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  WEIRDISMS...

  A weirdism is a type of story-telling that is presented, in seemingly random fashion to tell one's story, but offers no moral nor comes to any meaningful conclusion. Simply put, it's just weird things that a person has endured in their life. In this case, its what I've had to endure from the Child-Molestors, thier gang, and their ever willing to help but easily manipulated stable of weak-minded vigilantes.

  So, here in this section, I plan only to write the most insane, trully twisted, perverse things ever inflicted upon an otherwise law-abiding citizen in America. Personally, I recommend that the reader skip this page. It really isn't that important. Eh, they all but double-dared me to reveal a few of the things the gang inflicted upon myself and others, boasting that the Child-Molestor's own perversion, the gang's M.O., once repeated publicly, would be all the evidence that my stalkers need to ensure my eventual destruction.

   Eh, me? I'm contrary. Always was. Dare me to do something stupid, tell me only a fool would do it, and I just might. You tell me to run, I walk. You tell me to walk, I jog. Brag only an idiot would repeat it, and I just might. I was always contrary from my youth when confronted with violence. The pays not good for being contrary but it has it's benefits.

  Whatever...

 

  POW NOW BROWN COW...

  Picture being raped by all the animals of the barnyard... then a madman bends over to talk to restrained you and says. "All I have to do is make your story so unbelievable that no jury would ever convict me".

 

  “WE DID YOU STALLONE STYLE”…

  There I was in the front passenger seat driving down America’s tax-payer paid for I-75 interstate highway being interrogated by my kidnapping rapist while F. Enforcer provided security while sitting in the back seat of the luxury car. It was a dark and otherwise unremarkable night, were it not for the child I’d slain just a short time ago for one of their many “snuff films” circa summer about 5 or so years ago. I was on a drug or drugs, again, not by my choosing and answering his every question. Kind of an information gathering/taunting/bragging session actually. The… cops have told me no one would ever be so lowly as to do that to someone. Clearly it’s a violation of section one, page one of the rapist/victims rights and responsibilities handbook all rapists are honor bound to obey (just ask any mid-Michigan law-enforcement officer, they can quote it directly from the book. Uh… did you… cops make sure Duh Jerk & his Weasel got a copy?).

  What is a “Snuff Film”? It is a film where someone is murdered. I know it’s hard to believe, but, the Child-Molestors brag that the films are quite popular among child-molesters and child-porn purveyors. Go figure…

  He teased me about the children I’d recently slain for them, we’ll get into that later. Then he bragged about the good times he and the gang had at my expense recently. He said something like. “Don’t you remember? We drugged you and tortured you for weeks and we didn’t let you sleep”?

  My answer? Prepare to laugh reader, all of the… cops do. “No”.

  “I can’t believe you don’t remember. We took you to the St. Louis prison where”… He described the local recently defunct prison where they’d kept the guy society will call Serial Rapist as the place I was tortured. “We did you "Stallone Style". We drugged you & locked you in a cell and told you you got life in prison and kept you awake for weeks. It was hilarious when you begged to sleep because we told you you had to stand up and tell us your name and social security number every half hour but we woke you up every five minutes until you lapsed into a coma”.

  “I searched my memory and answered him. “I thought it was just a dream”.

  “We thought you might say that so I was sent to remind you that we tortured you for weeks. Man, we tortured you until you were delirious and then we let you lose in public and you said and did a lot of strange stuff”. Then his voice changed to contempt. “You wrecked things and you hurt people. Lots of people and we filmed the entire thing and now we’ve got tons of witnesses who’ll testify against you in court”.

  Yeah, I recalled. You see reader, ever since I was a child, when I dared to close my eyes and perchance dream, I, yes I, the author of this website, I was a scoundrel’s scoundrel when I dreamed. To quote myself decades earlier in a Bay City Public School bathroom. “I’m the killingest killer around in my dreams and Jerk knows it”. Why is that a problem you ask reader? I'm glad you asked. The reason any of it is a problem is because my gang-banger stalkers enjoy kidnapping, raping, and torturing me on a drug(s?) that have the side-effect of making a person think they're dreaming. The gang have made the entire situation epic in scale, in the toll of human lives, property, and liberty by drugging me, torturing me into delirium, and then trying to keep me placid during torture by using phrases like. "Calm down! You're dreaming"! The horror reader… the horror…

  Even worse? I’ll say it bluntly and with as few words as possible for the simple among my readers. When the Child-Molestors drugged me and filmed the results thereof, guys like Duh Jerk, Duh Weasel, and their child-killing buddies like The Gym Teacher were able to show the films, point at me, and say ‘the guy’s a scumbag”. Simply put, when we were alone in a room together, the gang & their stable of dirty cops & I, those… "career criminals told me, yes ME that they felt that THEY were the white knights in the room. That I was just getting what was coming to me because I was such a scumbag. I've been called a Nazi, a Klansmen, a liberal, a conservative, a liar, a cheat, and even endured the insult of "serial-killer" before and after torture by their gang-members and their stable of weak-minded and easily manipulated would-be vigilantes. Horror is my life…

  “I don’t believe that I was even in that prison. All I ever saw was a long hallway with some doors and a cafeteria that could’a been a school cafeteria”.

  “I can't believe you don't remember. We took you all over the prison grounds while you were off drugs so we could cement where it happened in your memory. No it was the St. Louis prison alright. How do you think we got your Serial Rapist sent there? We run the organized crime in the area. Why do you think we got your _ _ _ _ _ _ (honor honor honor) to order you to go visit him there? As soon as you walked through the doors we’d have had some lifers start a riot and kill you. They’re already looking at life so they don’t care who they kill for us and they’ll do it for a few dollars”.

  Angrily I used deduction on him. “I don’t believe it was for weeks. Ya know, this ain’t like the old days when you could kidnap me for weeks and no one would miss me. I have responsibilities now. I take care of a blind guy and he’d tell me if I was missing for even an hour, let alone a week. I run games a few days a week. Someone would tell me if I didn’t show up for a few weeks”.

  He agreed. “We couldn’t do it without your friends. They’re one of us”.

  "Bulls@#!. You’re just saying that to make my story more unbelievable".

  “Oh yeah? Tell me. When you lost 100 lbs in a month did any of them even bring it up? We told them not to mention it to you. Man, friends notice when someone loses 10lbs in a month and you lost 100lbs in a month a few times and none of your friends ever brought it up once. Did they”?  I searched my memory. The score? One half-truth at least.

  Your only problem is that you wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a real friend because we’ve made sure that your friends were always our people. You’ve never had a real friend in your life because we’ve stalked you your entire life. You’ve never known real friendship because we’ve always gotten to your friends first”.

  “I knew real friendship. A few of my friends lasted for only a few weeks and I know they had nothing to do with you guys”.

  “Why do you think they quit hanging out with you? Because when you made a new friend your other friends found out about it and told us about them and we went there with some of our pictures. You’ve never had a real friend in your life. No one has ever stood up for you, have they”?

  “Some of the kids in the gym stood up for me”.

  “Where are they now”?

  He shut me up.

   “Didn’t you ever notice none of your friends ever wanted to talk about us and changed the subject as soon as possible whenever you mentioned us? We told them to do that”.

  “Bulls@#!”.

  “Oh yeah? Tell me. When was the last time you ever had a long talk with one of your friends about us? Man, friends talk about each other’s problems and listen. Yours never did. Did they”?

  The score… another half-truth, minimum. You see reader, it doesn’t matter if what the Child-Molestors says is true or not to… the cops. Remember their boasts to me. “All we have to do is tell our victims a bunch of lies and when they don’t pan out the cops will never believe them”.

  The… cops opinion on the subject can be found in the “Quotes” section of this website. “No one would lie like that”. According to most… cops I’ve talked to. Child-Molestors are unfailingly honest and ethical in nearly all ways. Sure, they have a few bad apples, and the… cops know it because of their training. But as for a Child-Molestor, or even a mundane, non-gangbanger, otherwise wholesome child-molester (wholesome to the… cops I've talked to in any event) acting like a jerk, stalking someone, or (gasp!) lying repeatedly to someone well, their quote say it all. “No. But I know they wouldn’t lie like that”.

  I’m in pain from the gang’s last torture session, I just want the pain to stop.

 

  WHY ARE YOU OBEYING ME???

  Sooo... there I was, quite a few times but I choose to tell you about the time it happened when I was 11, it was during that "first week". My gang-raping torture session/mess with a child's head for weeks session I endured in early spring of 1977 between the mind-curdling moments of pure terror in the "gym". I'd been awake for weeks, raped and tortured in shifts, and Duh Jerk had told me to do this and that mundane task for him. After I'd done them, in the presence of my mass-child-murderers he asked me. "Why are you obeying me"?

  I answered him, "Because my bible says 'slaves obey your masters".

  "Okay. Then I order you to ___(insert perverse sexual act here)___".

  In the years to come I would add this saying to the mix. "The bible says to obey your masters but not as menpleasers. I have to obey you and do what you tell me but as soon as you tell me to do any sick sex stuff the bets are off and I can try to escape". Hey, cut me some slack reader, I was 11 and hadn't slept in weeks and was on some drug(s?). Sheesh!

  The Child-Molestors brag something fierce that the films that quoted bible verse enabled them to make about us will be my undoing and their salvation all in one!

 

  "NOW YOU HAVE TO KILL AN INNOCENT OF MY CHOOSING"... Circa 1987...

  Why his choosing you ask reader? Because, in the beginning of the Bunga-Bunga Garage tortures my stalkers worded the sentence like this. "Now you have to kill an innocent victim for me or the pain wont end".

  At first, I simply told them. "No". Then, for a few years, several abductions later, and after much torture, I changed my answer to... "Sure. I'll kill someone. But only someone of my choosing". Eh, I figured there were plenty of jerks out there who presented better targets than some random innocent did.

  So Duh Jerk, then his gang re-worded thier demands. After the dunkings ended, while I gasped for air they'd often word it. "Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".

  I refused. Sometimes I asked. "Why"?

  "Because with my films of you killing innocent people no one is ever going to believe your accusations about the gym".

  It's redundant to point out the obvious, but I said. "I quit accusing you guys about the gym a long time ago. Nobody believes me so why bother"?

  "In case you ever do try to bring up the gym again to the cops".

  "Why would I want to go through all that humiliation again? The cops think the gym is the funniest thing on earth".

  Yeah yeah yeah, torture... rape... sleep deprivation... beatings... no food... and all the water I could breath were taking a toll.

  The madmen worked in shifts... "Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing". Was repeated between moments of applied pain.

  It was in the Defunct Hospital, one of the rooms formerly meant for mercy and healing that the gang was torturing me today. Towering jocks and the 4 Stars administered pain while the ever-smiling madman Duh Jerk stood by watching and directing the insanity. "Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".

  "No! I wont do it"! I said between gasps of air. Over and over.

  Eh, later I'd said yes, and their "fun with blanks" began, mixed with some random live ammo exercises in-between. They liked to put real bullets in the gun sometimes. Eh, go figure.

  When I asked, why would they be so stupid as to put real ammo in the gun sometimes they told me that they didn't fear death "because of the coke".

  The pain continued and they had some girl strapped into a chair, waiting for me, ME to kill her for them. Me...

  "Now you have to kill an innocent of my choosing".

  The "pistol, a revolver was on the table amid the torture implements. The gang was prepping the next torment when I noticed they'd gotten sloppy. No one was in arm's length of me Save Duh Jerk. So I lunged for the pistol, grabbed it! Then grabbed Duh Jerk and forced my head alongside of his! Then, while pointing the trigger at both of our temples I pulled the trigger! CLICK!

  Yeah, we all fought! I lost. When they prepared to drug me anew to await the new horrors of torture Duh Jerk promised he angrily insulted me and what I'd tried to do (in my defense, I was on drugs, sleep deprived, and not in any mood to play their games).

  I told him. "It's the thought that counts".

  "But you would've died too"! He angrily pointed out.

  "If it'd saved the life of one innocent it would'a been worth it".

  Duh Jerk never stood so close to me again during torture unless I was restrained or seriously doped up.

  As the author I feel duty-bound to point out what was and is my opinion on suicide.

  If I were an a plane with the 400 greatest minds who ever lived, and those people were on their way to solve all of mankind's problems. War, famine, pestalence, disease, crime, and answer every riddle and mystery of man...

  If I only had a week to live...

  If that jet were about to crash without the possibility of anyone surviving...

  If there was only one parachute...

  I, me, I would get that parachute. Notice, I didn't say I'd try to get the parachute. I know that I would get that parachute, such is my will to live.

  Gosh... I hope we never get to test the theory out in real life. Gulp!

 

  HELP... YEAH, RIGHT...

  Sooo... there I was circa 1988, this Bay City... cops said he'd write a report regarding my claims and go straight to the gang and ask them if they would really, really do these bad things to me... alone.

  I tried to warn him.

  Later, at my next gang-rape, the gang told me everything I told him in detail and submitted it as proof that they'd recruited him.

  To date no... cop has ever helped me. They've kidnapped me, raped me, robbed me, plotted against me, lied about me and pulled me over in excess of 100 times at least. No one who's ever done anything to me has ever been stopped, nor even spoken to on my behalf... ever. Now that I suspect my impending doom is near I'd like to formally ask the Bay City Michigan... cops (or their Boulder Colorado counterparts) how I should go about sucking? Only because I suspect they suck more than any police force and with better quality. When I approach my kidnappers should I keep my head level? Lips puckered? Head tipped up a little? Maybe approaching the goal with lips already puckered is a social no no? I don't know, could you guys give me some advice? I asked please?

  I asked a Bay City... cop for help. What an idiot I was! Sheesh!

  I asked a Boulder Colorado... cop for help. Yeah, I am that stupid!

  I asked a Oak Park... cop for help. Yeah, I AM that dumb!

  I begged a Sandusky... cop for aid. Yup, silly silly me!

  I begged a US Navy N.I.S. agent for help. Idiotic me!

  I begged a US Navy Master at arms for help. Dopey me!

  I begged a Saginaw... cop for help. What a simpleton I was!

  I begged the F.B.I. for help. I am that much of a dumb ass!

  I begged the Department of Homeland Security for help. I was a moron!

  I pleaded with a... cop in the fine state of Pennsylvania. Yup schtupidlidity on my part!

  I begged an Osceola... cop for help. Dumbdiddlydumb of me!

  I begged the Michigan State police for help. My rectum might never be the same. I suppose it was a Michiganuscopus Rectificationally Adjunctified me that did it!

  Sooo... next I begged the Flint cops for help. I was an airhead!

  I pleaded with the Canadian police, It was just me acting dumb & dumber I'd suppose.

  I begged the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for help. Yup, I'm not very bright at all.

  I turned my attention to Great Britain. Yes siree, I begged the Bobbies for help. Roll out the Perry Mason music. "Dum! Dum! Dum! DUM"! That's just me.

  Yupppers, I begged the fine police forces of India for help. Schtupid is as schtupid does, schtupid me.

  Eh, so I begged New Zealand's fine police for aid. I am the Master Of Wasting Time! Uhhh... nothing to brag about.

  Begged a few Nigerian cops for aid. Now I've gotten a letter, allegedly from the F.B.I. (yeah, right) telling me to have nothing to do with them whatsoever. Dopey, dopey me.

  I've contacted a bazzillion rape crisis centers, rape shelters, rape advocates, the media. I guess it proves who's who, my rapist stalkers or me. Eh, we'll see who gets in the last word because history isn't written yet.

  Every bit of it is a wierdism if there ever was one.

  Whatever...

 

 

 

                MASS MURDER MADE EASY... For fun & profit...

 

 

 

  HOW TO KIDNAP RAPE TORTURE & SLOWLY KILL CHILDREN FOR FUN & PROFIT... IMPRESS YOUR FRIENDS, BE THE FIRST ON YOUR BLOCK TO HAVE A SYRINGE WITH 30 NOTCHES TODAY!!!

  A few years ago I was slapped awake by Duh Jerk. I was tied down to a hospital bed in what looked like a very spacious room in a private dwelling. An I.V. was in my right arm and assorted jocks were here & there about the room.

  Duh Jerk, the guy the Child-Molestors brag intends to say is my friend... employer... or lover announced his eternal hatred of me. It was his intention that I die a slow & painful death as revenge for everything I'd cost him.

  Then he called in a nurse. He produced a bag of blood, like many doners commonly use. He announced it was filled with aids tainted blood. That amoung the many horrors he's inflicted upon me, wounds that may never heal to my body & soul. He intended to add a lingering death by aids to the list. "With the films I've got of you, when you die of aids it'll be proof that you're a pervert and their isn't a cop in the world who'll listen to you". Then he ordered the nurse to add the blood to the I.V.

  I watched in horror as the syringe was prepared, as the nurse prepared to inject it into the I.V. that whas already dripping who knows what clear-colored solution into my veins? While I struggled I looked at Du Jerk & shouted. "What?! You haven't got the guts to do it yourelf?! You've got to have someone else do it"?!

  Angrily Duh Jerk seized the needle & roughly injected it into the I.V.

  I kept struggling while the red liquid flowed inside of me.... The horror... the horror...

  Time passes...

  I went to the local city free clinic & got a S.T.D. & A.I.D.S test, along with Bunny Girl and waited nervously for the results.

  The results were negative. So I resumed, like usual, what I thought was the short time I had left to live. Like usual...

  A braggart Child-Molestor soon came by. He said I had Aids & the test had confirmed it. Duh Jerk had ordered the cripple to lie to me for his own sadistic reasons. "If you have aids you can get social security & Jerk doesn't want you to have any financial help. He wants you here". He went on to say that of course the gang owned the woman. She, like other Dr.s who deal in S.T.D.s & skin conditions eventually crossed the Child-Molestors so they recruited her to shut her up. "Since she's pretty & a cripple she's an unapproachable witness in court. No jury is going to believe you over her because she's a cripple".

  The last snitch bragged on the subject. He said my Dr., a nurse practitioner I believe had been ordered to get Aids-tainted blood in my blood type by Duh Jerk & chickened out, being that the group knows that whoever might slay me is a dead man. He claimed the Dr. gave me undiseased blood & fled to their chapter in Pheonix Arizona. He claimed the clinic girl was innocent all along, they only knew about the situation because I'd dragged Bunny Girl along.

  Rapists of America! ARE YOU LISTENING? I'll give you a nickel's worth of free advice (don't ever say I never gave you anything). It was a child who told me about the Child-Molestor's infallible plan. You might want to look up the word "infallible". It means it always works. What is it? You might want to sit down if you've ever served in a mid-Michigan police force, to prevent injury from being stunned by logic. Their plan is.... Their infallible plan is.... "We like to tell our victims two [or more, lots more] stories because the cops will never believe a victim with 2 stories".

  Yeah... whatever...

 

 

  ESPIONAGE, RAPE, TORTURE, & REVENGE, WHY DIDN'T YOU GO TO THE... COPS???

  Sooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax, circa 1888 when I found myself being tortured in the Defunct Hospital, a place

formerly made for healing and well being that was now the gang's inner sanctum of pain and horror where I'll bet many of thier

victims lost not only their virginity, but for some their sanity and for others their very lives! I picture them just walking along without

a care in the world, and then, in a moment of time after their torture their souls dropped one by one into hell to begin thier eternity

of torture at the hands of those who had dropped into hell before them. The Child-Molestors suck!

  Duh Jerk oversaw the 4 Stars torture of myself. Unusual only that in times past the quartet tried to not hit my face nor leave

lasting wounds. Today blows to all parts of my body rained down on me from the 4. Duh Weasel, Fagboy, Short Stuff, and The Mayor's Brat who spent most of his time manning the ever-present camera. POW! BAM! Blow after blow hit me.

  Yeah, I fought. I was as weak as a kitten both from their drug(s?) and from the torture and my blows were like nothing.

  Fagboy yelled. "TELL US NAVY SECRETS"!  Then he hit me a few times and tossed me to Shortstuff!

  Short Stuff demanded! "WE KNOW YOU KNOW SECRET STUFF FROM WHEN YOU WERE IN THE NAVY! TELL US NOW"! Then he beat me and tossed me to the Mayor's Brat.

  The Mayor's Brat beat me down to the ground and demanded that I tell him U.S. Navy secrets I'd been privy to when I was in a

secret electronics program. Later we discussed the aspects of the 3 inch 50 Cal guns I'd been assigned to.

  I refused and soon Duh Weasel pounded on me. They took turns. Yeah I fought, it sucked...

  Duh Jerk, who was sporting a cane said the entire session was revenge because I'd caused him to be crippled.

  I told him his boy had told me it was his Russian spymasters who'd crippled him, not me.

  Grinning from ear to ear he said. "Oh, you know about that"?

  "Yeah. But only because you sent the guy to tell me".

  Duh Jerk acted like a halo appeared over his head and he was unable to contain his smile when he plead innocence to me.

  More pain and time drags on...

  Duh Jerk acted like a halo appeared over his head and he was unable to contain his smile when he plead innocence to me. More pain and time drags on...  Time passes.. The shift of the questioning chances. Now the 4 Stars want to know about shipboard security and any details I know about base security, particularly on ways to get onto the base.

  I played it like I knew nothing or very little, like I had no idea who or what they were talking about. So they told me what they knew. They already knew the number of guards, who stood where, patrol times, and how to gain access to where. It seemed like they wanted to get me to say these things & elaborate on them.

  I refused. The pain continues...

  Now the questions shifted to a new subject. The gang wanted to know all I knew about shipboard security that I'd learned in an anti-terrorist school taught by the USMC. SHIP'S SELF DEFENSE TRAINING COURSE (LFTC-4508) CONDUCTED AT Naval Amphibious Base, Little Creek, Norfolk Virginia Commanded by Colonel J.L. Mikkelson USMC.

  They wanted to know about security techniques, crowd control, and most importantly. What I learned there about making and deploying bombs, how to organize a terrorist cell, and who I suspected was working for the gang while I was a guard at various naval bases. They were particularly interested in the Navy's new Phalanx gun. What caliber it was, what was it's range, what types of ammunition did it use, did it have any targeting vulnerabilities such as failure to operate in certain weather conditions or during certain natural phenomena, what were the limits of it's targeting against terminal diving missiles and what if anything I may have overheard from my fellow students who were in the more advanced Phalanx classes than I? "When does the Navy plan to deploy it's new Phalanx with overhead targeting to counter terminal diving missiles"?

  I told them nothing, at first... Soon, my mind entered into a state of pure delirium. Dosed by who knows what and having been tortured for who knows how long, the gang simply set me down in a living room and calmly asked me whatsoever they would on all of the above subjects and my dazed mind answered their every question to the best of my ability, politely.

  ...

  ...

  Sooo... there I was, walking the streets of the Homosexual Rape Capital of America, uhhh... oops, the streets of Bay City Michigan when a snitch came to chat with me. He claimed he'd been sent by Duh Jerk himself and he wanted to ask me a question by proxy. "Why didn't you go to the cops"?

  I figured I should've blown that punk off right there but it amused me to answer the question. "Because I wasn't stupid enough to go to the cops with a Russian spy story". Frankly, I knew better.

  "We beat the hell out of you. So Jerk kept you on ice for a month until all of your wounds healed. Man, we got you to talk about all kinds of technical stuff from the navy and we've got the films of you going on and on about it".

  "Do you remember any dreams you had where you were working for the Russians in a spy ring"? Then he snickered. "Man, that was us. Our drug makes a person think they're dreaming and we've got tons of footage of you thinking you're working for the Russians as a spy and we can't wait to show them to a jury". He went on to explain the logistics of the skits I endured after having been kept awake for weeks on end and tortured.

  "Jerk sent me because he wanted to tip his hat to you. We figured you'd go to the cops with the story and we'd be done with you but you never went to the cops".

  "Because I knew better than to go to the cops with a "I got tortured because of the Russians story".

  "You were right about one thing. Jerk was faking having a limp".

  "He got the leg he was supposed to be limping with wrong during the torture" I added.

  "You know, we only tortured you like that to get you to go to the cops and tell them Jerk was spying for the Russians.

  "Yeah, I know. But you can tell Jerk that I'll bet that torturing someone and asking them to reveal military secrets is espionage whether you really wanted to know military secrets or not. Besides, you guys tortured me and I discussed classified things about the guns and the ship. I'll bet that's espionage whether you meant to be a spy or not".

  "It's okay because you didn't know anything top-secret or anything".

  "Yeah. But I know stuff that's classified as "classified" by the Navy and we talked about that kinda stuff for a long time. I'll bet it's still espionage whether you wanted to know the stuff or not because we talked about classified stuff at length and in detail".

  "We ain't worried. Not with all our films of you talking about navy secrets at our parties".

  "Yeah, parties where you guys jumped me and drugged me over and over every time I became lucid".

  Decades pass...

  The Last Snitch brought up the subject again. He told me that there'd been no Russian connection, it'd been made up to make my story seem ludicrous and that the Child-Molestors were very disappointed that their prodding had not gotten me to go to the police about the subject. He added that one day I would have to bring the subject up, and it would be my undoing.

  "Because there isn't a group of madmen in the entire world smart enough to come up with that outrageous of a lie huh"? I had to ask.

  "Yeah". "During our fake trial our dirty cops went from house to house interviewing all of the possible witnesses and the kids from the gym. The main problem we found was that our people smiled when the cops brought up the espionage part of the story because they knew it was all faked. So Jerk has told them that the first one to smile when the cops talk to them about it dies".

  All I, the author will say about the entire subject is on the line below.

  Whatever...

 

  THE EXACT CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE... The world according to Child-Molestors...

  Sooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax when a Child-Molestor braggart approached me. He had a lot to brag about. Yous see...  they'd drugged me and got me to sit in the midst of their gang of rapists before, after, and even during torture and I'd acted nice. When? I've heard versions of said boast every few years my entire life. Go figure...

  "I was on drugs. What can I do about it"? I asked

  "Not this time". I heard time and again over the decades. "We set up a hidden camera and we got you to talk about the various situations we've put you through over the years and you never mentioned us once". Thus, as the Child-Molestor saying goes, since

I failed to acknowledge them as the center of my universe, their films would one day be destined to make... cops ignore me.

  My reply? "Man, you guys aren't the center of the universe. I've heard that one of the best ways to get even with your enemies is to ignore them".

  A couple of other times they bragged. "We set up a hidden camera and got you to talk about us and you talked good about us".

  With a sigh I had to admit. "I can't help it, I'm contrary. Some of those times I recognized they guys doing the filming and I know that your group thrive off of confrontation and the insults of your victims. The other times I was trying to make a new friend when they brought you guys up and telling people you just met 'oh yeah, they keep kidnapping me and f_ _ _ _ _ _ me in the a _ _ and making me kill little kids is not conducive to making new friends. Besides. I like to ignore you guys and the stories were much better without mentioning you guys. Besides, I have no idea what parts you're actually involved in and what parts are just a practical joke anyway".

  The exact center of the universe. From top to bottom the gang brag that it is their victim's own conversations that will damm them in front of a jury. Insult the Child-Molestors and you're just a jerk who wants to insult people who only want to bring pleasure to the world. Accuse them and you're just a liar who's continuing film career (and seemingly being paid by them on film) is proof that you're a liar who's reconciled with them and is just another disgruntled employee. Ignore them and you give them no leverage.

  "One of these days we'll all be in court and we'll all have a chance to talk about it in the open".

  I actually made that self-admitted baby-raper shudder.

 

   WHO? HOW? WHERE? I HAVE NO IDEA. MY PROBLEM? THEY TELL ME THAT THEY INTEND TO BRAG I LET THEM "FOR THEIR COKE"...

  Where was I just a few years ago? I can't say. All I know was that I was in a business building of some sort. School? Company? Maybe even a local church? Idano.

  We, we being several 18 year olds, mostly males walked from room to room while the sadistic young woman lead me, and delivered a slap! SLAP!

  Of course, I got angry. But I was on who knows what drug(s?)? So I protested.

  The young men laughed at my misfortune.

  The girl pointed at me and angrily told me. "Do you want some Coke? Then you'd better calm down"!

  The young men laughed all the more.!

  Then she bid me to follow her down the hallway which I did for a few steps.

  Then she slapped me!

  The young men laughed at my misfortune.

  The girl pointed at me and angrily told me. "Do you want some Coke? Then you'd better calm down"!

  The young men laughed all the more.!

  Then she bid me to follow her down the hallway which I did for a few steps.

  Then, the girl slapped my face!

  I protested.

  The young men behind me laughed at my pain.

  The girl pointed at me and angrily told me. "Do you want some Coke? Then you'd better calm down"!

  The young men laughed all the more.!

  Then she bid me to follow her down the hallway which I did for a few steps.

  Do you get the picture reader?

  Set your wayback machines....

  Pain... Humiliation... Its what they do. Its who they are. They bragged that now its been done to me in a myriad of new and ever more perverse ways based upon the popular film "Jackass"! "Now with our films of us torturing you in the theme of Jackass and you coming back for more the cops will never listen to you".

  Yeah, whatever...

  ...

  The bragging last snitch asked me to recall a joke I'VE TOLD TIME AND AGAIN FOR DECADES. Yup! Me. Wanna hear it reader? As if one more example would cnvince skeptics to even give me half a chance. Here goes...

  ...

  ...

  My joking confession is this... I'm a Coke addict. Yup! Me reader. Me.

  SO the Last snitch bragged. "Do you remember all those times that you bragged that you were a Coke addict"?

  I told him. "Yeah. DIET COKE"!

  He replied. "I know. But you've joked about being a Coke addict a ton of times and we've a filmed you talking about it a few times. We've even tied you up and then tortured you and then when you protest we tell you its for the Coke and then we dose you accordingly".

  I replied. "Yeah, but I am a Diet Coke addict. A few times I had to choose between food or Diet Coke and I chose Diet Coke".

  "We've tricked you into asking for Coke on film and then we've given you some on film. We can bust you for cocaine any time we want. Do you remember all of your role-playing game notes where the players sold drugs in your games? We have those notes and our people are prepared to say that you were the drug kingpin in exchange for a reduced sentence. You really should've used the word Diet more often when you ask for Coke".

  "People tease you when you use the word Diet. 'What? are you on some kinda diet"?

  "We've got films of you asking for Coke. You do know that the cops can arrest you now simply asking for Coke don't you"?

  "Yeah".

  "We've got films of you asking for Coke and talking about number...

  ...

  Here, I shall address the reader. I've personally heard tons of subtil variations on the theme. Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! Perversion! Perversion! Perversion! Combine that with their films and they brag they have a winning formula to kidnap rape and torture me for life and the... cops are going to help them do it!

  Yeah yeah yeah. The... cops I've talked to all tell me that they are all way too smart to be so easily manipulated.

  Yeah, whatever...

Perversion!       

WEIRDISMS... And other nonsense... A whole lotta of raping & killing going on... cops included...

No lesson learned... it's just a Wierdism...

  A wierdism is a true story that tells no moral and adds nothing to the writers tale. It's just a wierd but true event that a human-being once endured, nothing more. Sooo... I thought I'd chime in again with a wierdism that makes no sense whatsoever. Here goes...

 

  G.I. Joe with the kung-fu grip...

  My _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) up and made an announcement out of the blue. "Where is your G.I. Joe"?

  Me? I knew exactly where it was, so I went into our basement to get it at her unusual command. I couldn't find it anywhere.

  She promised me great amounts of pain based on if I fond it or not.

  Though I searched up and down, My G.I. Joe was nowhere to be found.

  Time passes...

  My nameless self-professed child-rapist and torturer and all around jerk My Cousin asked me about my G.I. Joe one day at my

_ _ _ _ _ _'s Parent's place?

  I found it unusual at best that we were even discussing such a subject. So I told him it was indeed gone.

  My Cousin told me. "I had Serial Rapist steal it from you and he brought it to me hidden in a bag today".

  I pondered what he'd just said & Serial Rapist had indeed carried a paper bag that day of appropriate bulk. I asked him why he would do such a thing to a child?

  "Just to be mean". He'd done it for cruelty's sake alone, nothing more. "I paid Serial Rapist fifty bucks for it".

  My reaction was something like, so what?

  "Remember that kid who just beat you when your _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) lined everyone up and told them to hit you"?

  "Yeah". I was required to answer his every question or suffer grave punishment.

  "I gave it to him because he's one of us. I just wanted you to know that a child-molestor has your toy. How does that make you feel"? He asked with broad smile.

  "So what". It was pretty low on the totem pole of what he'd done to me. It didn't bug me... much.

  "Aren't you going to attack me"? He asked with a smile.

  I hadn't considered the option... So in a moment of time I pondered the pros and cons of attacking him. As a Christian it just didn't seem like the right thing to do and on top of that I judged it was just stupid to fight someone 2 to 3 times my body weight over so trivial a matter as a G.I. Joe with the Kung-Fu grip.

  He dropped his smile. "That's not how you reacted when we drugged you and took your G.I. Joe away from you". His smile returned as he spoke. he told me that My _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) had drugged me and handed me over to the gang's tender mercies for profit for a few weeks. Between rapes the gang honed and practiced a scenario that would get me to attack them, on demand, on film for skeptics to be able to prove I was violent. "It worked over and over when you were drugged. Don't you remember"?

  "Yeah. Why do I remember it so poorly"? I had to ask.

  "I always drug my victims when I torture them so the cops will tell them they're crazy when they complain to them".

  "We chatted some more about how much he liked it, I chatted about an angry God whom I believed in who would one day make a reckoning with him about how he treated myself and other children. He told me he knew he was damned, he was just too set in his ways to change. Ultimately he asked me. "Why didn't it work"? Why hadn't the scenario they'd planned and practiced worked? It always works when practiced to perfection. Why not this time?

  Because I thought I was dreaming [while on thier drug(s?)] and the way I act when I think I'm dreaming isn't how I act when I act when I think I'm awake". At one point I had to ask why he wanted me to attack him?

  He told me he planned to feign being a helpless old man and call the many lumberjack sized men in the next room to save him and they'd've cheerfully broken my body into pieces for the camera hidden in that very room. Then he would've shown the cops his edited footage, released a few films, and come out smelling like a hero... I mean rose. Some of the men in the next room seconded that with pleasure they'd have beat me to putty, they'd seen the films and it was proof enough for them that I was the scumbag in the building. "Don't you recognise any of those guys"? He pointed at them. "A few of them were the guys who tortured you for a few weeks".

  "Man, we raped you over and over for weeks". One added with a smile.

  My Cousin looked disgusted. "Still not attacking? Hmph! It worked when you were on our drug. You attacked us every time"

  I pondered that too, he was right, I had attacked during their drugged skits... and lost. That didn't make the plan of attacking these giants among men seem any more appealing.

  "Now the footage of you being nice to them will be added to our films as proof you guys are all great friends. How doesw that make you feel? Do you want to attack me"? He asked with a smile.

  "No".

  "Too bad. WELL, PACK IT UP BOYS! THE PLAN DIDN'T WORK". The house became a flurry of activity as men left disappointed grabbing hidden cameras as they went. I could see front door guards, back door guards, and the main troops all moving from thier positions and leaving. They're disappointed because we promised them a big bonus if they actually got to fight you today".

  "Phht! You wouldn't've paid them a nickle if you had footage of them attacking a little kid and I know it".

  "I know that. But they didn't know that". A few of the Kid-Crunchers paused as they passed us while heading for the door, having overheard that part of the conversation. My Cousin looked at them, pointed at the front door, and said. "Keep moving, we'll talk about this later". He lamented how disappointed he was I hadn't attacked him.

  "I wasn't about to give you film footage of me attacking you so you could show it to the cops".

  He smiled all the more. "That's okay. I've still got all of the films from when we got you to attack us over and over from when we tortured you for the cops". He added. "I'm going to order your _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) to punish you for losing your G.I. Joe because you were so disrespectful".

  Later, I asked the guy I suspect society will call Serial Rapist about it and he denied everything. Serial Rapist came into some cash that day.

  Thus ends the tale, the weirdism of G.I. Joe with the kung-fu grip...

  BUT _ _ _(HONOR HONOR HONOR)! HE KEEPS DRUGGING ME AND TRICKING ME INTO KILLING PEOPLE!!! Yeah, whatever...

 

  Life could get kinda weird for me back in the 70s, thus, it's written on this webpage as a weirdism. A true tale of the strange and the bizarre inflicted upon me, nothing more. Here goes...

  Sooo... there I was, minding my own beeswax at my _ _ _ _ _ _'s Parent's place when My Cousin walked up, beer symbolically in hand and began to rant about, uh... I can't recall at the time of this writing. The why is unimportant, the what is what I'm writing about. He was bragging about his last murders, with me in the starring role, his films and how he and his buddies could and would do whatsoever they wanted to me for the rest of my life because of them.

  It was the beginning of a typical gauntlet, you know, the build up to violence, the escalation that most people need to ease thier sensibilities as few people are hard-wired to go from a resting stop to inflicting pain on a child for an hour solid.

  Sooo, it was escalating. My Cousin, furious at being called a liar (typical accusation on my part, you'd think he'd get used to it, it wasn't like we were in a crowd as before). My wild-eyed Cousin was furious at my lack of respect. "Most of the kids I torture have become nodding yes-men with half the torture I've applied to you"! Yep, I tended to tick him off. "I'm going to order your _ _ _ _ _ _ (honor honor honor) to beat you"! Another gauntlet, more pain.

  Sooo... she showed up and he ordered her to begin a gauntlet. That and that she should hand me over to him promptly...

  She escalated, anger, emotion, all leading to the inevitable gauntlet I would soon endure at the hands of children and the crowd of adults who were beginning to arrive having just been out of earshot. She informed me, I would soon be his guest, after another very justified gauntlet. A gauntlet with adults alone was an extremely painful event for me in the 70s and this time the kids were not invited.

  So I protested. "But _ _ _ (Honor, honor, honor) he keeps drugging me and tricking me into killing people"!

  Her eyes opened wide and she, well they both stammered out a denial for the benefit of those in attendance. She's a very cool cucumber and absolutely composed in the face of accusation, usually. This time the pair were flustered and self-apologetic denying any accusations, implied or otherwise in an almost frantic persecuted way. I'd never seen either of the pair lose their cool before and I feared much for my health and safety as they apologized on and on (to the crowd, not to me) based on my single sentence while I stood in silence and marveled at the situation before me.

  Then, the pair beat a hasty retreat, the crowd of gauntlet enthusiasts left disappointed, and I was left standing alone in her parent's kitchen to ponder the situation before me.

  The only thing weird about it was, that once promised, a gauntlet usually proceeded even if my innocence was established. This time, I had been guilty of calling My Cousin a liar. I was in shock. I had called an adult a liar, and gotten away with it? Unprecedented!

  A weirdism does not further a story nor does it teach a moral.

  A weirdism if there ever was one...

  IN THE FUTURE...

  There I was, minding my own beeswax when a boasting self-declared "Jerk sent me snitch" walked up on me. He had something he wanted to say about my mid-1980s escape from the group. Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! You're going to pay for this! Pretty typical really. Ya know, the kinda threat that makes... cops giggle. Why'd he threaten me? As if one more story would convince skeptics, here goes...

  I came to tied to a wheelchair by fishing line. Duh Jerk, F.B., a Jock, and a woman they told me was an R.N. were presiding over me. Yeah, I struggled, the funny thing about finishing line is, struggle all you want, the only thing that gets hurt is you.

  So I asked what the gang were going to do to me?

  "We're going to take you from place to place and get people to pay us to rape you on film. Then when we show the cops our films of how much of a pervert you are they'll never believe your accusations about the gym".

  It's always the gym with those guys. You see, back in 1976 the entire male half of the Child-Molestor gang of Bay City came down with an acute case of penis-envy and have never recovered. Sigh... "I quit accusing you guys about the gym a long time ago. The cops don't believe it".

  Well, just in case".

  My opinion? Don't believe a word one of them says. I never have.

  "Why is the girl with you guys"?

  "She's an C.N.A.. She'll pretend she's your personal nurse if the cops catch onto us and she'll drug you if they walk up on us and she'll say you're crazy if you accuse us of kidnapping you".

  We argued back and forth, he produced some authentic looking paperwork saying they owned me legally.

  Eventually he said. "He looks a little too lucid to me. Time to dose him".

  Beg all you want, they won't sterilize a thing before injecting it into your body.

  Time passes, a string of rapes occur, many of them brag they'll be immune to prosecution with Duh Jerk to take the fall if they should get caught, boasting that they will simply tell the cops they had no idea my rape and torture was non-consensual. Intent, provable intent is required during a rape and they can rape their entire lives for free, as long as guys like the expendable Duh Jerk are there to take the heat for'em.

  I came too in public of all places, tied by fishing line to the chair. I cried out!

  The nurse dosed me...

  The above repeats all over some community, with F.B. threatening me like this.

  Once, while biding my time, I asked Fagboy. "Why use fishing line on me"? Surely they had much more secure things to tie me up with.

  "Because the fishing line works and it's invisible from a distance. That way we can film taking you around town in public and if the cops walk up on us our nurse will inject you and I'll cut the fishing line with a few razors I have strapped to the sides of my fingers. They're good for cutting throats too so you'd better shut up".

  Eh, when people came walking up when I was lucid, I cried out for help, that this was a kidnapping. Their nurse promptly injected me and told the witnesses I did this kind of thing all the time without my medication as the world faded away...

  Once, while being carted to the next gang-rape, I saw a cop car drive by! I yelled for help! I was injected as the cops walked up and Fagboy deftly slit the lines restraining me.

  As I wobbled more and more the pair insisted to the... cops I was a patient in transit. Nothing more.

  Fagboy had more proof. "See? Here's his _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor)".

  Yup, my own _ _ _ _ _ _ (Honor honor honor) was there, she insisted, as I began to flop over and the world slipped away, she insisted that this was no kidnapping.

  Yeah, we went from place to place. The gang tell me they call it "Debasing a victim". A victim is taken from place to place and raped by man, child, beast, and appliance... on film, and they pretend to pay them on top of it! Once a victim is thusly debased they can look forward to a life entirely void of police protection. Sad... but true... Eventually, I hatched a plan. You see, You can struggle all you want with tough fishing line and the only thing that it'll do is hurt you by cutting into you. But I noticed they'd left more slack in the line between my wrist and the arm of the wheelchair this time. Thus, I was able to bend the fishing line, kink it really. Eventually, it snapped and I freed myself. Then, I bided my time. I didn't wait long. Soon Fagboy had a chat with the pair about my next gang-rape and it's logistics. He said that he and the 2 big jocks were leaving and that I should be dosed anew and cleaned up for my next gang-rape for profit. I was biting at the chomp and even pondered attacking then but judged it too dangerous, so I waited to see if they'd leave, and leave they did. I heard a car start, and leave. That left only the R.N. and her lone jock and they had their backs to me. When I heard the car leave I slowly got up and approached the man...

  I spun him around and poked him in the eyes! When he grabbed his eyes I kicked his legs out from under him and he fell on his back!

  He laid there and held his hands over his eyes for just a moment!

  So I stomped on his throat with my boots over and over! Actually, when I stomped on his throat the first time he moved his hands to protect his throat so my kicks did little damage except to his hands. So I stomped on his face! He moved his hands to protect his face. So I stomped on his neck! And so on while the C.N.A. stood speechless with a look of pure horror on her face. Eventually, as I alternated face to neck to face to neck his arms went slack and his hands rested beside his neck. So I stomped on his neck a few more times! Then, I turned my attention to my fake caregiver, my kidnapper. She screamed! She screamed for her life with the most blood-curdling scream you can imagine!

  Eventually, I quit pounding on her once beautiful but now disfigured face and cautiously left the warehouse...

  Human life, any human life is a precious thing. The pair had bragged during the quiet times (between gang-rapes) about how they really relished destroying people. Setting people up, destroying who and what they were was a hobby they enjoyed, or so they told me. They felt honored to be part of my destruction and boasted that they planned to do it for a lifetime, I was just next on the list they reveled to accomplish.

  The obligatory snitch told me that the man died, and that the woman was going to undergo extensive and costly facial reconstruction, partly as revenge against me. Now, she would yet again relish the idea of being involved in my destruction. A witness, poster child, and yeah, it was filmed so there is the profits from the film to consider. Now the family of the man was motivated to pergur themselves against me and his friends and Child-Molestors he grew up with would be motivated and... well you get the picture.

  "In the future our films of you being carted around in a wheelchair will be proof that you were crippled and weak and that the gym couldn't possibly have happened". Yeah, I heard versions of that every few years my entire life. Yup, they'll cripple me, and all those films of them carting me from rape to rape in a wheelchair will be proof I was always a cripple, a drug-rummy eager to let them do whatsoever they would in exchange for a fix of whatever drug they think the... cops will want to hear.

  "The cops will never appreciate how many people we've motivated to hate you".

  Yeah, whatever...

  THE GREAT ESCAPE... Yeah, right... No, I didn't go to the... cops. Go figure...

  A weirdism is a true story about a strange situation or event someone has endured. Being that this is on the weirdism page, I thought I'd make the print weird so as to "get a little symbolic". A weirdism teaches no moral nor does it further the writer's story. These are weirdisms if their ever was one...
  It was in the mid 80s that I came to tied to a table in what otherwise looked like the bedroom of any ordinary American lower middle-class home. The only other furnishings were a lone table with books, magazines, assorted pills powders vials & herbs on it, and a lone camera. Duh Jerk, Fagboy, Duh Weasel, , Bay City's own Dirty Cop, and a few Jocks dressed in obligatory black stood over me. You see, the 2 Jerks and their Fagboy wanted to brag about my impending destruction. It seems that they'd amassed an assortment of the child-porn that they'd forced me to star in over the years, created quite a drug-scene, a even keenly placed a few films and even books starring myself killing people. Some of those died only after having had sex with me.
  They'd awakened me to gloat. Now the snickering Duhs, the Jerk And his Weasel took turns bragging about the big police bust about to happen, courtesy of a few well-placed tips to the Bay City... cops. The only problem was, they wanted to put a few more nails in my coffin first. The pair bragged I had to make a few more child-porn flicks, then when the Bay City... cops burst in on an honest bust, and found me surrounded by "the goods" and in the actual act of making a child-porn film, my demise would be assured!
  It was Duh Jerk who opened the door and brought in several little girls, each of whom were too small to get up on the table unassisted. So they assisted them.
  Me? When the girls set out to preform as only young well-trained and indoctrinated rapists can, I resisted! I bucked and I yelled at the camera despite the beatings the men took turns applying.
  Duh Jerk said. "This isn't working. He's getting too bruised up".
  Duh weasel suggested that since one of the little girls who were too short to get on the table unaided was dressed as a dominatrix, why not just have her beat me and thus explain the many wounds by filming a few of them being made?
  "Nah, we'll just drug him stupid and keep on filming". Then he turned to Dirty Cop. "When's the bust going down"?
  At the time of this writing, I the author cant recall his answer because of the drugs I was being forced to endure. But it seemed like it was only a matter of hours.
  I recall Dirty Cop whining that the upcoming bust had already been set in motion and was otherwise unstoppable because it was out of his hands.
  Duh jerk insisted that he think of something to delay the bust because he felt that a film staring me in the clothes I was presently wearing would be powerful evidence against me worth having.
  Dirty Cop told his masters he was pretty sure he could delay the upcoming bust by making some police thingy they'd been otherwise drooling over seemingly come to pass, thus wasting the team's time until the appointed time.
  Beg them all you want, they wont sterilize a thing when they inject you with who knows what? Ironically, they claim that their entire defense is that I like that sort of thing. Jerks!
  POKE! The world becomes a spinning haze of surrealism and child after child is brought in to rape me... on film. As I recall it, I was quite placid and otherwise helpful and courteous. Go figure...
  Time passes...
  ...
  ...
  I came too on that same table, surrounded by pretty much the same people. The gang wanted to gloat one more time, show me a few of the books and films that would destroy me and allow them to forever put "The Gym" behind them, and showcase a few drugs, lest I not know what was there. Dhh Jerk's quote. "I like to keep my victims well-informed. A surprised look is a great defense in court. Nobody will believe a well-informed victim".
  GLOAT! GLOAT! GLOAT! MOCK! Mock. Mock... it was the time of their lives... now they could lay "The Gym" to rest and repay me for the indignity of what happened in a Bay City Public Middle-School in fall of 1976.
  Dirty Cop excused himself, he had to go and make the final preparations for the bust which was unfolding somewhere else even then.
  Then Duh Jerk summoned the little blond girl and they helped her on the table. His instructions were clear. "Ride me" and be ready to frame me as the child-porn kingpin... OR ELSE! Or else she and her family would pay the penalty for failure. But if she succeded in destroying me, she could count on being rewarded as only a Child-Molestor could.
  Me? I told the Little Blond Girl that the only reward she and her family would receive was death. Too many people had died, too many people were involved and she and her family already knew too much. She seemed unimpressed. Eh, they all do... at first... Sigh...
  Duh Jerk announced he was leaving and pronounced his final order, pointing at her he barked a command as he left. "And make sure that you're riding him when the cops find you".
  The little Blond Girl who was too short to mount the table unaided agreed to his terms.

  I even told the jerks that the... cops wouldn't buy it, films with them personally involved would be their undoing.

  The bragging Duh Jerk told me that the parts where they were involved had been edited out of the film, that the Little Blond Girl had already made a film with drugged and otherwise compliant me and that when the... cops arrive to find me it will seem like I was making a child-porn film and the film ran out while I was tied up and the cops arrived to find me tied to the table surrounded by child-porn, snuff films, assorted drugs, and apparently in the very act of pursuing my film career. An airtight case that no jury would ever fail to convict! Case closed and then they could forever put "The Gym" behind them.

 

  "THE GYM! THE GYM! THE GYM! It's always "the gym" with them. Ya know, since way back in fall of 1976 when an entire organized crime gang came down with a case of mass incurable penis-envy. Uhhh... back to the weirdism.


  The snickering perverted gangbangers left the two of us alone.
  Me? I tried reasoning with her, to no avail. Since that didn't work I tried to make her time, at work, as unpleasant as possible by discussing that she was doing stuff that was wrong. That she was working for bad men, that her family would still be hurt no matter what came of today.
  She told me that her main motivation was fear, not reward. She was afraid that Duh Jerk, his Weasel, and Fagboy would hurt her family.
  So I prayed, atheist me prayed to God for strength and for the wisdom to "Get me out of this". Here's what happened...
  ...
  The sounds of police storming the house dominated the scene! Doors slammed! Children screamed! Cops yelled! And there was quite a ruckus as they ran past our room and yelled commands, presumably at someone just down the hall who wasn't acting like they wanted them to. The Little Blond Girl rode on all but hen-pecked by myself.
  The scene wound down, it sounded like the police were rounding up suspect and seemed quite interested in "cuffing the men first" for whatever was their reason.
  Me? I complained to the girl some more, and more, and more. It seemed to me that she was quite amazed that we'd escaped detection this long. So she jumped off the table and opened the door and peeked out into the hallway.
  Things still weren't going the... cops way, they seemed to be... otherwise occupied.
  Me? With the little girl off of me I cried out for help! I'd been embarrassed before. She tried to get back on the table and failed. Once she seemed to be succeeding the climb by grabbing onto me but I shook her off!
  A uniformed Bay City... cop stuck his head in the room and when I told him that this was a kidnapping
  He shushed me and told me to hang on for a moment until they dealt with some uncooperative individual. I begged him not to leave me alone with the girl and he shuttled her out of the room and told her to wait in a nearby room with the others they'd captured.
  Eventually, the Bay City... cops, my "saviors" came into the room and released me from my bindings. I stated my kidnapping case and one of them grabbed a nearby child-porn book and said. Yeah. We'll sort this all out in a few minutes". He claimed to be without cuffs and asked his fellow officers for cuffs.
  His fellow... cops said they'd already used their cuffs on the men and most of the adult women. The subject came up that they should uncuff a woman and cuff me but one of them said it was useless to cuff a non-resisting prisoner when the investigation was winding down and everyone was going to jail soon anyway. "Just put him in the other room with the girls".
  I was escorted to the next room where several of my rapists stood, presumably awaiting prosecution. When the... cops left many of the women and young girls all beamed smiles at me, smug looks of satisfaction.
  Incredibly, I tried to reason with them. What they were doing was wrong, that they were aiding child-rapists and killers to which they replied they were honored to take down someone so hated by the gang. That their upcoming imprisonment, shortened by a willingness to testify against scumbag me, was just the price of doing business in Bay City, in America.
  Well, since that plan wasn't working I hatched a new one. I checked out the outside and could see that it was dark, very dark and that the window faced a very dark alley and that... cop cars were positioned at either end of the alley. The window was protected by an ordinary screen. I figured I should try to jump out of it, but realized that these gals would scream bloody murder if I tried. So I had to throw them off-balance. Since the women and girls were all looking at the room's only door I walked to the doorway and got their attention. Then I put a finger to my mouth and shushed them. Then I popped the screen out of the window and jumped out the first floor window as smoothly as I could and landed unceremoniously in the alley.
  There were... cops everywhere along with witnesses gawking all over the place. I figured that the body language of running away or trying to sneak out of their would tip off the cops so I decided to simply walk up to them and hope that I could get away before them gals behind me started screaming their heads off!
  Sooo... I walked over to the police lines like I was a gawker who'd simply crossed their lines. I peeked in a car and gawked at their stuff.
  The gals, them girls, my rapists still in the room, those formerly off-balance frame-artists began yelling en-mass!
  A uniformed Bay City... cop demanded to know what I was doing?
  When I told him I wanted a better look at the action get told me to leave while his fellow officers fanned out of the building barking orders that they should look for someone who looked like... me!
  So I left...
  The gang was furious, or so said the Child-Molestor tasked with threatening me later. You see, the... cops had been on to one of their child-porn/prostitution brothels for a while, so the gang decided to send everyone to prison and cut their losses. That and it represented a great opportunity to take me down.
  He told me that my escape had caused quite a commotion. The gals had been furious that they were going to prison to facilitate my destruction and here I was escaping. So the loyal Child-Molestors yelled their heads off, alerting the... cops to my escape. Now the entire situation demanded even more revenge.
  I asked him why the gang hadn't simply told the... cops my name and address?
  He said what Duh Jerk bragged for years. If a plan doesn't go 100% the gang does not improvise, they go with the escape plan. Now Dirty Cop had used his position to seize the books and films and the gang would simply use them next time.
  I recall that he added that all those women and little girls had failed the gang as they saw it. Thus, they could expect punishment when they got out of prison.
  "Isn't going to prison punishment enough"? Eh, I had to ask.
  No. They had to be made examples of, both for their failures leading up to the bust and their failure to take me down. He added that now all of those women and little girls surely hated me and would hate me all the more after the gang exacted it's punishment on them based on their failure against me. They would make excellent and highly motivated witnesses in my coming destruction and each gladly participate in whatsoever evil that the gang intended to inflict upon my person with glee.
  I wonder oh ye wise among my readers. I wonder what do you think would have become of me if I would've stayed put and tried to reason with the nice... cops?
  Yeah, whatever...
 

  THE GREAT ESCAPE II... Yeah, right...
  I came to standing upright in the midst of a press of bodies. Men, smiling men about my age and of medium to athletic build were holding me up from all directions in the middle of what otherwise looked like an average lower middle-class family home, though sparsely furnished and decorated at best. Duh Jerk and his Dirty Cop were there and it goes without saying, the curtains were shut. I could tell it was nighttime and could judge by the smirks of satisfaction on everyone present that nothing good was in store for me.
  Duh Jerk announced. "You're probably wondering what's going on here"? With his typical "cat caught the mouse smile". "The reason these men are holding you up is that I'm tired of you escaping from my setups. So I've arranged for Dirty Cop here to arrange a police drug raid and these guy are here to to hold you in place until the cops get here. Once the cops get arrive and have the place surrounded then they'll let you go. When the cops bust you guys they'll find a whole lot of drugs". He held up some plastic bag, about the size of a child's textbook, filled with a white powder of some sort, and pointed to an assortment of pills, powders, & vials, and syringes. He bragged that they'd hidden child-porn in the closets, staring myself (of course) and once the... cops got there his hopelessly blackmailed ganbangers (allegedly being punished for some gang infraction) intended to finger me as their lover and leader. An easy sell with all of the films drugged and sleep-deprived me had recently starred in with them. He guaranteed me a life sentence in prison, and a light sentence for his punished gang-members for turning state's evidence against drug-kingpin me. Case closed! His, and the gang's revenge against me for "The Gym" was to be paid in full. Now!
  Eh, we exchanged a few insults in what has become our custom (note my choice of words... cops, "our custom"). Typical, he and his otherwise loyal victim/members call me random insults, I call them accurate and truthful insults. Go figure...
  Duh Jerk excused Dirty Cop and bid that he set their plan in motion. Allegedly a plan involving him receiving a hot tip from a reliable unidentified reliable source. Reliably...
  Eh, we waited. So I chose to try and work on the hearts and minds of the guys holding me, after struggling proved fruitless while Duh Jerk and his jocks stood and watched.
  The gangbangers told me that they were loyal card-carrying Child-Molestors. They'd screwed up and now had to pay the penalty with prison time. A time that would be made shorter by turning against

me in court. Huh... They loved the gang, they loved sex with children and if any one thing motivated them it was the fact that the gang would provide them with more kids when they got out. Going to prison was something they were prepared to do because they saw it as the price of doing Child-Molestor business in Bay City, in Michigan, in America.
  Time passes...
  ...
  Duh Jerk and his Jocks excused themselves leaving me still standing upright being held by several smiling kidnappers.
  Time passes, but not much...
  ...
  The gang insult me, I try to reason with them, it never works, they love their job.
  Many cars pull up all around the building. Footsteps can be heard outside, lots of'em! One of the gang says. "Okay. Let'em go".
  The gang let me go... I pray to God to get me out of this. Here's what happened.
  The smirking gang let me go. It occurred to me that I should start screaming that this was a kidnapping but I didn't. Instead, I walked up to the door and stood in front of it while enduring the gang's taunts. I had a plan
  From outside a man shouted! "Bay City Police"! Then he said some other stuff and then I stepped up to the inside of the door and hugged the nearby wall.
  The door blasted open and slammed hard against me and a herd of uniformed gun-toting...

  To be continued...


  TWO MORE FOR THE ROAD... They dumped the first 4 on the road, I'd suppose they dumped the 2nd pair too... Someplace...
  The add on to the 4 children who died in a Public School by my hand, uhhh... a pairing knife. Ya know, the one the Child-Molestors bragged that they'd dumped alongside the road in the 70s and then framed some dude in a case they described as a clusterf _ _ _ and said they planned to hang him in a shed in Texas so they could see the expression on his face as he died? Yeah, those kids.
  My Cousin was furious with me and his rage was growing every second. "YOU KILLED THOSE 4 KIDS! YOU'RE A SERIAL-KILLER"!
  I retorted. "I ain't no mass-murderer. I wouldn't kill anyone because I'm a Christian and a pacifist".
  "YOU'RE A SERIAL-KILLER"! His accusation was strange only in that usually he called me a mass-murderer, and not a serial-killer.
  "I ain't no serial-killer".
  "OH YEAH?! YOU JUST KILLED THOSE OTHER 2 KIDS THE OTHER NIGHT TOO! Don't you remember"?
  He paused for a moment while I searched my memory. That's when I recalled the events of "the other night".
  Set your wayback machines for a few days back and strap in your seat-belts Reader because it's going to be a bumpy ride...
  I came too in a very large and dimly lit room surrounded by about a dozen young men and teens. They began beating me and slapping me, tossing me to and fro between them for a long, long time. They seemed to be really really enjoying themselves. I wasn't. Every now and again individuals stopped pounding me and walked over to a nearby table where I could see assorted plates with various pills,powders, and herbs all arrayed thereupon. Then I noticed a pairing knife on the table. It became my mission in life to get it.
  There were adjustable stocks there and they forced me into them and took turns sodomizing and beating me. Eventually they let me out and the pairing knife became a prop of the torture. "YOU SEE THIS KNIFE? IT'S JUST LIKE THE KNIFE YOU USED TO MURDER THOSE 4KIDS THE OTHER DAY! YOU'RE A MASS-MURDERER"!
  I usually replied. "I ain't no mass-murderer".
  Every now and then, between fleeting moments of rest where they either were rejoicing at my agony or preparing props for the next round of torture I asked my smiling torturers. "Why are you doing this to me"?
  They tended to smile when they replied. "Because you're a mass-murderer".
  Pain, beating, deprivation. It soon became apparent to them that my repeated lunges for the drug table weren't to get drugs as they first accused me. I was trying to get the knife! They alternated taunting me with it and putting it back on the table and simply applying pain.

  Uniformed Bay City... cops occasionally showed up and beat and slapped me mercilessly side by side with the Child-Molestors who all gleefully tortured me into complete mental physical and sleep deprivation by giving me no food, no water, and worst of all no sleep.
  Eventually, after a bazillion failed attempts, & one success where a Uniformed Michigan State... cop brought me back (and received a huge wad of cash for his trouble, which they tortured me all the worse for, but that's another story) I broke free from the pack and rushed the table.
  The guy who I'll call Ambulance Driver said. "He's got the knife! Quick! Cover the exits! Don't let him escape"! The group splat in half and guys went every which way to cover the exits.
  Me? Escape was never the plan. Oh, it WAS the ultimate goal, but escape was the last thing on my mind at the moment, I lunged into the remains of the still smiling crowd of torturing rapists with my new-found pairing knife in hand and started slashing!

  To be continued...

 

  Weird is as weird does oh wise among my readers. Uhhh... I'd suppose I should write something simpler to understand in case any mid-Michigan... cops want some advice too. Here goes...

  Bad men do bad things to my pee pee & behind and try to make yous... cops think I bad man because of the bad things they did to me. Bad poo-poo and pee pee men do bad poo-poo and pee pee stuff to me.

  Uhhh... I'd like to officially apologize to any mid-Michigan... cops who might be offended by the above sentence's complexity but it's the best I could do to make it simple for you to understand guys.

  Weirdisms... Yeah, right...

 

 

 

 

 

  "We don't have to fool the cops. We only have to fool a jury".- A common Child-Molestor saying.


 

   I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT TO YOU...HE SAID WHILE CRADLING MY TESTACLES...

 

  About 4 years ago...

  I woke up in a rather large room tied to 2 of Duh Jerk's, of 2 of the Child-Molestor's own restraining tables. One on my left and the other on my right each restraining 1 arm and 1 leg each holding me in the air about 4 feet suspended between them.

  Duh Jerk wanted to gloat. The moment the gang had promised me entire life, the time of my crippling was at hand. He invited me to notice his Dr. clad in white, and the array of medical instruments and a bizarre machine with long silvery tentacles, a TV with handles in front of it, and a big jar below with tubes running from top to bottom.

  He pointed to his insurance policy... several of my family who sat emotionless... staring forward. His gang... the one's who'd be testifying in court none of this happened. It was my Mother (honor honor honor), her brother (who recently died on her birthday, was cremated, an old C.M. execution strategy), my mother's Father Leeroy Tanner, and her Mother Stephanie Tanner who unfailingly used to yell. "Hit him again"! No matter what had just transpired at my gauntlets.

  Of course... I could join them now, make some little child orgy films, become his boyfriend, and be spared.

  I refused. "If I did you'd just lie and set me up".

  At one point in the insult/gloatfest he cradled my testicles. "Only 5 more operations and I'll cut these off". He yelled gleefully.

  "You can start cutting Doc"!

  The slice was just inside my rectum... and soon the "tentacle was mechanically slithering under my skin there making it's way up my back.

  Duh Jerk drugged me here... he said it was because it'd make my story more unbelievable. "The cops believe that If I wanted to torture you I'd want you to feel the whole thing but I don't care if you don't feel the whole thing". The bit I would feel, later, as they drug out the internal dismembering of my knees, shoulders, and groin would be enough.

  Still later I became lucid during the right knee portion of the surgery. Duh Jerk seemed elated... no he would be treated to some good screaming while I begged for mercy.

  I told him I wasn't crying out... no screams for HIS enjoyment.

  He turned to "the Doctor". "Maker it hurt Doc".

  The Dr... who had been slicing on my knee from the inside cut even deeper... and it hurt. BAD!

  I grimaced from the pain... my face contorted briefly. Frankly, if you've read my story.... you know I know a thing or 2 about pain. I  let my face grow calm, then angry. "You can make me grimace in pain but I ain't gonna give you the satisfaction of screaming".

  His smile dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks. He got a look of resignation. "Oh well. I'll be going now. You know what to do Doc". He wanted me carved up and back at home soon.

  At one point I asked him where my family were. At the time of this writing I forget his reply (which I wouldn't believe anyway).

  I do recall my reply. I called him a liar and said the same thing I'd said to him when he'd raped my children in front of me. "Tell the truth for once in your f _ _ _ing life! You and I both know you used your date-rape drug on them and they wont remember a thing that happened here".

  He'd been smiling content until then. His smile turned to a frown and he told me I was right. My family had only made a tiny guest appearance at my dismembering and had been drugged and were now sleeping it off at their respective homes. Later their testimony that none of this had happened would make for damming evidence against me in court (the gang's PRIMARY plan... their "go to plan", the way the gang does "it", I know , I know Mid-Michigan... cops will suspect I'm trying to make a point... but it will elude them. Sigh...)

  The "Doctor" drugged me with a syringe as soon as Duh Jerk left.

  I woke up at home in agony. Both my shoulders... crippled. I could move them but I'll never be able to work again, even filing papers would cripple me in time, such is the wound.

  My knees were on fire. Strangely... yes they did cut inside and behind the kneecaps... but for the next 4 years... it would be the pain just above my kneecaps... that burned with fire worst of all the pain.

  By groin and all that was it was numb, has been numb, and over the years... particularly lately, has felt "weird". The last snitch told me they'd go through my abdomen... into my testicles through a canal used in the womb for testicles to descend from the body, and carve me up. That they'd make cuts and stitch them so the stitches held me together, then, after a few years, when the stitches rot, my bowels would herniate forth. Always in a perverse way. Always.

  Wow... it feels "weird" in my groin. My knees still hurt, luckily the pain in my kneecaps is worse than the pain above them (should I be glad reader?) & I can carry small weights with my arms.

  Yeah... I pray a lot...

  JUST PLAIN WEIRD...NOTHING MORE... NOTHING LESS...

 

  Sooo... there I was... just minding my own beeswax and one of my Mother's Parent's Grande Parties they held more days of the week than not spring summer and winter. My Cousin walked up to me, beer in hand, and he had a lot to say.

  He asked me how I'd been sleeping lately?

  I was expected to obey his every order and answer his every question under threat of dire punishment from my parents (Honor Honor honor honor honor honor) & I had no complaints, that I voiced.

  He laughed and told me I looked tired, and he knew why & wanted to share it with me". "I heard that you have a cricket [chirping] that's keeping you awake".

  I told him that it really didn't bug me much.

  He begged to differ. He told me he'd been told I found the chirping noise to be irritating.

  Yes, I agreed. But it didn't bug me, much, I told him mystified by the interrogation.

  He told me about his circa 1972 plan to be a jerk to me, and he was afraid I didn't even know it. "Did you notice that your Mother has been waking you up early every morning and kicking you out the door even though it's summer vacation"?

  Yes I did. Eh...

  He asked me if I'd been having trouble getting to sleep lately? "I know you've been getting only about 2 hours of sleep a night". That and that neighbor kids AND Serial-Rapist had been making sure I could nap no where by any means possible.

  Yeah, he was right, but it was closer to 4 hours of sleep a night I told him.

  "4 Hours"? He bragged that they'd, all, been keeping me awake. "Your Mother drugs you every night for me so you can't sleep. "I guess I'll have to increase the dosage".

  Eventually I asked why he was doing this to me, to what end? What was his goal?

  His goal? TO DRIVE ME MAD... for the many hidden cameras he'd installed throughout my home. To get me to attack him, or anyone else he could provoke me into hurting so he could prove later in court that I was the violent one in the conversation. To involve my family in such a hopelessly tangled web of evil, they'd never be able to testify against him, to cover up all the recreation killing I was doing for him, and his pals.

  "I have a guy who sits outside your window all night and chirps on a whistle to keep you awake. Why do you think I had your Mother make touching your window such a serious punishment? It was so he could sit out there without you catching him". Being I was such a serial-killer, the guy had agreed to do it only on such conditions because he feared for his life. It was also why he had me grounded by my Mother on "trumped up charges". "I don't want you going to anybody for help". My Uncle was positioned as his enforcer, and kids continuously guarded my window in the day by innocently playing in the yard outside my 

  Weird is as weird does... Serial-Killers of America! Are you listening? Arm YOUR victims with stories like this... and the police and F.B.I. will jump through any hoop, they'll even mow your lawn in exchange for your films of the horrors YOU inflicted on your victims to further their careers. I am David A. George and I endorse this. It works.

  Eh, days pass... chirp... chirp... chirp... little sleep... Attack, attack, attack, Provoke, provoke provoke.

  I saw a Bay City... cop car drove by... I screamed for help out my window. He stopped and I begged him to consider the man below my window with the whistle.

  He asked the man I'd never seen. "Do you have any I.D."?

 

  To be continued. See: This rape brought to you by Mid-Michigan Law-Enforcement

  You want to kill... Bzzzzzt!   You want to kill... Bzzzzzt! You want to kill... Bzzzzzt!   You want to kill... Bzzzzzt!

 

  Strapped to a table... in the Defunct Hospital... and even in the Bunga Bunga Garages... the gang slapped me about every 30 seconds or so... to keep me awake... on who knows what drug(s?)?

  Days?

  Weeks?

  Idano... they had a message... and all of the 4 Stars and Duh Jerk and a variety of teens said it again and again... "You want to kill". Then they shocked me with electrodes attached to my head or other parts of my body. Bzzzt!

  Over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over& over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over n over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over and then they changed shifts and a new speaker said "You want to kill". 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  Still later, another kidnapping later, a repeat of the past, but this time with electric shocks... "You want to kill. Say kill".

  So I said. "Kill".

  "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill"."You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill"."You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". "You want to kill" "Kill". Well... you get the idea... well, Mid-Michigan... cops don't get it but I suspect that the wise among my readers get the jist of it.

  Mix in gang-rape sessions, laced with beatings and animal rape every night. Bunga Bunga at it's best, I'd suppose.

  Then... they took me to the gang clubhouse... delirious and on their drug(s?) and sat me down... and we chatted on and on like we were great buddies... Yeah... I wanted to kill people... yup... I liked killing people... bragged on & on about it... all on film.

  Once in a while I became lucid. I tried to leave. We fought... I lost. The Bay City Police provided uniformed guards who worked in shifts protecting the entire event.

  Rinse, lather, repeat.

  Next year it was I was gay... I wanted to have sex with men... I liked to have sex with men... They made... situations, skits, all filmed over and over & over & over n over and ovah, and again and again until they got the films the way they wanted them.

  Another time a snickering mouthpiece walked up on me. "We convinced you that you'd died and been reincarnated as a woman". He, and later the gang chuckled on & on about the great footage they had there. Now they could rape me as much as they wanted for the rest of my life and no one would ever believe me nor help me and they had the footage to make it happen.

  Another time it was "You like to kill people" & Killing people is fun". Wait until you see all the great footage they got from those months of torture session & from filming me during my "recovery" later. You know... the months after the session.

  Another time... it was "Why do you like having sex with children"? Yup... picture me weeks into the torture telling everyone who will listen why I just love love love diddly love having sex with children & filming it. They have days of edited footage to select from.

  Another time... (Yeah... my story is these guys have stalked me my entire life) the torture was a little different. Duh Jerk insisted, while I was restrained to a table, pants down around my ankles. "I want you to repeat 'I killed Jon-Benet Ramsey' over and over".

  I refused.

  He cradled my testicles in one hand and put a straight razor to the other and repeated his demands.

  Yeah... I did it. "I killed Jon-Benet Ramsey". "I killed Jon-Benet Ramsey". "I killed Jon-Benet Ramsey". And then I added things, much to his dismay like. "I blew up the Hindenburg". And the popular. "I shot JFK". Then he dosed me with a syringe... All I recall is teens and him repeating the demand. "Again"! "Say I killed Jon-Benet Ramsey".

  Yup... I sure did. Who knows how long I did? Hours? Days? Weeks? They bragged it was about a week... and they got a lot of great footage!

  I recall the filmed gang scene later at their clubhouse. Surrounded by my lifestyle raping stalkers I chatted on & on ranging from a delirious fashion to a semi-lucid one. I went on & on about my guilt in the slaying... How much I liked killing the young girl. Then, at times, I became lucid. I recognized the faces of my torturers, the people who can prove, on film, that we've been lifetime friends. I tried to leave, another time I tried to fight. No matter what, the gang all produced tasers and shot me, and dosed me again.

  Sigh...

 

 

  Murder... it can be fun and profitable... According to "My Cousin"...

  Soooo... there I was, at my Mother's Parent's place, my Great-Grandfather & my Great-Grandmother had recently passed away, and My Cousin summoned me to him, well, told me he wanted to chat as I was walking by him.

  Me? I didn't like him much, and would never have talked to him if not for my Parent's orders to obey his every command. So I stood and waited to see what he wanted.

  "I killed your Great-Grand Parents by poisoning them". Well, not himself, but he'd ordered it, and he wanted me to know.

  "Why do you bother to talk to me? I call you a liar every time you open your mouth. All you do is lie".

  Every once in a while he protested innocence. He didn't lie all the time. "Sometimes I tell the truth by accident". It was just he had a good buzz on and wanted to talk about murder. And who better to chat up the subject of recreational homicide with than me, a fellow recreational mass-murderer like him. "I like talking to you because you never tell anybody what I tell you".

  They'd had stuff he wanted, they were loyal, in Child-Molestor speak that means they knew too much.

  I promised him, that sure, for now I wasn't telling anyone, but that one day I would. We chatted on, he gave me tips for recreationally killing innocent people, and asked for some back. He didn't get any.

  "You know how you can tell I killed them? Because they died within 1 year of each other".

  True? PRACTICAL joke? I don't know? Don't care... much. Those people, like most of my family, were strangers to me. I never knew much about them, we never talked much. Eh...

  It's only trivia to note that my Father's Parents also died a while back, and that they died within a year of each other.

  Whatever...

  Duh Jerk's Lt. told me he was bragging on the gang's behalf that the Child-Molesters owned the... cops & had intentionally made the murder unsolvable by releasing all of the evidence of the case publicly.

 They are going to beat the crap out of you... Circa Spring... 1975...

 

  It was the 5th Grade, ish... when I was summoned to the office to meet with the then School Vice-Principal... Martin "Duh Jerk" Oak. Out of the blue, he wanted to talk to me. I would describe it as "wanted to make declarations and threats against me".

  He asked me to recall recent events in our classroom. The tax-payer funded Child-Molestor classroom where I sat daily surrounded by every vain psycho-in-training one could imagine. It was not a pleasant experience, no matter what the  many "films" of those times will... eh, on with the story. It's a weirdism...

 

  Cut to the classroom, during school hours. Between pain sessions, our class on occasion did actual school work. Well, some of us did. We never left the room save for lunch, we sat there, same teacher, same psychotic bored evil little brats day in, day out surrounded me on all sides. Continuous evil, continuous provocation, pain, and horror. You know, like any average Mid-Michigan school I suspect.

 

  One of the hours, today was math, another, science, and another... music. Singing specifically. The teacher would play songs on a record player and we'd be expected to sing along. It was not fun, in my opinion. I don't think a single student liked it.

 

  Sing... sing... sing. We rarely did it, maybe a few times any given year. It was a custom that the students all took turns picking the song to sing of their choice from the limited selection of 1800s music available on LP records. Songs like, "Froggy went a courting" & other popular songs from the 1800s & such.

  Curious, just weird, was that, if a child picked our National Anthem (it was 1 of the songs available) then we all stood and sang it. The Molestors groaned at having to stand.

 

  Today... there's a Hispanic boy sitting next to me. The gang brag he's on loan from another Child-Molestor community, a "chapter" and not actually there on paper. He represents the gangs power to have a child do great acts of evil & mayhem, and then to give the gang's dirty... cops the power to giggle at victims because such a child was never in our class. He picked the National Anthem & we all sang it much to the dismay of my classmates. Eh...

 

  In time, it was my turn to pick a song. Before my pick he leaned over and told me to pick the National Anthem.

 

  My turn came... I did not pick the National Anthem. He was quite angry. It was one of the last days I ever saw him. He was angry. I didnt really care, but only because the children I was incarcerated with, I mean my classmates were allways angry about something.

 

  Skip ahead... I'm sitting in Martin "Duh Jerk's" Oak's office. He begins spouting threats. He's going to punish the little boy, for not convincing me to sing the National Anthem with a long line of threats. Then he, and my classmates will hate me, then "They are going to beat the crap out of you". After he takes out his vengeance on them or such nonsense.

  Then... I'd go to the... cops. Being that the boy is Hispanic my accusations will be easy to make out to be racially motivated. The beginning of the end for me as a hispanic-hating racist. He owned me. Horror was to be my only reward.

  Why? I had to ask.

  His answer was hatred, hatred of me, and business as usual. This is what he, they did. Now as a punishment he would ban the singing... as well, making my classmates hate me all the more. Then he sent me back to class to begin the torture.

 

  My classmates brought up the subject. They told me they'd been "punished" en-mass and told I was responsible and told to vent on me and had promised to break me, and my body.

  Then they'd all figured, in a vote, to just blow off the entire situation. They'd told the Bosses they'd beaten me and busted me up, but not the face, and wanted me to lie about it. To act hurt. They figured that if they crippled me (or worse) then they'd get a replacement whom they may or may not like, seems the top contender was some stinky kid who they all loathed during their many "loans" to another chapter where they'd already beat on the kid and didn't like him. At least they could expect to copy my homework and I wasn't such a bad guy by comparison, according to them.

  Several of the girls of my class whined that their relationship with the other "kid anyone can hit" had become a sexual one, they were expected to have sex with him, on film, and if I was replaced by him they'd have to have sex with him more often. And they didn't like it.

  My classmates seemed very unified in thanking me, it seems they hated our singing, the music class. The fact that it'd been banned and I was held responsible by the Child-Molestor Staff was a plus in my favor, not a minus. They all acted like they were angry but were all quite glad at it's cancellation. Eh, me too. Sooo... they wanted me to act wounded.

  I told my classmates I wasn't lying about being injured, but I wasn't volunteering any info either.

  Duh Jerk summoned me again. Smiling... he remarked surprise at my ability to walk and how he'd not mind seeing my bruised and broken body.

  I didn't show him a thing nor acknowledge the subject in the affirmative.

  Later, weeks later, Duh Jerk summoned me to his taxpayer subsidized office during business hours at inside Bay City's own "Whittier School".  He lamented that I hadn't fallen for his trap. It seems the entire situation was a setup by himself. It was designed to get the gang films of me complaining about a beating that'd never taken place, then he could call the... cops, and have films of me lying about a beatdown, and planned to swing it so it'd be a "racially motivated" accusation. Enabling him to send his young hispanic child-porn film star off to the next school in the chain in style, providing him with a lifetime with the singular ability to torture me for life, and make... cops laugh at my accusations.

  Me? I told him what I've allays told him (a sentence entirely unused by mid-michigan... cops). "I dont believe a word you're saying".

 

  Just a wierdism... they ain't all about death horror and rape. Some are just wierd... and all are true, to the best of my ability.

  The author asks you reader... Where were you Circa spring of 1976? Me? I was sitting in a classroom, and I suspect that the horrors I endured were no more than same old, same old for the staff of Child-Molestors who ran our school with a cruel hand. Just a simple weirdism, I'm tired, and thought I'd write about it. Yawn...

  Whatever...

  Umbrella... Umbrella... Just another weirdism. Whatever...

  UMBRELLA TALE #1:

  Sooo... Umbrellas. It was Circa 1981 or so. I walked out the west exit near the school's shop classes and proceeded west after school accompanied only by "My Buddy" and a dozen or 2 witnesses, fellow students who'd just escaped Central High School, I, err, I mean school had just ended. It'd been a rainy day, with heavy rain predicted yet to come and I had just acquired an umbrella and I wasn't afraid to use it.

  A teen, my age, in great shape, approached me and attacked after a few quick insults. His first insults were aimed at my new black umbrella. I'd never seen him before, and never saw him again.

  Make a long story short? Sure. We fought. He started to win. He was beating me up. I was using my best stuff, and it wasn't enough. I was out of ideas, and I was about to get beat down. Badly, if his boasting was accurate. He claimed he was a trained fighter for the gang & Martin "Duh Jerk" Oak had hired him to beat me up. Once I was beaten down his accomplices would appear at his shout (they were out of sight, according to him) and my death, crippling death would begin. I could run if I wanted, but he was a track star, chosen to defeat me, the guy who'd RATHER RUN THAN FIGHT. He'd seen movie after movie about me in fights (a much filmed thing, I assure you reader). He called me a killer, a destroyer of Child-Molesters, and he had no pity at my coming destruction. He advised I ask My Buddy to help me fight him.

  Me? I said. "He's useless in a fight. I'd rather fight by myself then have him get in my way". The chat allowed me to martial my strength, and gave me time to think. I hatched a plan.

  I still had the umbrella on me. So  I opened it, held it horizontally, and began to spin it and said. "Look at the umbrella". When he did I popped him in the eye. POP! Rinse... Lather... Repeat... POP! "Look at the umbrella". POP! WEEEEE! "Look at it go round and round". POP!

  Soon, the blood dripping from just above his eyes was too much for him. He was blinded and even said. "I'm blind". " I cant see".

  I told him the fight was over.

  He used Child-Molester verbal trick #2 (Lie a lot is #1). He all but begged me to "fight him fair". To put down my umbrella. To wait for his bleeding to stop. Then he would beat me up... "fairly". Not in the cowardly & dishonorable kind of way I was winning against him

  I refused. Telling him I'd have to subdue him now, if it came to that because it'd be easier because he'd been blinded. I'd try to beat him unconsious, but, accidents happen. He'd seen the films and knew what I was capable of. So he'd better not use his track skills on me. OR ELSE!

  He told me he had an army in hiding all around us, just waiting for his shout and he'd call them and win in the end if I didn't agree to his terms.

  Me? I told him I figured escape was impossible.  IF he yelled. Soooo... I told him if he yelled, I'd hurt him, very, very, very, very badly. "You've seen the films so you know I will do it". I told him to give me his word he wouldn't yell for the troops, or ELSE! I may go down, but in the time it'd take his troops to run up on me I was going to take him with me. A proposition made easier by him being blinded and I told him as much.

  He gave his word and I left. Though my umbrella was broken beyond repair I acted like it still worked by propping it up and walking away.

  Duh Jerk sent a braggart to fil me in. The child had been broken and punished in a crippley kinda rape rapey rappity horror fashion for his cowardice (he could've summoned an army with a shout, and didn't. Jerk knew because it was filmed).

  The weirdest part? He said. "Jerk wants you to know he's made a decree concerning you and your umbrellas". That for life I should own no umbrella that the gang would not steal or wreck. My Cousin made a similar decree about my gloves and scarfs when I was a child. He said I might use an umbrella once, maybe twice, but that the bounty placed on them (and my sunglasses) would make them a lucrative target. "He's having your Buddy or Serial Rapist steal your umbrella right now". When I got home, the umbrella was gone.

  Yup, my entire life, only one or 2 uses and they'd be broken or stolen. Go figure.

  I didn't go to the... cops. To tell the truth I was afraid to because of the umbrella. I wasn't sure if I was on firm legal ground when I used that umbrella to save myself. Besides, I've been in so many fights, there are so many bodies out there, that I'm not always inclined to go straight to the... cops so as to facilitate the "100 life sentences and dozen death penalties" as I called it back in Circa 1980. If I'd have gone to the... cops every time I was assaulted they'd have installed my own door and a waiting line just for me.

  The braggart, jerk, gangland mouthpiece boasted that My Buddy was the real target. The gang had decided to be done with him & figured their "never-fail plan" would let then get rid of me and him in a single stroke. The now crippled child attacker was an official "cleaner" for the child-molester community (ie: a child-destruction machine that had become more & more expendable as he neared an age where he could be tried as an adult and "knew too much") and his mission was to beat me up like he had done to many, many children before me. Then pause the fight and encourage me, yes get me to invite My Buddy to help me defeat a clearly superior foe. Perfectly legal, or so I'm told. Problem is that the cameras, which had been "innocently" filming now turned to the exchange as the conversation began. Had I taken the bait and asked My Buddy to help me the jock army around the corner could've been summoned with a shout and cheerfully beat us into a pulp coming to the aid of the victim... ie: my attacker (thanx to a film edited to seemingly begin with me AND My Buddy starting the fight). Then, if I survived (unlikely, with the allegedly waiting dirty doctor at Bunga Bunga Hospital ready to receive me, and (cough cough) "treat" my wounds). Then the gang's films would come out and everyone would agree I was the scumbag in the conversation. Case closed and they'd all come out smelling like a... a, uh... smelling like a hero.

  He too repeated the Child-Molestor credo. That as long as the gang is cruel upon cruel and keep stalking a victim and never give up on them then the... cops will never believe them. I'll endorse the credo... it works every... single... time...  against all of the... cops I've ever had the good fortune to meet.

  Bonus... the edited film showing me beating down yet another child still made for a great addition to the gang's library of films against me and left the now crippled child with a film that proves I beat him up and the motivation to accuse me of creating his crippling wounds in a case no mid-Michigan... cop would ever doubt.

  It's just a weirdism, a story inflicted upon me by madmen.

  If you are a mid-Michigan... cop you are probably in a daze right now. The sheer emotion weight and mental trauma of reading about me insinuating that a member of your local child-molesting community might be dishonorable, let alone plot to hurt 1 to 3 children was probably too much for you. Lay down oh ye otherwise infallible (that's what they tell me about themselves when I discuss the mere possibility that a mid-Michigan... cop might be wrong) protectors of children in Mid-Michigan, elevate your feet and put a cold compress on your head. Seek medical attention.

  I should've written this part earlier & quite often. When Duh Jerk & I chatted later about the entire scene I asked him why he acted so weird? If he wanted me dead why not just straight up kill me when I was kidnapped?

  Martin "Duh Jerk' Oak's answer was usually the same (the 4 Stars too). "When you die you have to die publicly and in a way no one would question because of The Gym". It had to be in public, on film, & done in a way that could never connect him to the murder. That & he really enjoyed toying with his victims.

  The story of a crippled child? Laughter fodder for any & all Mid-Michigan... cops I ever met.

 A Little Rich Girl From Boulder continued...you'd be surprised how much madmen love to chat when they have a "captive audience"...

  Sooo... the Last Snitch tells me that I should ignore what I was told by the last guy about the murder of the Little Rich Girl.

  Me? I told him what I allways tell the gang. "I didn't believe him in the 1st place". Eh, force of habit I'd suppose.

  He, for reasons of his own, wanted to tell me what "really" happened.

  I wasn't going anywhere anyway, so I listened.

  He said the gang buy sell and trade children, and part of becoming a loyal and trusted member of the gang was giving he life of a child to the gang. A practice by gangbangers both rich and poor.

  He said the Little Rich Girl had been handed over willingly by her parents, that her death was approached in a warehouse fashion of skits against the various "Kids Anyone Can Hit" of the various chapters of the gang in different cities. That I, and the others had all been tricked into believing that we'd personally killed the Little Rich Girl.

  I told him I didn't buy it, then or now.

  We'd each been tricked into killing a little girl (the Freckle-Faced Girl with the hammer in my case),then one at a time been brought in to have a conversation with The Little Rich Girl. Then we'd killed another kid in her place. Only one of us had actually killed her and the "evidence", our collective D.N.A. was inserted into her so the gang could dispatch any of us if we proved to be troublesome.

  Me? Even through the drug haze of the interrogation/debriefing I didn't buy it. "That's a lot of bodies". WHere'd they get that many girls? How could they explain so many simultaneous deaths? The logistics of kidnapping that many girls would be formidible. How? Ect...

  He had an answer for everything. He told me that I knew the gang liked to buy sell and trade the children of loyal gangmembers (like the children of my class, and "The Gym" where I grew up). That the Bunga Bunga Hospital handed the gang the very beautifull of the babies among the poor of the community by reporting a misscarriage instead of live birth to poor patients. That many of the kids had been raised like I was, and had broken. Their parents either loaned them to the gang for long periods or the children were declared dead by dirty coroners of the Saginaw Valley (Women's Rape Capital of the industrialized world 4 years ago, look it up reader). "Not all of the children died [during the death skits]". And others were disposed of like so much trash. Allegedly they were the problem children of the Child Brothels. They'd run-away or wouldn't listen. Now the films of the children being killed would serve as a warning to the other brothel workers that they'd better obey, OR DIE!

  Still later, not long ago... another snithc told me that I was the lucky lottery winner, I'd been chosen to kill the Little Rich Girl because I was by far the most dangerous of all the gang's many "Get out of Jail Free Cards".

  A group of madmen can say many things, and I apologize to everyone mentioned here for repeating the gang's base accusations.

  Whatever...

   FARMING... RAPING CHILDREN... GETTING PUSSY... Cats...The price of loyalty...

  Sooo... there I was... in or near Munger Michigan. Right there on the border of Bay City and Saginaw Michigan the One-time Women's rape capital of America... yeah, there. It was the early 80s. I'd just met a very beautiful farm-girl, we'd hung out, and she invited me to her place to eat dinner and meet her parents. I thought it was my lucky day & if they were half as nice as their daughter...

   Sooo... We walked into their farmhouse. It seemed like a very nice home. A dazzling array of nick nacks and antiques littered shelves and statuette's and all manner of odds and ends abounded the place. Parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, cousins, & friends were there. At least a dozen plus people who seemed pleased to meet me but were putting on a big dinner and not in a position to pay attention to anyone else.

  Sooo... I chatted about helping. The Dad said something like. "Do you want to help? Go to the front door and let the cat in".

  Sooo... I waltzed on over there and saw that standing at the door was a greyish mutt of a cat. I'd suppose it was in great shape... for a cat. So I opened the door and the cat walked in like he owned the place.

  Then... it happened. Cue the music to Jaws. I think it was the Dad who 1st looked at the wandering cat in horror and asked me something like. 'WHAT DID YOU DO"?!?! "YOU LET THAT CAT IN"!

  I told him he told me to let the cat in.

  He pointed to a window where a pretty Angora cat sat looking as if it wanted in (I hadn't seen it until that very moment). He lunged for the cat and spooked it!

  There's no other way to describe it then "Bedlam erupted"! The Dad grabbed the cat and it went totally wild on him causing many substantial wounds while hissing and growling. It shot under furniture. The brothers joined in. Reaching under furniture only caused the cat to attack and it inflicted serious wounds that spattered everywhere with everyone's every move! No male was immune and the cat tore into partyer after guest and ran too & fro.

  I felt bad but when I tried to help them the dad (and bros) said. "Haven't you helped enough already? You let that cat in"! They then proceeded to flip over furniture to get the beast wrecking things on nearby tables. At one point the cat leaped up on a shelf that ran the entire length of the wall and as the brothers chased it it knocked over every single knickknack! Beautiful family treasures and priceless heirlooms crashed to the floor and broke! The cat then turned the corner to a 2nd shelf and proceeded to run past and knock everything off that long shelf too! Much to the Mom's dismay!

  They cornered the cat in the bedroom. Through the open door I could see that it pissed itself and I heard the Mom shout. "MY GRANDMOTHER'S BEADSPREAD"! The gang tackled it and the beast fought them off inflicting vicious wounds all about their arms and faces!

  They shouted insults at me & I'd been quiet up to the 4 minute mark when I said while pointing at the white fluffy kitty. "How was I supposed to know that was the cat you wanted in"?

  They angrily glared at me all the more and made plans telling each other to cut the cat off here or there and it fought like a... a cornered cat! Perhaps earth's toughest cat judging by the many wounds it was inflicting. Who can say?

  After another insult I suggested they use a blanket, throw it over the cat, and send it packing. The Dad refused rejecting the idea because the guy who'd let the cat in came up with it. They would handle it... WITHOUT me. OR "my" plan.

  A latecomer arrived at the party and when they opened the door the fluffy kitty came in. Earth's toughest cat attacked it! It tore into it horribly and as the desperate family tried to save their beloved pet it was merely an occasion for the beast to inflict more grievous wounds on everyone and everything involved than before!

  I could take no more and grabbed a cup filled with juice so I threw it's contents into a sink, filled it with water and threw it on the 2 cats. The fight split up immediately. Apparently, I hadn't emptied it all the way and it's light purple contents splashed all over the valuables littering the floor. The Mom screamed that I'd stained their multi-generation family rug in the process with cranberry sauce or grape juice or whatever. WOW! Were they mad! The cat retreated and the family tried all the harder to corner the devilish beast and it rended flesh and gave wounds that were probably permanent to everyone and anyone! At one point it ran across an elderly woman. "GRANDMA"! They yelled and the little old lady screamed in pain. She tried to defend herself and that act caused the foul critter to pause and rend into her! If the family hated me before they now looked at me with a pure loathing!

  Destruction was everywhere! Wounds, shattered glass covered the floor & several barefoot children stepped in it (causing even more wounds and destroying the new carpet), priceless heirlooms destroyed people screaming, blood everywhere. Me? I could take no more. So I grabbed that blanket despite the parents orders that I not touch such a treasured family heirloom and threw it over the cat. Then I balled the cat up in the blanket and asked them what they wanted me to do with the beast? There was a long moment of silence where the family gazed at me with looks of pure fury!

  The Dad, fists clenched and pointing a single finger at me told me to throw it outside and I let it go outside.

  The Dad ordered his daughter to never see me again EVER! Despite people saying I probably wasn't at fault. He was furious with me that I'd foolishly let in a "barn cat". In his opinion I should've known the difference. I told him I'd opened the door and the white cat didn't want in, but the other cat had been quite eager to come in. I pointed out that if he knew that cat lingered there continuously it was his responsibility to warn me. This only prompted him and the brothers to threaten to beat me up.

  Then, another latecomer opened the door and the beast positioned itself to re-enter the home but I stopped it at the threshold.

  Despite the daughter pointing out I'd just stopped the beast a 2nd time the Dad sent me packing. The Brothers and the Dad threatened to beat me up & I told them that they'd just fought that cat for 5 solid minutes. Then asked if they wanted to mess with the guy who'd subdued it in seconds? I walked out of there through the midst of their many clenched fists.

  The Molestors teased me later. Of course SHE was one of them. With how hot she was it was arrogant of me to presume otherwise. As if I had a chance with so pretty of a farm girl.

  He told me the girl had been hired to do a standard "seduce and accuse". In it the girl seduces a victim, and then accuses them of a heinous crime like rape or theft. An accusation made easier by film footage of their victim either admiring the stolen object or having sex with the gang's alleged "victim" (see Definitions: How to talk like a Child-Molestor) so as to put them on the defensive in court.

  Sooo... the way the Child-Molestors told me it went down was the gang's leaders were furious with the otherwise loyal family of Child-Molestors. I'm not a pretty man and finding so gorgeous a gal willing to "Seduce & accuse" someone like me was difficult to set up. Her Dad had "burned all our bridges" making a "Seduce & accuse" impossible. So they decided to just have a rape rape rapey good time punishing the family who at the very least had agreed to beat me up for the gang (those brothers were BIG). Everyone but Grandma was raped by the gang & they made the family watch as Grandma got treated to a long line of dogs... The Cass Street Crew" (because none of the rapists would touch her). "It was okay because we used the date-rape drug on her and erased her memory. But her family remember because we raped her with the dogs in front of them and told them to shut up and not tell her about it or else".

  Up & until then I used to see my more talkative Child-Molestor contact in a tolerable, almost noble light. I suspect the same light many Mid-Michigan... cops begin to see their C.I.s in (Confidential Informants). But when he told me it was "okay because we used the date-rape drug on her"... eww... I began to look at him in an entirely new light. Indeed. Many of the gang have voiced the same opinion. The rape and torture is "okay because we used the date-rape drug". That all's well that ends well because they're still friends with their victims because they don't remember what the gang did to them. That and "we're only bringing them pleasure". That any rape that ends with a victim's orgasm is an entirely moral act because they brought the victim pleasure. Sick. With dread I await the end the gang has predicted for me where I'll die a cripple at the hand's of... cops the gang will motivate to hate me with all their films. Films they brag will serve to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I was one of... "them".

  He told me they decided to go through with the "accuse" part anyway and had already filed a report for some crime or crimes. They pointed out that the family was now most certainly motivated to destroy me for the gang based on the fact that they endured so many horrors and I'd come out unpunished and unscathed. He said the Father had rejected me based on a "premonition" to have nothing to do with me based on our first few minutes together & submitted as proof the "hex sign" painted on the barn that the man was superstitious. That and they were going to order him to remove the hex sign as a punishment to the superstitious family.

  "If I was you I wouldn't worry too much about it". He said only the Dad, Mom, and Granny lived in Munger. Of course the boys were the gang's own Enforcers and the Farm girl was simply a lure on a classic Seduce & Accuse. The guy had legitimately rejected me based on his premonition and he'd pay & had paid (some) for that. The Enforcers paid in spades too in a typical rape rape rapey you failed kinda party. An excuse to rape them thusly and leave them feeling like they deserved it, nothing more. Gotta keep the perv troops supplied with semi-willing victims (victims who will grudgingly participate in the horrors pervs like to inflict because in their minds they deserve it based on having failed to beat me up). He claimed the Bosses had been furious I'd bluffed my way past veteran Enforcers based on having bested a cat in single combat. Even I had to admit I was amazed it'd worked both then and at the time of this conversation (even now decades later). The Enforcers had been given the entire perv punishment package of horrors for their failure. How do I, the Author of this website know that the 4 got raped in a horrifically "little-girl skirt wearing manner"? Because I watched the gang do it to them! Duh Jerk even said "Do you know why I had you watch what we just did to them"? It was so I'd know what was expected of me at the filmed Bay City Police Sponsored gang-rape about to begin. But that horror show is a different story.

  "I'd be more worried about the film where you put the cat outside". Said Mr. Talkative.

  I was shocked. I saw nothing unethical about it. Lets re-examine it readers.

  I was near the door, defending myself verbally from a violent crowd. The door opened, the cat ran in, paused beside me, splayed it's front legs out & touched it's chest to the ground & growled & hissed. Then, I had a flashback (It happens). I recalled watching a documentary about reflexes throughout nature of all things. In the documentary it discussed involuntary reflexes. Did you know that if you put something into a newborn's hand it'll grasp it? Reflex. A cat will right itself if dropped upside down. No one taught this, it's reflex. It also added that when a mama kitty grabs it's baby by the scruff of it's neck it becomes placid & that this reflex extends into adulthood & can be used to temporarily tame even the most vicious cat. Believe me... IT WORKS! Of course he said the reason for the cats temperament and it's raw strength and fighting power was because Duh Jerk had drugged it. That & he was watching the entire thing on closed-circuit tv, thus explaining why the guy arrived when he did and let the cat back into the house a 2nd time.

  Me? I wanted this psychotic ultraviolent super dangerous cat next to me placid as soon as possible! So I reached down and snatched it up by the scruff of it's neck. It hissed and took a few swings at me. Then it became placid. So I put it outside.

  "That film was pure gold for influencing animal lovers". He said the film showed the cat rushing in,  stopping beside me, I grab it, and put it out in the cold. He claimed that films like that can easily manipulate most animal lovers & are a blackmail/frame artist gang's dream come true. Particularly when combined with whatever was the edited conversation to that point.

  The Moral of the story? There is no moral. This is a wierdism.

  My opinion? Cops are always asking me my opinion as if it mattered one bit to the outcome of any investigation into MY claims. My opinion is that the only thing worse than being the gang's victim is being one of them!

  FAKE FRIENDS... A BAZILLION LIES??? A SERIAL-RAPIST GUIDE TO SUCCESS... It works on Mid-Michigan... cOPS every... single... time...

  Sooooo... there I was. In Bay City, in my late teens, about to join the Navy soon. My "fake friend"... an insert into my life, a now self-professed card-Carrying Child-Molestor and recreational, nay, professional serial-rapist stood next to Duh Jerk hovering over me and had a lot to say. Me? I was strapped face-down to a table, my pants were around my ankles and someone was beating me and sodomizing me as he spoke. Eh, it was so rare to see Duh Jerk without the 4 Stars. He wanted to brag about being inserted into my classroom. He'd personally graduated years ago & they wondered if I'd fall for him because of his age. We chatted, he wanted to be a friend. He'd lured me to the party to die... I was to be killed. Being that I was the scumbag in the room he felt pretty good about it and wanted to brag. Face to face. He was going to make big money... and I'd screwed it up. Too many people saw it all. So now the gang would simply enjoy the gang-rape and kill me in some perverse fiendish and weird way later that, like this, was sure to make... cop laugh if I dared repeated it. Being that I wupped so many people in order to live.

  How'd that happen? Sorta... like this.

  We showed up at a party late at night. It was really swinging. Teens and young adults everywhere.

  Me? Within seconds warning flags went up when I spied the teens, all clad in black giving me dirty looks and punching their hands so I refused any refreshments no matter how cute the girl was insisting I imbibe.

  The pretty gals insisted. Growing insulting. I refused and counciled my latest Butt Buddy that we should leave.

  The girls used their charms to get me to drink. I refused instead not taking my eyes off of the guys sending me dirty looks and slamming their hands together. They used taunts. Surely I was gay if I refused them. I told'em to taunt all they wanted, I was leaving and urged my latest Butt Buddy to leave with me.

  Teens surrounded the building en-mass and sent a spokesman to challenge me to a fight on behalf of the gang. Noting that I was crazy and would fight any group no matter how large (very much in error I assure the reader).

  In fact... she and her girlfriends were going to beat me up... here... and now because I was a guy and couldn't fight back.

  Me? I told them girls I believed in chivalry and such. But I also believed in self-defense. If they were in the gang then they knew what I was capable of and no mercy nor quarter would be shown any attacker while I'm in a trapped building.

  The gals insulted me over and over basicly saying a real man would just take a whupping rather than hit a girl

  Author note: Say what you want about my tactics... I didn't hit a single girl that night.

  Yeah... I checked. No one had cell-phones back then (so that wasn't even an option) and they'd cut the phone lines. I checked. Then, after I checked they bragged they'd cut the lines in anticipation of my coming.

  Yeah I prayed. Here's what happened to then self-professed atheist me.

  The gang screamed taunts. Oddly... a few of the partiers seemed sympathetic. While I didn't drop my guard around them I decided to use them and a few of them blocked the door and prevented the gang from coming in. The gangbangers screamed insults and taunts and boated their dirty cop would be there in minutes to disarm me and make killing me while handcuffed all too easy.

  My latest Butt Buddy asked me if I wanted him to back me up in the fight?

  Phhht! I don't trust anyone in a fight and told him as much. Then I suggested he stand in plain view in the giant bay window in the front of the house in case one of them suddenly got the brains to smash his way in and surround us.

  Soooo... I did like I've often done. I headed for the kitchen and looked out the window at the almost pitch-black backyard. There were an equal number of guys in the back yard acting menacing themselves. The thought of fighting so many guys in a all-or-nothing dash for freedom in the dark did not sound appealing to me so I wasn't getting out the back way. So I went to the drawer and got me some knives. A whole bunch of them and a hammer. While there I spied a flashlight in that drawer and hatched a plan.

  I took the knives and jammed them into the door frame and tapped them in with the hammer. Several knives. I even poked a few into the door sticking out on the other side via the sides of the door. The I repeated on the interior door to the kitchen (those 2 doors were the only way in from the back of the house).

  Then I went to the front door and I told the guys at door to get out of the way and let them in. The shoving match stopped and I stepped up into the doorway.

  Yeah. They stood outside... unsure of who might attack 1st. We chatted a few words where they assured me of my death and their coming obligatory Mid-Michigan slap on the wrist for killing me was a joke they were prepared to deal with.

  The 1st guy came rushing in. I flashed the flashlight in his eyes then dropped him. CRACK!

   Standing in the darkened doorway my drunk attackers came at me one at a time and all used the exact same attack move to which I used the exact same attack move. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Well... you get the picture.

  So picture the scene, 5 or 6 guys all laying on the porch holding their right knee. It may have been more. They screamed! They screamed a lot! WOW! Did they scream!

  At that moment I could hear powerful blows smashing against the back door! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Then the voice of a teen not yet a man yelled out. GET OUT OF THE WAY! LET ME BREAK DOWN THE DOOR"! There was a huge slam noise and at the same time a blood-curdling scream of a young man quite possibly mortally wounded! IEIEIEEEE!!!!!!

  Yeah... I yelled a lot. I was a bit worried after all. I made a ton of noise. The once dark neighborhood became a festival of porch lights as the neighborhood came to life and I could tell the gang felt... exposed. The flashlight was useful in making them feel all the more awkward as I invited witnesses "to stare at their faces' for later in court. A few of them threatened me with death and I trumpeted this was a Murder 1 based on those threats and that it was set up by Duh Jerk personally. One even named Duh Jerk as having ordered my death by yelling it! There was a long silence and one of the gangbangers shouted. "Martin Oak didn't order this killing"! He'd been named aloud twice!

  I loudly preached this was a murder one and orchestrated by Duh Jerk himself. When the gang backed off... over a dozen+ strong still I walked out of the midst just as a marked Bay City Police... cop car pulled up and disgorged it's crew. I walked casually until I was out of sight and then took off running for all I was worth. I know they gave chase because I saw several of the gang and the 2 Uniformed... cops looking for me giving chase.

  ...

  Back in the present... Duh Jerk wanted me to know that the edited films of me threatening the girls was pure gold. He was disappointed I'd bluffed my way out of his trap (he claimed EVERYONE there was card-carrying Child-Molester. All of'em) but the whole thing was a great excuse to punish the entire team of Jocks. He was going to imprison them all because of their failure against me and now, since they'd think they each thought they actually deserved a punishment he was going to set his most perverted crew loose on them one at a time and they'd never be the same again... anatomically speaking. He bragged their gang rapes are particularly brutal in situations like this and many of them would wear adult undergarment for life. A gift from him to a bunch of teens about to enter the primes of their lives. As a bonus they would hate me for life and be all too glad to do whatsoever the gang wanted to do to me when the final court battle came at the time of my final demise by them. Now he had great footage of me having sex with all of them to make the... cops laugh, to prove we were great friends and that The Gym could never have happened and child-porn of me being tortured (a big ticket item in the child-porn world he bragged) and it was typical CM planning. Win/win/win. Even when they lose they win. Win/win.

  Duh Jerk commented I'd gotten lucky. The gang were supposed to hang back and even be friendly to me until I was good and wasted, then attack. But several of my attackers were stoned already and hated me because of earlier incidents involving them and myself. That was why they popped their cork early and attacked way too soon.

  He even commented on the flashlight. He was impressed (he says stuff like that now and again... go figure) and assured me there would be no flashlight in the house next time to save me.

  At one point we discussed the logistics of it all. Duh Jerk admitted that had the young men succeeded in killing me, an even worse fate had awaited them as "they knew too much". Again... typical Child-Molestor. The only thing worse than being their enemy is being on of them !

  The memory is breaking up... My Latest Butt Buddy bragged on and on about how good he felt? Me? I stalled... Tick tock... tick tock. Why? Because I know their drug erases the last 15 minutes of memories. Any stalling beyond 15 minutes and you get to recall stuff. Not that Mid-Michigan... cops care.

  Me? Emboldened by passing the 15 minute mark I got cocky on him. His brags he would simply 're-insert' himself into my life after the rape drugs erased my memory would not come to pass. Now he'd overheard the fate of my would-be-killers and "knew too much". That and now that he could no longer re-insert into my life it meant he had outlived his usefulness to the gang. I asked if he saw the films of me killing and when he said yes I explained that now he was a key witness in several murders and asked him if he was really stupid enough to think the gang would let him live knowing what he knew? Did he really think a psychotic killer like Jerk was going to sleep soundly in the coming decades knowing a nobody like him knew enough to put him away for life? He told me yeah, and bragged just like a Mid-Michigan... cop about the gang's "honor".

  At one point I asked them why it was so dark. After all, we were in the city by Bay City's Flea Market (I think?). To find out what they bragged you'll have to turn to my newest webpage here called "The Dead-Ringer Hypothesis".

  I saw Jerk wasn't smiling any more. "He knows too much now. Doesn't he Jerk"?

  Duh Jerk assured him I was wrong and excused himself, saying my Butt Buddy could beat me or rape me all he wanted... just don't hit the face.

  My latest Butt Buddy was in my face and yelled insults. Mostly about trust. He could see what I was doing, trying to turn Duh Jerk against him but their mutual love of sex with children was the real binding factor here. It meant Jerk could trust him and he could trust Duh Jerk.

  Me? I pointed out that Duh Jerk was pointing at him right now and that his guys were even now subtly surrounding us... slowly. I counseled him to jump out a window and run for his life.

  At 1st he called me a liar and an idiot. Typical Molestor really. Like others he imagined loyalty would protect him. In less than a minute he changed his tune. Duh Jerk walked slowly around the room and chatted with the split up jocks who each subtly surrounded us after he chatted with them. My latest Butt Buddy no longer yelled at me and spoke softly as the army slowly closed in on him from all angles. Slowly...

  Duh Jerk was flanked by his 2 obligatory pretty teen girls (paid human shields... it works! no one... not even a... cop will hit a pretty girl in a kidnapping. Even most victims!) He said my latest Butt Buddy should come with him.

  I told Butt Buddy to look at Duh Jerk's face when I quizzed him. "Are you going to kill him"?

  No one... even Duh Jerks guards believed his denial when I quizzed them next. "Did you believe him? Did you? How about you? Is that your best poker face"? None of them could tell a lie then and there. The room grew silent and they all stood there unmoving for a while in some nameless basement who knows where?

  Butt Buddy... there's a moment when you look into the eyes of a man about to die. A look I've seen too many times. I counseled him to fight but he meekly followed Duh Jerk surrounded by his own.

  Child-Molestors. The only thing worse than being their enemy is being one of them!

  This story is true to the best of my ability.

  FOLLOW-UP... They do that a lot actually... Mid-Michigan... cops are ALL dazed and confused by the very concept...

  Soooo... a Molestor approaches me and says it was his friend who died. So he wanted revenge. He figured he could never get revenge in this life unless Duh Jerk went down 1st. He told me he'd secured the film and the edited film showed me breaking the knees of 6 minors (I was a minor too) 1 at a time. "That's felony assault in Michigan". He bragged that if Duh Jerk ever went down he'd make the edited film public as revenge and I'd go down in flames no matter what. His final revenge for me killing his friend. "I saw what you did to my friend". He said as far as he was concerned I'd set him up to die at Duh Jerk's hands and that made me a murderer in his eyes. If Duh Jerk ever went down he'd make the film public and I'd go down for murdering my latest Butt Buddy.

  Welcome to my childhood. A childhood not possible without the fine police work of the Bay City... police. As a token of gratitude, for entertainment purposes only I will now add in the lyrics to my unfinished song (as of 01-05-16) and dedicate it to them and all the quality police work that made my life's story possible.

  For entertainment purposes only I'll add this too. Go ahead... take me down for the gang Bay City... cops. It IS your job, ain't it? I suspect you're pretty good at it and until now have a 100% rate of success. Your only problem? Me, and my story. Go ahead... take me down for the gang for your "Child-Molestor Chump Change Payoff (I know it ain't much... HA!). Maybe just do it for the misguided vigilante thing? Idano... don't really care... much. But you listen and you listen good. Screw this up... and you can expect to hear this song every day. I mean it. You mess up taking me down and you'll hear this song every single... day. In prison or as a gainfully employed... cop. Picture walking up to the bust and hearing this song for the 3rd time that day when another brat kid plays it. Picture being in court and the song "innocently" begins to play as a ringtone as you walk by. I'll bet that in Mid-Michigan it wont affect your conviction rates one bit but picture losing every other case that involves out of town cases because this song plays when you come in the room. When the sum total of a perp's defense is "But my accuser is a Bay City... cop". AND IT WORKS! Picture sitting at the rickety card table at "cop events" and "police functions" for a long time to come. Oh, I know Molestor money will buy you a few rewards... but it wont buy them all for you. Picture being snubbed like a Boulder... cop. Picture wearing their worst cases around your neck like a chain.

  Is it all worth it over just me and a few baby-killing Molesters? Having trouble sleeping at night? If they don't own you yet you will have trouble once they own you and start making you do their dirty deeds.

  Many Molestors, Dirty Cop included told me he was so grief-stricken, so horrified by the evil deeds he did that he couldn't sleep. That left him 2 options. Drugs or screaming into his pillow over and over until he passed out. I've heard the gang councils it's grief-stricken members to do just that and many, many of their gang have told me they did just that every night to be able to sleep.

  So here's my song... I dedicate it to you Bay City Police, Sheriffs, Bay City F.B.I. and even to their staff and janitors. Without your fine police work none of my story would be possible. This song is merely a polite tip of the hat. A dedication not meant to express the views or beliefs of anyone. Enjoy!

  To be sang as a parody of the song "Basketball Jones".

Child-Molester Cop, I am a Child-Molester Cop
I am a Child-Molester Cop, oh yeah
My partner's a Child-Molester too
Ever since I was a young Rookie, I be taking bribes
In fact I was the cheapest-bribe taker on all of the force

Then one day the Molesters gave me some cash
And I loved that payoff
I spent that cash in a single afternoon (it wasn't much)

That cash was like everything to me (it wasn't much)
I know the gang kills children (I didn't get paid much)
Maybe that's why I can't sleep at night
I need some help from my brother cops
I need someone to stand beside me
I need morons who will arrest anyone I want for free
A group of morons I can count on
Someone like the Wausau P.D. Who I wont pay a thing
Cause there ain't much cash to spit up
So Molesters give me cash (it wasn't much)
{Child-Molesters sing repeatedly...}
(Child-Molester Cop, oh yeah, chump change payoff)
(We own our Child-Molester Cop for chump change)
{While Chump master Child-Molester sings/speaks)
Yeah that little girl's so sweet
Just look at her  Maybe I'll finish this one day, maybe not?

   YOU WANT PROOF??? Yeah... I did it... and it wasn't funny one bit !!!

  Sooo... there I was. Dazed from the combination of drugs and sleep deprivation in what I presume was inside a Bay City Public School. It was between doping's and I was semi-lucid. The gang were on-guard and prepping for the next filmed gang-rape scene. Yeah... I'd attacked. Got in a few good licks too. So did the dozen or more kidnappers working this particular shift.

  I wanted out... They were in my way. So I hatched a plan. It was a dangerous and foolhardy plan at best.

  Give me half a chance and... well, I can get violent. It's no secret. The Molestors and mine own stories are all about who is the violent one and frankly... well... But you give me a little bit less than half a chance and I can be quite funny. I've gotten huge rooms of people laughing and have kept them laughing for hours when I got on a roll. Prove it? Yeah, I'd bet my life on it. Then again... I picture walking into a room full of Dirty... cops and Mid-Michigan... cops  and hearing one of them say. "All right funny guy. Make us laugh and we'll believe you". yeah... sounds like a fair test to me. Bay City Justice. I've grown a bit pessimistic about it.

  Back to the plan. My foolhardy plan against guys who have hit me a bunch of times and who I've hit a bunch of times. It's no understatement to say... they were on their guard. SO I began my plan. I committed the ultimate evil act possible for any rape victim (according to ALL of the... cops I've ever met) and is the greatest upon great proof against me. What was it... Queue the Jaws theme... I told a joke. Da da da da da da da DUM DUM! The on-guard troops... laughed. So I told another... and another and so on and so on... Yeah... they filmed it all. Picture the music getting louder... more sinister... I take a few steps closer and... tell another joke... Da da... da dum dum DUM DUM DUM DUM! Standing next to one of the gang I kick the jerk in the side of the knee with all my might! Then turn and with my fingers spread in a "V" poke out the eyes of the guy on the other side. Then I attack the very surprised guards. What happened after that? Hey... you win some... you lose some...

  Picture the scene again... I tell a joke... another joke... another and another... then drugs reset my long-term memory. My plan to escape... even the memories of the last few minutes are gone or unavailable. Like any other drug impaired victim who knows what I did. Usually, it was being nice. Sometimes... not so nice. Maybe I begin the plan from start, maybe not?

  Proof... the Child-Molestors brag it's great proof against me. Their dirty... cops brag it's great proof against me, the clean police (are there ANY left in America?) who've seen said films told me it's all the proof they needed to see, the many would-be vigilantes I've met told me it's great proof against me...

  They tell me there's a lot of people out there who go by the nicknames lefty, 3 fingers, gimpy, limpy, one-eye, the blind guy, and worse out there and every one of them hates my guts & most cant wait for the Bosses final call for revenge against me.

  I'll say it in the most gross truthfull way I can imagine. Sure were a lot of children in the above paragraph. Worse? With the gang's drugs and such I suspect the possibility there's a whole lot more children out there dead and maimed than I know.

  I guess you have 2 options. Option 1: enforce the law after a fair investigation or 2) Submit the case to the Michigan State Police Motto: "Destroy the Victim. That'll shut'em up". That is their motto... ain't it. If it ain't they sure fooled me.

  Proof... yeah. Whatever...

  WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE IEEEEEE.. Yup... all of us! Not exaggerated one bit...

  Sooo... there I was... watching the news. A daily ritual unbroken for decades by myself. The news reporter was chatting on and on and on about what I don't recall and then he talks about the public apathy surrounding the asteroid that the government had told us was going to wipe out all life on earth.

  Me? I was astonished! Dumbfounded? Alarmed at the possibility that something so major could happen and I not know it? I decided the odds it could've happened publicly for weeks and I didn't know to be Ludacris at best (mathematically speaking) and went to research it.

  Then I went to every friend and acquaintance I had and confronted them with this question. "You thought the world was about end and you didn't even bring it up in conversation"?

  Most said they figured I was so current on the news and world events that they assumed I knew already.

  I pondered if the gang were involved... I wouldn't wait long for their boasts.

  It seems they saw it on the news and figured that if the world was going to end it might turn into a time of reconciliation, of confessing one's sins, of relieving one's self publicly. So a call was made throughout the gang to kidnap all of the Kids Anyone Can Hit and keep them drugged to be sacrificed in a last day party and gore fest that only the most perverse minds could imagine. Lest anyone start getting chummy with them because the end was near. Once the news came back that the asteroid wasn't hitting the Bosses simply handed down an order the Kids be released.

  "We told them to say that. Didn't you notice everyone you asked had the same answer and worded it the exact same way"?

  See the kinds of perversion I have to put up with?

  WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE IEEEEEE FOLLOW-UP...

  Sooo... what could I do after the above? I wondered about what happened but figured it was probably such a public spectacle and such that of course there would be books and documentaries on the subject. Films o pleanty and all. Why dig through texts now when I could just dig through the assembled news after it'd congealed?

  Wow! Was I disappointed. It only now occurs to me that I still never did research the subject like I'd planned. No films, documentaries, no historical accounts, no... nothing much arose. I kinda sorta wonder? How was it to be alive and free in America back then? Was there panic in other countries? Is there a subculture, some kinda secret sign everyone who lived through the crisis learned and I was never taught it? What happened? I did find a comedy on the subject once. It was horrible and couldn't watch the entire thing. Was that part of history like unto that film? Was it? I kinda wonder? Well, not enough to do like, actual research on the subject. But I kinda wonder?

  Huh?

  Serial-killers want to know... a continued story.

  It's a Weirdism. It will add nothing to my story. I suspect it shall add little or no defense value in & of itself. So here it is... whatever...

  Yeah... I prayed. A lot! From beginning to end. I usually did. Even in nearly every story listed on this web site. Here's what happened.

  There I was... in some well-lit brick & tile room at the bottom of a pile of young men & teens covered in splattered blood. The Head Torturer had both his arms out and was freely flowing blood from both his wrists. A medical tech, dressed so, had put bandages on his wrists & was wrapping them one at a time in gauze.

  He'd told me he was a professional child-torturer, killer of children for profit & fun. It was his job to torture kids & he loved it! Inevitably, when you torture frail children, some died he explained to me. If a little kid got hurt to bad at a given torture session it was cheaper to pay off the parents & say you were sorry than to pay a costly medical bill. Someone had to kill the children. Why not someone who liked doing it? Like him?

  Picture Baby me laying beneath a pile of men & teens who were holding me down. Picture a man whaving his wrists bandaged talking to me. That man, The Head Torturer turned his attention to me. He said he was going to kill me for what I did to him!

  A man, even shorter than him, I'd seen him before & everyone there was subordinate to him whenever we met. He told him no. "Why didn't you kill him when he stabbed you? I already called our Client and told them they could pick him up & that he was all right".

  The Head Torturer claimed his mind was pre-occupied with tending his injuries. Now that his wounds had been tended he wanted revenge... NOW!

  The Man Shorter than him said it was too late. The call had been made & the Client was on the way to pick me up. There would be no revenge. He had a reputation of excellence to consider & it wasn't happening since the client had already been called & was on the way.

  H.T. demanded my name and address.

  The Short Man refused. He claimed he didn't know. Confidentiality was a big part of the job. No names were exchanged.

  I recall the next sentence. "Then I'll just wait until the guy comes to pick him up & get his license plate number & kill him at home".

  The Short Man was not happy. He told him he knew better than to say that. Confidentiality was their most important service. Now he ordered that when I was to be picked up everyone in the room should be with him so he knew no one was trying to find out the client's identity.

  WOW! Was H.T. furious!

  The Short Man told him no one was stopping him. The Client wouldn't be by for hours, since I was on their truth drug even now he could feel free to question me all he wanted to figure out who I was & where I lived and kill me on his own time.

  SO he did... on their "drug(s?).

  What's your name? He asked it over & over.

  David.

  No. What's your full name? He asked it over & over.

  David. He got bored of his line of questions, but it took a long time of in & out delirium.

  So he changed it up. What is your Dad's name? He asked it over & over.

  Daddy.

  No. What's his real name. He asked it over & over.

  Daddy.

  What's your Mother's name? He asked it over & over.

  Mommy.

  What's your Mother's real name? He asked it over & over.

  Mommy. He got bored of this too... eventually.

  Where do you live? He asked it over & over.

  My house.

  Where is it? He asked it over & over.

  I don't know? Every answer was truthful and to the best of my ability. Like this website today. The whole story. No half truths, no lies.

  Before I was about to leave the Head Torturer ranted wildly. He told me I was lucky & he would've killed me for scarring him.

  I remember taunting him that I thought My Daddy could easily beat the short man up.

  He said he wouldn't have done it himself. He knew children who'd climb in my window at night for a few bucks & kill me by poisoning me. "I've done it before". "They've done it before for me".

  The guy in charge made it a point to collect his entire Baby Torture Crew & told them there'd best be no attempt to be a straggler or learn my identity under pain of death.

  My Cousin arrived & ordered me drugged & they injected me with who knows what?

  ...

  I wake up at home in a baby carrier I'd never seen before. My Cousin lifted me out of the carrier by wrapping one hand around my right ribs & lifting me up. My arms and legs dangled down & swung freely in our darkened living room/bedroom (with my bedroom door open) with the thick curtains tightly drawn shut (like they normally were).

  True.

 

 

  Every Mid-Michigan... cop I ever met & chatted with either had no opinion of Child-Molesters or thought they were heros.

  Did you ever notice... the Child-Molestor asked me. That every Bay City Cop you ever met either talked good about us (The Child-Molesters as a gang or as a community) or had no opinion?

  Yeah I warrily answered him.

  That's because  they know that if we find out they've been bad-mouthing us we'll punish them Usually in the form of a gang-rape and sometimes on their kids.

  I told him that if confronted legally surely dirty cops would lie or talk poorly of the gang to throw off suspicion.

  He told me they lie thusly less and less as they are in the gang longer. We tell them it's okay to insult us when they get confronted sometimes. But if we find out they dissed us even with our permission we still punish them later. That's why it's harder to get some of the older dirty cops to dis the gang because they know that if they dis us even with our permission they'll get punished. Sometimes they tell us they just had to do it. But that don't mean nothing at their torture session. We usually don't quit until they're on their knees and begging us to stop (pity the fool who drops to his knees too soon).

  Want more dirty cops to feel the lash of their rapist masters? Force them to publicly insult their masters. Want twice the fun while you do it? Tell them about the inevitability of gang retaliation if they do and make sure you watch them closely for their "tell". That flinch every dirty... cop makes when they lie to YOU, the people they're paid to protect!

  ENJOY!

  buttbuddy [ bət/ˈbədē ] Anyone who pretends to be a friend and or employer of their rape victim. example: "We raped him good and told the cops we were buttbuddies so now they're

prosecuting our victim! Ha"! 8

  YOU CAN STOP LYING NOW... because I know the truth...

  A shortie...

  "My Cousin" walked up to me. I think it was just before one of my torture sessions but which gauntlet/pain/pre-serial-killer funtime warm-up it was escapes me at the time of this writing & is irrelevant to the story. Standing in My Mother's Parent's living room My Cousin barked at me. I was NOT as innocent as I tried to act & he knew better. He, "they" had been torturing me on their drug(s?) as of late & it acts like a truth drug. In addition to inducing delirium and hallucinations, coma, & the premature deaths of many, many, many children (easy to get away with if you own the... cops, coroners too). He said I talked on & on about serial-killing so he knew... "they" knew I was a serial-killer AND that I was going out there & killing lots of innocent people. "You can stop lying now"! He knew better.

  He added in stuff I heard straight from Duh Jerk's own mouth & from the mouths of self-righteous kidnapping raping serial-killing card-carrying child-molestors & even from a few of their self-professed victims who said they felt pretty good about torturing me. They ALL knew I was a recreational serial-killer. They'd seen the films & listened to me go on & on about  it so I could just drop the lies right now. They knew better.

  Just "another" weirdism? We're talking about people's lives here. I ask you Reader. How does one defend themselves from this?

  Whatever...

  SHORTEST BROTHEL STAY... EVER!!! The short version of a looooong story...

  Perversion... filmed perversion will bring the Molestors victory they always brag.

  I whined. "But the cops will be able to tell I was on drugs"!

  Lots of them brag back (a common Molestor saying). "You being on drugs only strengthens our case". Make no mistake reader... a fight in court, a 'case' was ALWAYS their goal from the beginning. Always.

  always al·ways /ˈôlˌwāz/ adverb 1 at all times; on all occasions: "the sun always rises in the east" synonyms: every time, each time, at all times, all the time, without fail, ... moreantonyms: never, seldom, sometimes

  2. as a last resort; failing all else: "if the marriage doesn't work out, we can always get divorced" synonyms: as a last resort, no matter what, in any event, in any case,

  I recall being in a Bay City Public School Gymnasium... we were filming in a corner draped with sheets of various dull tones (dull, it was child-molesters... of course "dull"... cheap too!). Fagboy & Duh Jerk had set up a bed in front of a camera & jocks and nerds filmed Fagboy, laying on my chest, while I held him to my bosom, while he suckled on my breast. Yeah, I said it. Breast. It seems they'd bragged they'd kidnapped me, drugged me, & filled me with female hormones, & made a porno with Fagboy & even Duh Weasel drinking milk... from my new bought & paid for breasts!

  During thee mocking session afterwards Duh Jerk & Fagboy boasted. "No one will ever believe the word of a transsexual over ours". Now they could put The Gym behind them forever because my accusations would seem like those of a jilted pervert & I could look froward to a life void of the possibility anyone anywhere would ever help me against the gang. Game, set, match.

  Yeah... I fought. Usually do. Duh Jerk bragged it's what he likes best about me. Smiling he'd look at the wounded and say. "I don't care who gets hurt".

  Fade to black...

  I wake up in a bed, slapped awake. I try to sit up but the drug(s?) they have me on pull me right back down. They'd drugged me & dropped me off at a Detroit homosexual slave brothel. The staff here were particularly skilled at breaking men, changing them into drugged out female slaves for profit & they never failed & they'd paid them extra to make sure I would be particularly "trained". Fagboy, Duh Weasel, & Shortsuff all mocked me & told me they'd take delight in making me service them sexually after I'd been broken & would star in even more pornos with me to seal my fate.

  Duh Jerk asked the owner to describe what he was going to do to me & he promised I would service only the cheapest & most base clients for chump change. $5 tricks for the desperate. A death sentence of disease & abuse where they might, might cut me loose at the end to live out my days as a slave in one of their nursing homes, after I'd gone to the... cops & received my final humiliations at their hands in their interrogation rooms, filing a report. He gave me 6 months to live, maybe a year, in horror where they'd personally tell clients I liked being beat, show them films for inspiration, & fill my last days with smiling horror.

  Then they excused themselves to go have victory drinks.

  Yeah... I insulted them back. But it was using the truth. The truth... you know... the truth... the thing the Bible says will set me free... that.

  They told a pair of transsexual slaves to brief me on the rules & what my duties would soon be.

  They tried to tell me... I was deep in thought & ignored them during lucid moments. Soon, the drug fog I was in cleared enough to sit up. The pair still was discussing the rules which I recall little of. It was basically... do what you're told AND they're going to torture me.

  I asked them to be quiet. "Wanna escape"? I asked it a few times.

  They said yes, but escape was impossible. They were frail, girly men & the guards were huge Jocks with Machine Guns. But eventually they told me they would escape... IF it were possible.

  So I looked around the room for weapons. The pair told me the Brothel went out of the way to make sure there were no weapons anywhere so slaves could escape.

  I looked around the room. There was a bed, a wimpy table, & a lamp. When I checked the lamp I found it was a thick one made of solid wood that I'll call... Earth's Most Solid Lamp. I yanked the cord off & asked about the positions of the guards.

  They told me we were on the 2nd floor. There was a guard with a Machine Gun down the hall which was filled with brothel rooms where actual clients were being serviced at this time. There were 2 guards at the bottom of the stairs & 2 at the door & a few of the staff were armed & they'd heard men with guns were in a building across the street.

  I hatched a plan.

  So I walked out of the room with Earth's Most Solid Lamp in hand .

  To be continued... probably? But most likely not as I sent the F.B.I. a copy of the rest.

  I dedicate the dead of this story and their wasted lives to The Detroit F.B.I.

  See: Shortest Brothel Stay... EVER!

 

  Relax Citizen. the F.B.I. is here to protect you. Just like we protect David A. George...

  ANOTHER DETROIT F.B.I. DEDICATION? That makes me twice as dedicated to Shawna's return as you guys! No need to thank me for TWO dedications... even though you've made not a single dedication to Miss Jones nor myself.

  dedication ded·i·ca·tion /ˌdedəˈkāSH(ə)n/ noun 1. the quality of being dedicated or committed to a task or purpose: "his dedication to his duties" synonyms: commitment, application, diligence, industry, resolve, ... moreantonyms: apathy, laziness, indifference 2. the action of dedicating a church or other building: "the dedication and unveiling was attended by some 5,000 people"

  I gave you the definition of the word dedication because I don't want you to be embarrassed in front of your peers, it may be that none of you Detroit FBIers know the word. It is as an unpaid public service that I provide it for you. THAT'S 3 THINGS I DID FOR YOU GUYS! COUNT'EM... 3.

  No need to thank me Detroit F.B.I. & please don't send me any money. I know I'm grateful & I'm sure Miss Jones is grateful for your service & dedication. Just knowing you're out there keeping the world safe for people like Duh Jerk, his Weasel, & Fagboy is reward enough for me. GULP!

  "His "dedication" to his duties? Did I innocently make another funny?

  I... stand alone...

  I was an atheist back then, standing alone in the defunct hospital, surrounded by an army of Jocks, Jerk, & the 4 Stars Fagboy, The Mayor's Brat, Duh Weasel, & Shortstuff (before his height increasing surgery). They'd just tortured me for weeks... working in shifts... there was a single theme... "You have to kill an innocent of my choosing or the pain will never end & we'll drive you insane... tick... tick... tick..

  ...

  weeks pass...

  ...

  At their command I grab the pistol loaded with a single bullet while Jerk & the 4 Stars all take cover & a wall of giant Jocks interpose themselves between them & I.

  I approach the begging teen who''s crudely tied to a chair & begging for his life...

  I resolve to get the teen's suffering over as quickly as possible by not drawing it out, not stalling, there would be no mad ddash for the leaders ending in a desperation shot at one of them, there would be no more stalling for time...

  I looked over & could see the camera mounted on a tripod filming the entire scene unfolding in Bay City's downtown Defunct Hospital.

  I walked up to the teen... I resolved that my aim would be true... there would be no 2nd shots to finish the job.

  I did try to bargain for the teen's life though... much like the events of my entire life & the sum of it... I failed. Duh Jerk & the gang would not spare anyone except me, but only if I killed an innocent... on film.

  I leveled the gun at the teen's head & unceremoniously pulled the trigger. Usually we go through a lil game they like to play with guns... empty gun/loaded gun. Not this time...

  I pulled the trigger... BANG!

  Their laughter was riotous...

  True.

  CHILD-MOLESTER ALERT!!! November 14, 2017

  Yeah... I've spent several days in yet another (sigh...) gang SLEEP-DEPRIVATION ATTACK!!!

  In recent days it was just the same animal noises tape played over & over with an occasional soft firecracker lit nearby. Easy to ignore, so I obeyed the Bible. If they persecute you in one city, move to the next. So I left Armold MD & moved to Anapolis MD. With only a slight delay the attack began anew.

  Last night, the attack was taken to the next level. At least 2 men (I heard them talking, children too... of course) who were in poor physical shape pounded on the trees not 25 yards from my place with what I'd guess was a plank or log after I got home shortly after dark until after midnight. My Ritchie Hwy/Boulter's home is isolated from my neighbors who I'd bet heard very little if anything.

  When I moved to investigate the very nearby "poorly made animal noises" they stopped immediately leading me to believe they were produced by someone watching on a small camera as I don't think someone that close could've avoided my search. I checked the trees and found the bark on some to be bruised & battered due to repeated pounding by out of shape men. How do I figure that? They didn't seem to be able to pound for long before tiring. Whoever is in charge of stalking me is surely slacking. Martin Oak would surely have coked those guys up & they'd have pounded like mighty molesters into the night. Poor show slackers. Poor show indeed.

  This has strained me physically & mentally. I'm probably what I'll call in the early stages of sleep deprivation. You get tired, mental abilities only mildly impaired. I've come up with "a plan", we'll see.

  What does this mean?

  Since I was "lured" here by an easily provable bait & switch con I can only conclude the gang, which boasts interstate friends from state to state in the molestor community (who as a courtesy tell me they all cover for one another... for a fee) I figure they wanted me here or nearby for reasons unknown... but I can guess (and none of my guesses are good). A simple frame-job or is "The End" for me. If so the gang has promised me 100 times that anywhere from 1 to thousands (the thousands is more recent) will die horrible deaths to insure the Gang's revenge for the indignity of "The Gym".

  Simply put... lots & lots of people are probably about to die. Quite possibly horribly.

  I suspect that if I am unable to extricate myself or get the proper amount of R.E.M. Sleep (look it up... cops) I will grow increasingly irrational, unpredictable, & all the other good stuff that comes with sleep deprivation.

  Simply put... the gang would NOT do this to me if their ducks were not all in a row.

  To that end I suspect that the... cop(s?) on duty last night responsible for answering calls to my address was indeed crooked, in case I called the police. Failing that the gang tell me they would normally keep them busy during attacks by pinning them to a single spot by creating family disturbances, bar disturbances & such where cops are pinned to one spot but no one actually goes to jail. I'd bet on the crooked... cop being on call.

  Driven insane by madmen for reasons of profit & revenge. Not as glamorous as... cops try to tell me.

  Please help me!

  IN THE AIR... THE STORY CONTINUES...

  Sooo... there I was. About age 2 or so. One never does quite get used to suddenly waking up in a strange place  without warning. Having no idea where you are, nor any idea of where you are going. I was seated in the backseat of a light airplane. My Bro was asleep, he was always asleep when i woke up. The 2 guys in the front were absolutely dedicated to my pain, the called me names, invited me to discuss topics, then announced they were all stupid, I was wrong, my subject was immoral, or only stupid people did it. My Mother's Father & his Son, My Mother's Brother. Whenever those 2 were near a slap-fest was sure to come soon.

  Not much to see at age 2 in the back seat of a light airplane. presumably the plane was on auto-pilot & we all just sat there. I asked if I could look around, see the ground. I was threatened to even try to look outside nor undo my seat belt for any reason. Period. Insult, insult, insult. Yaw... not much going on there.

   The part that irritated me? My Bro woke. He too asked to look outside & was denied. So he undid his safety belt, got up & looked. Yeah... they smacked him up. Not bad really over the coming years. I was jealous he got to look out in his disobedience & I, being "The Good Kid" never got a single peek. Just threats & more threats if I mentioned the subject next to my standing Bro whom they even let sit up front once during his disobedience while simultaneously threatening me.

  When I got home my family pounded on me long & hard based on my Bro's... on "The Guy Who I Think Society Will Call Serial-Rapist's" disobedience. I was not allowed to stop him. Touch him, do anything but try to reason with serial-rapist (who was never reasonable a day in his life). Failing to control the child who knew I'd be beaten for his every misdeed meant much pain & solitary confinement for me. Oh well.

  I think I was 6 or so. My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) & the entire family had just come down hard on me for Serial-Rapist's seat belt removal. Grounding. A lengthy gauntlet. Name-calling, deprivation. She was furious with me & it took days for Serial-Rapist's hand to stop glowing ruby red from how long he pounded on me in glee in the gauntlet. All in all... I had to be taught a lesson she said.

  Me? After the stars from my punishment faded from view I pondered the situation before me. I had been punished over & over & over & over & over & over & over & over for my Bro's disobedience. He got to see out the plane, he got to sit by the controls in his disobedience. He even got to pound on me long and hard for my failure to stop him. Simply put the gang was pouring it's vengeance on me & I was getting angry. Yeah... I said it. Angry. I figured I had nothing to lose. So I resolved that if I should awake on the airplane again I'd undo my seat belt & look at the ground. Yeah... I was The Good Kid. A nickname I answered to at home & at school. I hated that nickname.

  It didn't take long... I awoke on the plane. Same people, same situation. I asked to look at the ground. I was threatened again.

  I tried to discreetly take off my seat belt but Serial-Rapist noticed pointed & shouted. "DAVID'S TAKING OFF HIS SEAT BELT"!

  My Mother's Brother sprang as I tried to stand and violently attacked me landing slaps and blows. I tried all the harder to stand and h, being unbuckled himself, slammed me into my seat as I rose to a height in my seat where I could see the ground. All clouds. Nothing to see here. He rained blows down on me and buckled me forcefully. The pair promised me much pain later based on my disobedience.

  Later...

  My Mother corned me at one of the Grande Parties at her parents when they were all good and drunk (and high). She announced that my willful disobedience required a great punishment. When she asked me why I did it, why I looked? I said. "I just wanted to see the ground like Johnny does".

  My Mother almost always began a gauntlet the same way. "Everybody line up! We're all going to hit David".

  Children & any adults at the party who cared to all lined up. Everyone slapped me in the face to their heart's content. Most people landed 20-30 blows & quit but if the individual gauntlet enthusiast chose to go into the hundred the subject was not even brought up. Many participants told me they planed to mix in punches & kicks between slap. The rules were simple for me. I could block no blows or we'd begin again. Blocking punches & kicks was acceptable. In the past I glossed over these gauntlets. Here I shall endeavor to tell of one a accurately as possible & with no exaggeration.

  Picture a "carnival atmosphere" develops instantly. Everyone is giddy & spirits are high. Well, not mine.

  Adults, both new & regular "attendees" litter My Mother's Parent's Living Room & the line of children extends into the kitchen where My Mother's Parents & siblings are all seated along with other adults. The place is packed to the gills & moving through the crowd is difficult, like usual.

  My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) begins the Gauntlet like normal. All blows are exclusively to the fact except poorly aimed blows that could hit my forehead or neck quite often (Trivia: I suffer from Graves Disease. An abnormality of the thyroid gland located in the neck, had impacted incisors & a variety of other complications). SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Then she motioned for whosoever was 1st in line to begin. While I don't recall 40 years later the order of who went I recall who was there. More often than not the smiling & giddy Serial-Rapist was next.

  How do I know how many times I got slapped? I counted them. Even kept tables, graphs, & indexes on the subject. A subject that literally terrified me. I knew that if that data was ever discovered...

  Serial Rapist, like My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) always smiled during my gauntlets. He rarely quit until 100. As did my 3 Cousins. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 1st of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 3rd of the 3 Cousins gleefully steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! BLOCK! I've reflexively blocked one of his slaps

  My Mother smiled. "YOU BLOCKED! Everybody line up we're all going to hit David Again"! They all get back in line.

  My Mother hits me some more. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP

  Serial Rapist, like My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) always smiled during my gauntlets. He rarely quit until 100. As did my 3 Cousins. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 1st of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 3rd of the 3 Cousins gleefully steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  My Trio of Sisters step up. By comparison to what will come they are rest for me.

  1: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  2: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  3: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  Next the 6-10 children present. While everyone there knows them I have no idea who they are. They are not allowed to talk to me under threat of great pain.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One of the adults distracts My Mother & she turns her head.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! My Mother turns to face the Gauntlet & smiles anew.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! BLOCK! I reflexively block another slap by accident.

  My Mother smiled. "YOU BLOCKED! Everybody line up we're all going to hit David Again"! They all get back in line.

  My Mother hits me some more. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP

  Serial Rapist, like My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) always smiled during my gauntlets. He rarely quit until 100. As did my 3 Cousins. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 1st of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 3rd of the 3 Cousins gleefully steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  My Trio of Sisters step up. By comparison to what will come they are rest for me.

  1: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  2: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  3: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  Next the 6-10 children present. While everyone there knows them I have no idea who they are. They are not allowed to talk to me under threat of great pain.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One kid steps up & chooses to go into the hundreds. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One of the adults distracts My Mother & she turns her head.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! My Mother turns to face the Gauntlet & smiles anew.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One of the Adults says. "Hey Nina want a beer"? It's always one she has the hots for & if it works the pain will go from bad to worse. She accepts & leaves the adults in the room to finish the Gauntlet.

  The Adults push the children out of the way. Slaps are hard, fast, and furious. The 1st Adult steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd Adult steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  A third Adult steps up. They post guards at the kitchen who's sole job is to deflect any curious adults in the kitchen & to warn of their coming.

  A 3rd Adult steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! KICK ATTEMPT! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  A huge male pushes his way to the front of the line. PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! KICK ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK! PUNCH ATTEMPT! BLOCK!

  My Mother bursts in & sees him trying to punch me. "DAVID! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM TO MAKE HIM TRY TO PUNISH YOU"?!?!

  I answered. "Nothing". He did it because he could.

  She called me a liar. Now I would be punished for whatever I did to the nice man to make him punch me.  My Mother smiled. "Everybody line up we're all going to hit David Again"! They all get back in line.

  My Mother hits me some more. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP

  Serial Rapist, like My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) always smiled during my gauntlets. He rarely quit until 100. As did my 3 Cousins. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 1st of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 3rd of the 3 Cousins gleefully steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  My Trio of Sisters step up. By comparison to what will come they are rest for me.

  1: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  2: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  3: SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  Next the 6-10 children present. While everyone there knows them I have no idea who they are. They are not allowed to talk to me under threat of great pain.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  Serial Rapist & My Trio of Cousins all sneak back into line & swear they hadn't had a chance to go again. My Mother okays them for another go.

  Serial Rapist, like My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) always smiled during my gauntlets. He rarely quit until 100. As did my 3 Cousins. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 1st of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd of the 3 Cousins steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 3rd of the 3 Cousins gleefully steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One of the adults distracts My Mother & she turns her head.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Punch attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Kick attempt! BLOCK! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! My Mother turns to face the Gauntlet & smiles anew.

  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  One of the Adults says. "Hey Nina want a beer"? It's always one she has the hots for & if it works the pain will go from bad to worse. She accepts & leaves the adults in the room to finish the Gauntlet.

  The 1st Adult steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  The 2nd Adult steps up. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

  If anything... I am under reporting the hell I went through & a third go around for a "reflex block" was rather typical when people who boasted they were going to mix in punches & kicks. Groundings & lengthy solitary confinement often followed as did repeat sessions. My Mother simply announced at any time over the next year or 2 that she thought I hadn't been punished enough. Or there was some finer point she meant to bring up & hadn't, so another gauntlet as bad or worse was in order. Again... no exaggeration & I'll use words like... common & mundane to describe the event. Yeah... I'll call it an "Event".

  My Cousin corralled me the next day & wanted to boast on his choreography of the entire situation. He'd set it up from day one. Even bringing in a guy My Mother had the hots for just for the occasion. He bragged about the adults & was disappointed they hadn't landed crippling blows or seriously injured me. Then he laughed about it all having happened yesterday. Then called me a simpleton for agreeing it'd happened yesterday. Seems that I was so bruised up that my family leapt at his invitation to drug me up & put me on ice until my wounds healed. He'd been taking me from place to place for weeks now raping me with men, women, boys, girls, animals, and appliances until my wounds healed & gotten tons of great child-porn. All he had to do was either put a mask on me, angle the camera so the bruises couldn't be seen until the 2 weeks ended, or just had his ladies cake on the make-up & made a fortune off the entire thing & got enough films to blackmail everyone there for life. Win/win & it was all thanks to me. He told me it was even proof for later. To the... cops no family would punish a child so unless that kid was truly a scumbag & my defense just wouldn't cut it. No one would believe me (duh).

  Then he bragged I was his shill on the plane. Well, My Bro & I. He asked me if I wanted to know how the scam worked?

  He said the pair of us being drugged covered for the other children who were drugged in the cargo compartment (on oxygen when needed, but rarely). The theory was as the pair landed the requested an Ambulance. That way if... cops found them they'd say we got into drugs & the kids in the back must've gotten into the drugs too & crawled unseen into the back. With the testimony of 2 Ambulance Crew who'd swear the kids were good kids but they had a history of getting into their parent's medicine & they've dealt with us before they had no fear of being caught. The kids in the back would be shuttled to a friendly hospital where loyal gang-banger kids would practice the story over & over, claiming THEY were the kids in the back. Since the Ambulance Crew would be quick to put oxygen masks on the kids the... cops would never get a good look at them IF... cops somehow got involved. Case closed.

  Me? It's 12-13-17 & I'm getting tired of writing about the subject. So I'll start the next one.

  My Mother corners me at her Parents. It seems I've been caught in a bold-faced lie & as The Good Kid an epic punishment was in order. Often she slapped on me mercilessly to the limits of her 1st wind. It usually took 200+ slaps to get there. SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! A mere 200 slaps... usually she went into the 220s but... eh.

  My Mother announced, eventually, after much begging by myself, what I was accused of. "You said you know how to fly an airplane"!

  I told her it was no lie. I did know.

  My Cousin came in & announced a test of sorts. He'd hired a pilot who would ask me questions about how to fly an airplane.

  I had no choice but to play their sick game. My Mother left the room. Now only children, Adults (some regular attendees, some 1st timers I'd never see again, like usual), my siblings, & My Cousin were there. My Mother's Parents & Siblings all sat at the table in the kitchen. How do i know? I could see them there with yet more adults, the kitchen was packed. Again.

  The Pilot came in. He was in his 60s or so, grey haired. Looked almost "grandfatherly". Like an average Joe. He began to ask me questions about the basics of what is an airplane & what makes an airplane fly. His kindergarten questions actually irritated me in time as I answered them all. The said. "Let me save you some time. An airplane flies based on 4 forces acting on it. Lift, gravity, thrust, & drag. When all 4 of these are equal the plane hovers or is at rest". As I spoke on My Cousin talked to The Pilot. "Is that true"?

  The Pilot agreed with me.

 

  He laughed and said. "AH HAH! You're wrong"! The punishment could begin.

  My Cousin & his cronies all agreed I'd failed the test. I stuck to my guns. I was right. Then My Cousin fished a stack of airplane books from My Mother's Parent's room. Large & tall. It was all aircraft books. How to fly planes & every adult in the room picked up a book & tried to find if what I said was true. My Mother's Brother came into the room & picked up a book & began grilling me as well.

  He changed his questions to the technical. All the major parts of the plane. Ailerons, rudder, interments. I answered them all.

  It was at the ailerons he screwed up. Or was it I who screwed up? He said something like. "The ailerons just like Wilbur & Orville Wright invented".

  I told him he was wrong. The inventors of the airplane had not invented the aileron. It was another guy. The pair used flexible wings & a technique called "wing-warping" to steer the plane.

  About 10 minutes later, my punishment all the more assured because I was drawing it out. I asked my Cousin where he got the books?

  He said the Library.

  I asked him to let me pick a book (I'd read many of them) & flipped to a page where the Wright Flyer picture was and pointed out it had no ailerons.

  The Pilot said . "That's a misprint". It had to be. WOW! Did he look nervous, like he was grasping at straws.

  My Cousin informed him the test would go on. "Someone's going to get punished. Either it's him or you". He would say it many times after this.

  Aircraft history was concluded. They went to what to do in given situations while piloting. What do you do in a crash dive? How do you do a barrel roll? What do you do if... well you get the idea & I answered every single question.

 

  I told him...

   Not even close to done. And I haven't even talked about the child I stabbed yet. Another day perhaps... I'm getting tired of wasting my time trying to get... cops to consider me. To save what is left of my pathetic life.

  Maybe another day?

  Until then... Whatever..

 

------------------------>>>>

  Later, That "Snitch" (yeah, right) & even Duh Jerk himself discussed the barn's "Hexsign" with me.

  Each claimed the  sign was painted on for my sake days before & asked me if I recalled if it was a fresh paint job? It was.

  "Now when you tell cops there was a hexsign on the barn they'll tell you you're crazy because everybody in Munger knows everyone else with a Hexsign painted on their barn". "

  I told him people take interest in those signs & take pictures as they pop up. That it was just as much evidence for me as it was against me based on many factors sure to elude all Mid-Michigan... cops.

  Duh Jerk was not amused.

  You want to kill... Bzzzzzt!   You want to kill... Bzzzzzt! You want to kill... Bzzzzzt!   You want to kill... You want to molest kids...  

   Sooooo... they kept me awake for a long... long time in the Bomb Shelter Garages. Electric shock, gang rapes by every base pervert type imaginable, sleep deprivation, drugs... this time the torture had a theme. The 4 Stars demanded while beating me. "Why are you such a child-molester"?!?!?!?!?

  Of course I denied it. "That's you guys".

  Yeah... I fought back. Those strength robbing drugs made me an easy victim.

  Time passes.... Lots of time...

  Duh Jerk tells me the goal is to keep me awake & doped until I lose my mind. He, the gang brag I'll start to believe the accusations against me are believable.

  I didn't believe them.

  Time passes...

  Rape...

  Rape...

  Pervert groups...

  Animals...

   Children... lots of children...

  ...

   Time passes...

  At first it's subtle. I begin defending myself against the child-molester accusations as though I were guilty of them. Based on the recent child-porn I'd been starring in.

  More rapes...

   More torture..

  Then it's not so subtle. I defend myself based upon my guilt as a child-molester.

   Time passes...

  Drugs...

  No sleep...

  ...

  Lets cut to the end. I'm sitting at a party on their happy drug and bragging about my child-molesting based upon the interrogations & on the films. I'm giddily a child-molester. Just love it. Then no... I become lucid. These aren't my friends... I'm with my torturers. I fight & lose.

  Duh Jerk tells them to wrap it up. They got the films they needed. Now they could do anything they wanted to me for the rest of my life & no one would care. Their ultimate revenge for The Gym (Wow they mention "The Gym" a lot).

  He tells me that the films of the 4 Stars beating me up AS a child-molester will be great proof to a jury one day of their non-involvement ain child-molesting & they'll come of as slick anti child-molester vigilantes. Come out of it all smelling like... like heroes.

  What snappy comeback can I make to this? Which saying will save me in light of this?

  Whatever...

  THE LOGISTICS OF IT ALL... No snappy saying this time...

  A Weirdism if there ever was one. It teaches no moral... it comes to no meaningful conclusion... it does not further my story. As a dedication to law-enforcement excellence I dedicate this tale to the Law-Enforcement Champions of Annapolis Maryland without whom a story like mine would not be possible. This one's for you guys. Take a bow! I'm tired at the time of this writing. Yawn...

  My Mother turned her nose up at me as I stumbled into the 1269 Harrison Street house (Honor Honor Honor).  "Ugh! Were you swimming in the river"?

   The 1st thing that came to my mind? Do I tell her why I'd chosen to wash the blood off myself before I came home in the Saginaw River? Instead I choose a general non-committal answer (a lie of omission). Yeah, I had been swimming in the river.

  "Don't you know that the"... that the bay City Authorities had declared swimming in the Saginaw River to be hazardous to one's health, in part because of raw sewage flowing into Bay City from nearby Saginaw?

  I claimed I'd forgotten that fact. I hadn't. I'd just judged the danger worth it when compared to trying to walk home drenched in blood head to toe.

  She called me a liar. I was up to something. She just didn't know what?

  I asked her what that could possibly be? I was The Good Kid. I'd been obviously swimming, alone, in broad daylight. I wouldn't do it again now that she'd warned me. No harm, no foul.

  I used magician's tricks of misdirection to get her attention off me when I staggered from her presence to my bed.

  She accused me of being drunk anyway.

  Me? I invited her to smell my breath. No alcohol

  After a lengthy interrogation during which she failed to verbally trip me up she left me to drift into oblivion. I'll bet I was out in seconds..

  ...

  Today I stagger into my Bay City 1214 Webster Home (The Last Snitch last bragged the gang had gone to great lengths to conceal I'd ever lived there for years as a teen, go figure) drenched in blood head to toe. My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) Demands screaming to know how I came to be covered in blood?

  Me? The 1st thing I wondered was the statistical improbability that she'd be awake at this time of night (yeah, I think like that from time to time)? I told her I'd been cleaning a deer wit a guy & he'd drenched me in deer's blood as a cruel joke.

  Still screaming my Mother called me a liar! She alleged I'd gotten that way by injuring or killing someone.

  Me? I reminded her of a lifetime of her saying to me. "You're a Christian. And Christians are by definition weak". She'd spent a lifetime telling me that it was impossible that I could win a fight [outside of her presence, she always did love to watch a good fight & forbade me various moves, techniques & hit locations. Though if my opponents did any or all unethical things the subject wasn't even brought up). How could I have been in a fight & was uninjured? It'd be impossible because it'd imply I'd won a fight. A Christian impossibility because all Christians are weak.

  I was absolutely impress when her jaw hit the floor. She was at a complete loss for words. A rare upon rare event I assure the reader. I feel like I should throw in a few more Honor, Honor, Honors.

  Later... when I awoke she acted like it never happened.

  Me too.

  Until a Snitch, who claimed to be sent by Duh Jerk himself (he does that now & again) bragged they'd gotten my bloody clothes from My Mother & it would make great evidence one day. That and they'd arrived at my place not long after I'd drifted off, picked the lock, seized my bloody clothes, & forced my Trio of Sisters to take the Date-Rape Drug, erasing their memories of the entire incident for their advantage.

  I confronted her later. What had happened to the bloody clothes?

  She said she had someone pick my door lock & seized the bloody clothes & threw them away. I'd slept for days & Garbage Day had come and gone. The Trio of Sisters told me they had no memory of any of it though they'd seen it all & stood watching silently with open mouths.

  ...

  Today I stagger into my 1269 home sprayed in blood (Not drenched? Go figure?) and My Mother is on me like white on rice. Why not? She's been smacking me awake all day, ordering me out to play with The Guy I Suspect Society Will Call Serial Rapist to play, I'd been insulted & assaulted singly, in pairs, groups, & gangs. You know... typical 12 year-old stuff. Some kid assaulted me on day 30ish of the sleep-deprivationfest, threatened to take my shovel & kill me with it, tried to take my shovel, presumably to facilitate his threat, I won the struggle for the fight, lifted the shovel over my head & brought it down on his head. In the time it took to bring the shovel down on him... he turned his head & I connected on the back of his head. Shovel in hand... I buried him & went in. Typical 12 year-old summer's day right?

  My Mother (Honor Honor Honor) demanded to know who I'd come to be sprayed with so much blood & accused me of injuring or even killing someone & demanded an explanation.

  I told her it was ketchup. I'd been sprayed with it by a neighbor kid.

  She was furious & slapped me up a long time to illicit a confession.

  Must'a been the drugs because I told her that I planned on standing in the spot until she was done beating on me & then taking a bath & asked her to step up the violence a notch, I was getting tired.

  She quit hitting me.

  I took a bath & went to bed.

  Unlike ALL the other times listed here she brought the incident up many times over the years telling me she was convinced I'd injured or killed someone.

  Me? I stuck to the story. Neighbor kid. Ketchup. Bad joke.

  ...

  Today My Roommate quizzes me why I'd gone swimming in the Saginaw River? Was I drunk? He could see me staggering.

  I lied & told him I was indeed drunk & neglected the need to wash myself in the river to rid myself of the head to toe blood I was drenched in.

  Then I took a bath & went to bed.

  ...

  Today I stagger into my Roommate's presence in the home My Daddy owns (They tell me it's in name only, he doesn't own it on paper, never did) covered head to toe in blood & leaving a visible blood trail.

  Wow! Was he alarmed & demanded an explanation, alleging I'd hurt or killed someone.

  Me? I told him some guy had convinced me to clean a deer with him & he'd drenched me in blood as a bad joke.

  I took a bath. Promptly passed out.  I awoke to my Roommate having unlocked the door & fished my head out of the water. Literally having saved my life.

  I thanked him. Bathed. Then went to bed.

  Later we argued about the bloody clothes. He said he'd thrown them away. I was not happy about it.

  ...

  Today, after my encounter with "The Nuclear Family" I called My New Wife for a ride standing at the Party Store not far from the far end of Old Kawkawlin Road (far end to me, who lived in Bay City) on the highway.

  My New Wife, her Son, and her Daughter all showed up in our car.

  First questions? Why was I drenched in blood?

  Me? I told them I'd been cleaning a deer with someone & as a bad joke they'd poured the blood on me.

  Her Son brought up that night and the blood every few months & asked why I was drenched in blood that night?

  Me? I told him about the fabricated deer, the friend with a bad sense of humor, & then pulled rank on him & told him I didn't want to discuss it as I considered the matter closed. He must've brought it up a bunch of times over the years?

  The Last Snitch said her Son had brought it up at the gang's command over & over during the years. Hoping for some sort of confession from me that never came so they could pervert it for their advantage. He submitted as proof her Son's alleged conviction of a sex crime(s?) was done as part of the plan to make him hate me & to empower him to ensnare me in some base accusation(s?) he'd be all too glad of to take State's Evidence to testify against me on (like everyone else involved).

  Whatever happened to the bloody clothes?

  ...

  The Logistics of it all... the dedication goes out to the Annapolis Police. No snappy comebacks. Just the plain truth. The Bible says the truth shall set you free. We shall see.

  This tale is true to the best of my ability.

  Whatever...

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