few other things that you'll have to do before that".

  What happened next was I had to service an unending line of perverts, men, women, children, beasts, & appliances. All on film.

Allways on film...

  At one point I remember F.B. looked at me with a look of disgust & teased me. "I never thought you'd cry like a little girl".

  I teased him right back. I pointed out that in early 1977 I heard he'd been tortured for his incompetence & had cried like a little girl

very quickly. Then I told him that I'd heard he'd failed against me recently & been tortured as a consequence & had cried like a little

girl again. "It took decades of torturing me over & over to the limits of human endurance to get me to cry & I hear that you cried like

a little girl as soon as they started to torture you".

  He seemed humiliated in front of his gang & then Duh Weasel & Short Stuff began to tease him as well.

  F.B. countered. "Don't laugh because when you guys got tortured you both cried like little girls too".

  That shut them all up!

  Later, during the perversions to come Duh Jerk said. "That's not enough". When I asked for leniency based on the services I'd

provided. Next I had to "Dance the Coolie".

  Horror... Suffice it to say, that while providing them a sexual spectacle I was forced to dance while being sprayed with an ice-cold

fire hose. The 3/4 of the 4 Stars threw beer cans & refuse at me while I provided them their sadistic entertainment.

  "Faster"! The 4 Stars demanded. "FASTER"!

  So I did. I danced faster & faster while they threw even more soda cans & garbage at me. The memory ends abruptly...

  ...

  I woke up at home none for the worse... my Roommate left for whatever reason & there was a knock at the side-door. The guy

who was there, a 18ish year old, obviously short guy reminded me of my recent torture session & that I'd promised to join the Child-

Molestors to end the pain.

  "I just said that to end the pain. Tell Jerk I personally told him to f@#! off".

  That's when the guy yelled on an otherwise sunny morning in Bay City Michigan's south-end on Michigan Street. "Why don't you tell him yourself"?!

  An ambulance pulled up in my front yard with a semi truck & trailer completely obscuring my yard from the road. A phalanx of young men formed a line shoulder to shoulder in my front yard & the back yard between the narrow spaces between the two yards. Duh Jerk, Dirty Cop, and the 4 Stars were in the line closest to my front yard... smiling....

  Dirty Cop was the one doing the talking today. He told me to surrender because he was arresting me after a hot-pursuit. "See all of these guys. They're my witnesses who I've deputized to help me to subdue you". He went on to explain that it was a subdual that I wouldn't survive. We all spouted a few insults back & forth... loudly.

  "You broke your word". Said the seemingly hurt, but still smiling Duh Jerk.

  "You broke your word! You told me before each thing that you'd let me go if I did it"! I yelled over the sound of the traffic.

  Duh Jerk explained it was the nature of the biz. He was expected to lie, but he expected more from me. Then he added. "Don't even think of turning around & jumping out a window. You're famous for jumping out windows so I put a whole bunch of guys on the other side of your house".

  As he said that a cameraman stood poised with his never-blinking camera pointed at me... me...

  Me? I didn't know what to do? Dirty Cop promised me death if I ran, I would die in a very much justified vigilante death. I looked at the camera, the unbeatable pervert horde, I pondered the fact that I was still recovering from the torture. With a sigh I submitted to Dirty Cop's "arrest".

  The memory ends abruptly there...

  Later A guy claiming to be bragging on Duh Jerk's behalf bragged about my "coolie dance". "Jerk pushed you too hard and you passed out into a coma for 3 days. Then we resumed the torture but you had amnesia & didn't seem to remember any of the torture that lead up to us breaking you. It was close to the end of summer anyway and Jerk said. "I'm not going through all of that again" so we just let you go. He had plans for you to do a whole bunch more stuff". Like servicing a never-ending line-up of children, men, women, beasts, and appliances he bragged.

 

  ME... lately... circa 2013...

  Eventually... I got at least 2 (yes two!) people to read my website. Eh, the first said it was weak. The second sent me an e-mail asking me how I wrote this from inside prison. Weak? Perhaps... I'm not writing for show or profit, I'm all alone and writing to save my life. It's taking every once of what I've got to write & no one is helping me in any way. Pain is my only companion while I write. Pain! Pain. Pain...

  So I figured I should write about my life... lately. Well, I wrote to the F.B.I. for help (Pretend I'm making a ghost sound & wiggling my fingers), big wup. The Child-Molestors brag that the Bay City F.B.I. is in their pocket, probably the left front one I'd guess. Probably. True or not, eh, who can say?

  Then the group made good on their promise to destroy my knees, shoulders, & privates from the inside... with medical insterments. "You can go to the cops if you want but they'll say that you're crazy. They know that there are people all over the world doing what we're doing to you but they wont believe you".

  So I went to the Bay City... cops. The dirty cop at the front desk, soon to be called my kidnapper mocked me fiercely & became

enraged at the mere mention of a former dirty cop who'd plagued me. The Blond secratary stared at me wide-eyed (eh... I get

that in Bay City). He refused to file a report unless I went to the hospital, difficult because I was nearly broke & in a lot of pain.

So I martialed my strength & went to the Bunga-Bunga Hospital.

  At the Bunga-Bunga Hospital they promptly locked me up in the looney bin after a 2 minute interview and put me on a mere 2

Tylenol every 4 hours for pain & refused to investigate my medical claims one bit. After 3 days they were forced to release me...

  So... I bided my time & in a few months I had enough to flee... so I did. To National City.

  National City was great, perhaps the nicest place I've ever lived. Though I lived in the woods in the middle of nowhere I was

soon abducted... tire marks pointing to my home which I'd seen before pointed to something strange. Duh Jerk was there & in

the fleeting memories I recalled having sex whith TMOMC. At first I thought (as in times past) "This can't be happening to

me". Then, when I came down with scabies, I had no doubt, so I fled. I flitted from town to town looking for a place that might

help me. Boy was I stupid. America is a great country... but if you rub organized crime the wrong way, no one & I mean no

one is going to stick their neck out & help you. Cops flee (or bend over & grab their ankles as the case may be I'd guess), rape

crisis lines wish you luck, & others tell you it's not their problem.

  I'm alone & my pain is growing, I don't know how much longer I have walking. The Child-Molestors have promised me great

pain saying things like. "You are just too dangerous to handle. That's why we're going to do what we do to your shoulders &

knees". When I said I'd still fight them he predicted, not for long. They did this all the time & a few hours of twisting on my

already damaged limbs should make me willing to do any perversion that they want to "fill in the gaps of their case against me".

  Me? I've been tortured too much in life... I don't know if I even had the strength to resist them before they humbled me in my

limbs. Now... now it is very likely I'll be wheeled into a courtroom only to watch the myriad of perversion that I am about to do

in exchange for yet another moment's respite from these madmen & what they are willing to inflict upon me for reasons of both

revenge & profit.

  I don't have any trades, physical labor is all I've known & they've taken that away from me... probably for life. I lack the

temperment for office work. I figure I'm just... most likely doomed & there isn't thing one I can do about it.

  Yeah, I've prayed a lot. other people told me they prayed... a lot.

  All I'll say about the... cops, F.B.I., Child-Molestors & their ever-willing-to-help-but-apologetic-victim/members is this. Whatever...

 

  BANK JOB! BANK JOB! BANK JOB!

  Sooo... there I was in the woods of Munger Michigan F.B., Short Stuff, & Duh Weasel told me in the presence of Duh Jerk while we all stood next to a set of white linces painted on the cut grass aproximating some building. "We like to torture people here".

  Duh Jerk told me what would become of my circa 1988 life shortly. "We're going to beat you and make you pracatice robbing banks over & over & when you're delerious & doing it reliably we'll take you to a bank & get you to rob it".

  It hurts too much to write about... Yeah... we played out the senario for weeks in the hot Munger summer sun. They made a point of eating their meals in front of me & gave me nothing to eat.

  At one point I recall becoming lucid and turned to My Buddy & asked. "Are you one of them".

  It was Duh Weasel who said. "Don't worry about it. He says that all the time".

 rob the bank...  Yeah yeah yeah, Torture, drugs, sleep deprivation... rob the bank... rob the bank... rob the bank... rob the bank... rob the bank... rob the bank...

 rob the bank... rob the bank... rob the bank... I ask the reader this... What do you think happened next? Yeah, someone died... I didn't pull the trigger...

  Later when they were dividing the cash from the heist Duh Jerk told his guy pointing a gun at me. "Give me his wallet".

  When the towering rifle weilding jock took my wallet & handed it to Duh Jerk he took all of my big bills & left me with a $5 & told his gang who suggested I get a share. "He should never profit by what we do to him".

 

  ME... lately...

  Sooo as the story goes... about 4 years ago Bunny Girl came over to my house. I recalled her standing beside Duh Jerk & my Nurse Prcaticioner during my last rape & pondered the situation before me. I figured that there were good odds I'd soon be violently raped... en-mass... again. I also figured there'd be good odds that I'd be killing someone soon. Innocent... guilty... maybe a Chuild-Molestor? Maybe someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time... who can say? I suspected that there was even better odds that a camera weilding crew were nearby with a van-load of jocks who could "innocently" pound me into the dirt if I should handle the situation poorly. So I chose to be nice since the other options seemed foolhardy at best. She'd showed up at my place with an ugly 20ish blonde & a chunky girl with a big "assette" & even bigger top (the poor girl probably hadn't seen her feet in years) dressed in gang-black.

  Eh... I was nice... they seemed to come on to me... but I declined (kidnappings & rapes aside I figured if I can't keep one woman happy why would I want to make 2 or 3 miserable?). Bunny Girl announced she'd return the next day to give me sex because she was short on time & that (& this is a true fact) I needed a shower (I'm not the 1st rape victim to make themselves unappealing to their rapists by doing (or not doing) this).

  Did Bunny Girl return? I didn't see her again (that I know of) & I woke up at home & recalled my last night's abduction. How they got me, Idano? But here's the story...

  I became lucid on a bed in a girl's bedroom with two 11ish year old thin brunette girls. One was sitting next to me on the bed & the other manned a camera pointing at the two of us. The little girl gave me a closed moth smile & offered me sex. We should ignore life's age barriers & have sex. Then she leaned in for a kiss. Her young partner in crime leveled the camera all the more & braced herself all the better to bear it's weight for the time to come.

  Me? I pondered the situation before me. Then I thought. "If I do this then I'll be a child-molester". I had a moment where my heart lifted up in arrogant pride. "This is stupid. I'd never fall for this & I'd never do such a thing. Duh Jerk is wasting his time". Then I had a hubling moment. It occured to me that they've been doing this kind of stuff to me for decades & they wouldn't do it if it didn't work. A humiliating and sobering fact. So I stood up & exited by walking past the girl blocking the door like she wasn't there, gently, but forcefully. Once outside her bedroom I walked down the short hallway & into a kitchen. There I saw a middle-aged couple, a 40ish year old blonde man & a 60ish year old brunette, presumably the girl's parents. I recalled an earlier gang-rape & torture with them involved & told the guy face to face. "Why don't you give up being a child-molester & get your heart right with God"?

  He hung his head in shame.

  I spoke a few more words denouncing their lifestyle & pointed to a few social implications that all point to a single subject CHILD MOLESTING IS MORALLY WRONG (yeah... I talk like that on their drugs... off'em too)!

  So I walked outside & I could see that I was at an apartment complex on the corner of Bay County's W. Hampton Rd. & N. Knight Rd. facing the water tower in the near distance. I chose to walk away (it's not like I had many options). That's when a marked Bay City... cop car pulled up on my left & an ambulance on my right... I'll let the reader guess the rest... Bay City... cops... a name you can trust!

  Time passes, a few days... then I get all predictable & go to watch the Bay City rape event... oops... I mean Bay City Fireworks festival at the spot I've used for a few years, on the water south of the Veteran's Bridge. Yeah... predictable...

  It was there that I saw the little girl, her camera weilding partner-in-crime, presumably her parents, and 5 or 6 other teenaged girls setting up shop near me much like any other family around there.

  The rational part of my brain told me to run, to run screaming, anything, but to get out of there now!

  Then the stupid side of my brain chimed in, you know, "the curious side". In the past the Child-Molestors have bragged to me that before, but sometimes after a rape that they delite in having their rapists join their victims in doing whatever they might be doing (easy because their victim's memories will have been addled or erased by the drugs they were forced to endure). I've heard things like. "You went to that resturaunt & our rapists set up shop on either side of you & then they posed for our pictures like you were one of us". The pictures, combined with the little time markings in the corner of the movie or the backs of the picture are alleged to be absoulutely damming to their victims. Eh, it sucks to be me... and the Child-Molestors brag that it always will.

  Uh... back to the story... I wanted to "see the machine in operation". You know... see how it's done. It may be the death of me but I cant undo what I did... I... an American citizen... sat... in... a... public... park. Me, yes I did it. Right there in broad daylight during the 4th of July ceremony south of the Vet's Bridge at a table on the waterfront. Me... After an hour or 2 the group subtilly aproached me, one or two at a time formed up on either side of me. Teenaged girls tended babies, family moments inched closer... soon the entire clan surrounded me as I sat on a bench near the water, then they assumed "action poses" and one of them snapped a picture with them surrounding me as though I was a part of their family action. Me... less than nobody. Then the group broke up & went back to their nearby van. They all smiled smiles of satisfaction and beamed at me... the little girls was... kinda gross actually. She had a toothy smile with her teeth widely spaced apart, perhaps one tooth width space between each tooth. I thought to myself. "So that's why she kept her mouth closed during the attempted seduction".

  Later they sent a guy to brag on the subject... he claimed that the group "owned" all of the apartments facing the water tower making it easy to torture anyone there, he assured me no one would testify on my behalf about the subject.

  Whatever...

 

  ANOTHER COLUMBINE… More children’s lives for the greater amusement of the Child-Molestors…

  As the story goes this kidnapper decided to boast on behalf of the Child-Molestors. “We’re thinking of drugging you & handing you a gun &

talking you into killing a classroom of kids like they did in Columbine. They’ll probably be kids from our group & when you kill some of them

it’ll make them above suspicion for life”.

  I protested that no family, no matter how loyal, would give up so many kids to bee slain thusly. That & that no conspiracy that large could

endure scrutiny.

  Not so he assured me. He told me the obvious, that once children had been slain & the survivors & their families risked being implicated

that they’d fall in line with the orders of their Child-Molestor leaders & be all the more motivated to destroy me out of a sense of revenge for

the dead or wounded kids. Then I could cry to the cops all I wanted if I survived but they’d make sure I was delirious from drugs & sleep-

deprivation & no cop would take me seriously. “You can go to the cops & tell them if you want but they’ll tell you you’re crazy & you’ll only

make our case stronger. We’ll probably dope you out of your mind & convince you you’ve travelled back in time & that the class are the kids

from the gym & talk you into shooting them for revenge”.

  Angrily I countered. “If I didn’t want revenge during the gym what makes you think I’d want revenge now”?

  “Maybe we’ll just beat the s@#! out of you & make you shoot a class of kids over & over until you’re doing it reliably & then we‘ll put real bullets in the gun”.

  "No one's going to hand over their kids to you guys to have me shoot them". I countered angrilly.

  “We’ll tell them there’s blanks in the gun & explain it away by telling their families that we were only playing with you & some moron accidentally put real bullets in the gun then the their families will be forced to side with us”.

  Time passes until only a few years ago…

  There I was, who knows where in some business building I'd guess? F.B. and some beautifull woman manuvered me into a room and sat me down at a tablewith all the bomb-making tools and supplies one would ever need to make a bomb with an easy to follow bomb-making guide taped to the table on my right.

  F.B. said. "Since you're dreaming why not make a bomb"?

  Me? I was so zonned out on who knows what drug(s?) that I wasn't even slightly alarmed to be in the presence of my lifelong stalker and self-appointed child-killer so we went back and forth, what bomb, how, what I'd need? He provided it all, set up a camera and left.

  So I set out to build a bomb. The only problem was, the dosage of drug(s?) need to get me to build a biomb left me with the long-term memory of a goldfish, I kept forgetting what I was doing, where I was, and when I remained focused on the task at hand it was difficult to figure out what stage of construction I was at in my task and apply it before my memory reset, leaving me befuddled and addled at best.

  No prob, F.B.'d thought of everything. The beautifull woman kept gently coaxing me. "Build the Bomb". Talking to me like an idion or a child she said. "Go on. Builkd the bomb".

  So I did...

  Time passes...

  I was standing in a school hallway beside F.B. drugged out of my mind. He handed me a hunting rifle, pointed at a classroom, & said. “Since you’re dreaming why not take this rifle & go shoot the kids in that class”? He pointed to a school classroom just ahead of us & to the right.

  Me? I wasn’t alarmed to be in the presence of my kidnapping raping attempted murderer one bit because of the drugs. While I know realize it was him after reflecting on the incident, during the incident who he was didn’t even slightly occur to me.

  First… let me say this to any investigators… no one was in any danger at any moment… I wasn’t shooting anyone…

  I walked the short walk down the hall & my drug-hazed brain tried to process what I’d been told to do on the way. I walked into a sparsely furnished classroom. Other than the desks the room seemed void of anything than the 30 or so 11-year old children who sat with their hands folded at their desks.

  As I looked at the students I had a moment of deja-vu. These kids were not just kids… they were made up in 70’s style clothes & they bore the haircuts of the children of the Red-Horned Teacher’s 1976-77 class! The Munger Boy 5 were represented in the front row. F.B., Duh Weasel, Short Stuff, The Mayor’s Brat, & Just Desserts with the vague representation of Snitch Girl seated on their left! For whatever reason my eyes were immediately drawn to where I used to sit in that classroom of horrors (to see if there'd be an empty seat, there wasn't) & I saw the equally vague Hispanic representatives for Shy Fawn & her Talking Partner!

  The gears in my head began to spin as I processed the information before me. F.B. was trying to get me to kill these kids... "Columbine Style"! So I told the kids. “A guy sent me in here with this rifle & told me to kill you guys”. I went on to tell them their lives were in extreme jeopardy because, since they were probably in on it, during my next drugged cycle I would be very likely to kill them.

  The kids assured me that this was a group prank & that they & I were in no danger. We chatted for nearly a minute on the subject.

  Then a uniformed police officer came in and leveled his pistol at me. After his freeze scumbag speech that I barely recall he said. “I heard that a guy with a gun was wandering the hallways of the school”.

  It was then that I saw the camera in the back of the classroom pointed at us. I pondered the situation before me & remembered Duh Jerk’s words. "We like to trick our victims into violence on or near police. It proves they’re increasingly irrational”. Frankly… I just couldn’t think of another plan, I looked at the cop… looked at the camera… and then submitted to his arrest at gunpoint.

  As soon as I was cuffed & restrained F.B. walked in with a guy who had a syringe.

  I protested that this wasn’t a game; it was pre-meditated & rehearsed mass-murder.

  “We’re just playing with you”. F.B. said with a smile as the guy prepared the needle.

  I appealed to the cop & the kids. “O yeah? Check the gun. I’ll bet it’s got real bullets in it”.

  Without checking the gun F.B. said. “That’s just how blanks look”. While he spoke more men filtered into the room.

  I said. “Uh uh. Blanks have a cardboard tip & look blunt. Those bullets will look like real bullets”.

  He protested that there was only blanks in the gun while I kicked the syringe across the room much to the guy holding its chagrin.

  “Oh yeah? Pull the trigger. I’ll bet there’s real bullets in that gun”.

  At this point the children seemed to be getting very irate. That’s the thing about Child-Molestor kids, they’re brats! “Pull the trigger”. "Yeah! Pull the trigger. I want to see if there are real bullets in that gun”. They swarmed the gun holder angrily en-mass & the classroom turned into a shoving match & a few of the kids grabbed at the rifle's trigger while the growing number of adults squared off(presumeably Child-Molestor regulars turned would-be vigilantes who'd bravely beaten me to death had a single shot gone off)! The room was full of people pushing, shoving, and there were even a few blows exchanged that threats quelled!

  F.B. countered. “If there are real bullets in that gun then someone put them in there by mistake”!

  The room became a beehive of finger-pointing shoving & arguing by both children & adults.

  I recall F.B. looking into the direction of the cop holding my cuffed hands behind my back & using his thumb to make a cutting motion across his throat.

  The memory ends abruptly there.

  When I woke up my shoulders & knees were on fire. They'd just begun the begining of the end for me just as they'd said. A burning fire was in my rectum & from there led to my balls. They were numb and their insides at the base felt... stretched. Feeling as though 2 snakes had slithered up either side of my back to my shoulders where a burning pain pulsed, leaving the joints feeling as though they had gravel in them, or like unto if sandpaper was now lubricating my shoulders. The twin probes had, as boasted, had obviously slithered down my legs to my knees along the femoral artery. My knees were on fire.

  Just like Duh Jerk's boy had bragged, a medical insterment had been introduced into my body & they'd "tunneled around". "We have a Dr. from Detroit who does it for $10,000 & when we show him our films of you he'll be glad to do it. He'll testify that you had a condition that he operated on". "We do it because it's indetectable. We go in through the rectum just along the inside so standard medical insterments wont detect it". "Even if you do get the cops to listen to you the worst you can do is sue him [the Dr.] & when you take money from his insurance company that will legitimize what we did to you". "Even if the cops do find out what we did to you it'll only prove to a jury that you're a scumbag. People will say. 'A scumbag got what was coming to him' and it'll only be more proof to the jury that you are a scumbag. We've been doing this for a long time & we know exactly what people want to hear".

  I asked him about the logistics of the incident. "Why'd he make me go to the class over & over on drugs"? It just didn't make any sense to me.

  It was some time after I submitted to the lie setector test that we chatted about some things. "We do it to the victim over & over and have them stand down the hall a ways back from the objective. That way if they're still incoherant when they get to the classroom they'll wander around because their long-term memory isn't working yet. Then we take them back to the starting point & try again. That way we catch the victim at the exact moment they become lucid & their long-term memory resets. Then someone like you shoots the kids or something equally damming & then we have our guys rush in & save the day & no one will believe a semi-lucid victim who's holding the smoking gun. It's only trivia to add that he told me that he loathed me, because of all of the little Child-Molestors who would've died and because of all of the other CHild-Molestors I'd slain because of them.

  Defensively I said. "If you guys would quit kidnapping me no one else would've gotten hurt"!

  "It all started a long time ago when you hurt a Child-Molestor (or did he mean child-molestor? I didn't ask). That begs revenge. Once we target a person we never give up on them no matter what the cost. Your fate was sealed the day you killed one of us".

  "Yeah! When I was 2 & only because you guys drugged me & I thought I was dreaming".

  "I know, now. This has gone too far".

  Today… as I write this I can only think back on the words of the boasting Child-Molestor. He bragged on & on that it mattered not if I killed the kids. Repeating any of it was more than enough to ensure that the cops would say I was crazy & thus, someone undeserving of freedom in America. You see reader… once the Child-Molestors set their sights on a victim there’s nothing that victim can say or do to extricate themselves from them. The more sadistic & perverse they treat their victims is only proof unto itself that the victim is mad & should be ignored… or destroyed.

  My opinion on the subject? Ow…