Farmers pork sausage speaks

I never exactly or inexactly why I wrote what I did on this blog, but it has gotten to the point this may be a viable blog. lol

Initially I wrote some stuff based on videos of objects I had recorded at my friend's house.

Now, humm, it's so weird in the world I can only say this may be a good place to report the separation of where and what I am, you are, we are, leaving these vitally important questions unable to be grasped.

This does allow for something or someone, control, to use all for whatever bizarre, slave, test subject, created has motives.

If we crime scene,, we are in it.

CSI  me, but how did I get here and why is this deception lingering in all parts of my existence
Who is benefiting from my slavery? My writing? My breathing?

I'm the worst, I tell it like I see it, fucked up and all. I am a detraction to this force holding me in knowledge defiecient, negative punishment, cruel twists, and I would like to file a complaint.

At least, lol, I would consider me the complaint in my very existence. My life is a complaint, a painful, claustrophobic, symptom of a dirty game.

So, yes, I will report that I lost a mind, and now I do mind if I do...truth as best I can bring it. Questions that should have answers are hanging loose all around me.

Join me for a new look at possibilities and illusions in a way that could help you lose your mind. As I say "I think, therefore, I better know where that thought came from."


I"m hoping to lose it all together...lol

Laura Hart
The bi polar American

Rocky's Road to glory...

His family calls him "Rocky" but his Mexican roots, first generation in Arizona, Jose is his given name.

Catholic, of course, and church every Saturday night as Sunday morning most of the family took that day off from the hard labor that kept food on the table, and kept medicine for Rocky.

Nobody seemed to know what was wrong with him. He was young when the problems started. His ability to walk began to wane.

Though as a child he was able to crawl normally, then began pulling himself up on the furniture.

His mother, who worked three jobs, had little time for Rocky, as his grandmother, Abuela, was his keeper.

He never knew much about his father, though his grandmother had plenty to say, mostly in Spanish, which Rocky was only slightly able to understand. But her anger was a universal language.

Rocky stayed home from school, he didn't have a wheelchair until he was almost 12, which meant mobility was difficult, and he spent most of his time in the two room shack where he and his mother, and sometimes her boyfriends lived.

His grandmother had her own home, one with better insulation to keep the hot Arizona summer heat out.

After years of watching him struggle to get to tables, sit on the couch, or try to walk with a cane, his grandmother wanted to change his life.

"I can make you normal, Rocky, make you walk upright like a man."

Rocky was now 16, he had a wheelchair, a girlfriend who brought him fresh fruit and vegetables everyday she returned from the fields.

He would roll outside at sunset each night to await her arrival. His pants protruding, as his legs may not work, but his dick could get hard, and that was something he enjoyed.

Laticia, a small woman, short, heavy set, could do the work of three men in the fields. The boss was a macho Mexican man who didn't appreciate this young girl showing up his crew of part-time American workers.

One night after work on a Friday night, payday, Laticia, with a rag full of squash and beans, thrown over her shoulder, stood in line to pick up her pay.

The boss told her to wait he had run out of money.

All she wanted to do was get back to Rocky who would be waiting for her by the dirt road where the truck dropped off the workers at night.

She would hop on his wheelchair, feeling Rocky's hard-on beneath her, and he would roll the chair toward her house.

But on this night, Rocky would wait, getting angry and frightened that she didn't get off the truck this Friday.

He yelled at the workers, who knew the boss had Laticia somewhere for something they wanted to know nothing about.

Why tell and lose a job you can't lose. "Rocky, she will be okay," one man yelled to him.

Others were laughing at Rocky who was furious as he could not himself go off and find her. His wheelchair, a carriage to the house, the local store, and the dirt road: but he knew he could not get very far.

The truck pulled away, dirt in the air, clinging to the wetness of his tears and sweat, as he worried desperately about his lover.

He swung the chair around and went to his grandmother, busting through her door, a dirt cloud hanging over him as he tried to breath so he could talk.

"They took her, abuela."

"Took who?"

"Laticia, they took her. She wasn't on the truck."

"Maybe she needed a night off from you Rocky, you stalk her like a coyote, now sit down and eat."

"NO!" He yelled. "Help me find her grandmother, you have a car."

"That hardly runs, chico, just sit down she will come back."

"I am sitting down, I sit down all the time, I want to find her, please help."

His grandmother, pressed the wrinkles of her forehead together, looking like she was deciding on something.

"All right, my boy, let us go and look for her."

Rocky looked relieved, as his abuela found her purse and keys, and they went out to the car. The car, with little paint, rust mostly, started up with a couple of pops like gun fire, but the engine kept churning, and gasoline odors surrounded the car.

The tiny Indian woman got into the driver's seat, her head hardly above the steering wheel.

"Where do you want to go Rocky?" she asked.

"To her boss."

Though there was much squealing coming from the car, it made it down the dirt road, onto the highway, spewing some smoke, but still running.

It was pitch black when they arrived at the office, or actually just a shack. The backfire from the car announced their arrival.

A man came out of the darkness, only his white shirt could be seen.

Rocky thru his wheelchair out of the car and jumped in the seat. He wheeled over to the man.

"Laticia, she works for you and has not returned."

A cigarette being dragged on, lit up the man's face. Rocky could see the cuts and scratches. In horror, he suddenly knew that Laticia fought him off, but she didn't win.

"I don't know what you're talking about cripple, but I suggest you leave now."

"He's not leaving unless she comes with us," his abuela yelled out of the car.

He blew smoke into Rocky's face then took the cigarette and put it out on his left leg, smelling burning denim and flesh. Rocky never made a sound, but his legs were not without feeling, only strength.

Rocky got back in the car and told his grandmother to drive away. Which she did about a mile, backfiring all the way. "Stop and let me out."

"You can't do anything Rocky, you're not strong enough." she begged him not to get out of the car.

She could feel the future sometimes and now she had chills waiting as Rocky left to go back and find Laticia, the only girl who cared for him.

It wasn't a backfire, it was a shotgun blast, and then silence.

In an instant his grandmother started the engine pulling around and heading for the shack.

With the headlights dim as the alternator was about as effective as the rest of the pile of junk, she could hardly see. But you don't need to see what you can feel, as the car crashed into the side of the shack.

She hit her head on the steering wheel and was unconscious for a long time.

When she awoke, there was some light on the horizon. She opened the door of the car, and got out.

Rocky's wheelchair lay on the floor on it's side.

"Where's Rocky," she yelled.

She heard a few groans and found her grandson, with his face down, blood trickling down his neck.

"Oh, my god Rocky, don't die on me."

The diminutive woman who had spent her life working hard, was able to drag Rocky to the car.

"No, he has her, we have to go find them."

"We can't Rocky, I have to get you to a doctor."

"There are no doctors, what are you talking about, we have to, please."

He passed out cold.

She put him in the car, grabbed the wheelchair, and backed out of the shack as the sun began rising.

"I'll help you Rocky, my sweet boy. No more of this. No more."

Chapter 2

Witch doctor?



She made a sharp turn away from the house and down a river bed. The old car shook, rolling Rocky around in the back seat.

Blood spattered all over the car as his wounds were open and still bleeding.

"I know a doctor Rocky and she will take care of all of this." She looked behind the seat at her grandson covered in blood.

He was groaning in pain, starting to wake up.

The old woman got out of the car and walked to the shack built up against the rocks, hiding the framed hut.

"I know you're in there and I need you to help my grandson."

"No, go away."

The old woman was not going to take no for an answer. "You are shit. You can't do anything anyway."

She could hear the scuffing sounds of wood being dragged across the dirt.

"You don't scare me witch, I'm too old to be scared."

"You will be scared soon." A voice threatened and then coughed.

"The woman came out, black skin, hair rolled into stiff pieces, sticking out atop her head. She was taller than the door she exited thru and she carried a crooked limb from a tree.

"Old woman you are not welcome, you know nothing of me."

"I know you saved my daughter."

The woman's black face lit up, as if she remembered the day it happened.

"Come to the car and save him," she paused, "please."

The woman laughed at her. "You save him, you have power too."

"I don't use it anymore."

"Well, maybe you should," she looked down drawing a diagram in the dirt with her stick.

Rocky had awoken and pushed open the back door not knowing where he was at or who this dark woman was.

"Abuela, what are we doing, we have to find Laticia, we have to go." After his last word came out, he spilled out of the car like a fish from it's tank.

"He's worth saving?"

The old woman didn't like what she had said about her grandson. Suddenly, out of a clear sky, came a small rock, straight down onto the top of the witch's head.

Indignant, she told the interloper to use her own powers.

She picked up Rocky and brought him into the hut. "Now do what you need to do, I don't care. Fix him so he can be the man he was meant to be."

"I have a policy of one fix per family and you chose your daughter."

"And you gave the evil to my grandson."

"I told you what the price was and you didn't listen."

"I've changed my mind. I want him well. I want him to be able to work, have a family." She began to sob.

"With the power of evil inside the boy, I call upon the spirits of sickness to remove the evil, and allow the boy his life back. But his mother must die if this is to happen."

"What?" The old woman couldn't believe what she heard. "You cannot kill my daughter."

"That is the only way old woman or go away now."

She looked at Rocky and remembered the first visit to this woman more than 30 years ago. Her daughter, legs lifeless, was on her way out. And she had made a deal her daughter's life for her first grandson.

Only Abuela knew the truth.

"Why can't you just take the evil back to my daughter why does she have to die."

"She doesn't, you decide."

Moments of silence passed as the Sun was atop the two casting down rays of hot sunshine.

"Save him," the old woman finally relented.

"Done."

The grandmother cried as she sat over the prostrated body of her daughter's first born. She had no other choice she kept telling herself.

Yes, feeling the guilt for all those years, being the only one who knew how her daughter had healed and why her son had not. Her husband left shortly after: he felt the evil.

Rocky awoke, his grandmother, sitting next to him, wet with tears, not moving. He tugged at her sleeve.

Her eyes were glassy and did not respond.

Rocky shouted to her but she said nothing. In a panic, he stood up and grabbed her and carried her to the car.

He looked back at two candles burning in the tower of rocks, somehow knowing he must leave if anyone was going to live. His grandmother had known evil and he knew that it was only a matter of time.

Not realizing he was suddenly healthy, he began to drive away in the car, back to his house. He ran inside, knowing what he would find.

His mother, was dead, lying on the couch, eyes open.

He quickly picked her up and ran to the car with her. His grandmother was still in a trance.

Moments later the car spun up to the office where he had last left off.

Chapter 3
Making it right again

With his mother dead in the passenger seat and his grandmother in a trance, unable to move, he looked at them, raised his hand making the sign of the cross Jesus had died on for their sins, and believed.

He knew the sins that had taken place. Not that people talked about it, they just understood it, those who lived in the Valley of the Blood Rock.

No longer encumbered by his weakened limbs, and the gunshot healed on his face, he pushed his way into the office.

Lying on the floor was Laticia, her clothes torn, and her face burned by cigarettes. He leaned down to her listened to her breath, he could feel the relief. He gently pulled her up into his arms and ran for the car.

When he got there, the boss, sporting reflective sunglasses and a hand rolled cigarette, was standing next to the car looking inside. Two other men stood next to him.

"The old bitches are dead, I guess," he was telling the other men.

Rocky walked up to them with Laticia in his arms.

"Get away from the car before I kill you."

The three laughed. But then they realized he was no longer in his wheelchair and he had no wounds on his face or hands as he did the night before when the shotgun pellets pelted him.

There was a sudden shift of fear.




The three men began walking away, calling out prayers, afraid, and asking for forgiveness.

Rocky couldn't see the apparition, an angel, glowing, and humming, as she carried a small bird in her hands.

The bird, began to talk, "evil dies here today."

The men now ran.

Rocky was perplexed as he could see none of it, only the reactions of the men. He thought they had gone out of their minds and maybe they had.

The angel released the bird who flew into the car. Now Rocky could see that there was movement. His mother sat up, white dove, on her arm.

She looked at it, smiled and it flew off into the horizon.

Laticia, from a family of "believers" who fought the "evil ones" awoke to see she was in the arms of Rocky.

He smiled at her, holding her close to his face. She smiled, in awe of what she was witnessing, an angel stood behind Rocky, her delicate arm resting on his shoulder.

Epilogue: Several weeks later, the three women sat around the table husking corn and making tortillas for the party which will take place after the wedding. Rocky had asked Laticia to marry him a hundred times, but it was not until she knew that the evil was gone and the curse had been lifted, that she could be with him.

But she had known the day would come.

The witch in the desert had learned that the power over others, the power to torture and torment in the name of healing, would forever be her own curse. Each time she came out of her hut, the sun would burn her skin, and she could no longer live in the light.

She no longer had light.

The angel stayed on with Rocky and Laticia as their hearts were always in the light.

Laticia laughed as she realized Rocky could not see the Angel, but that he had brought her into his life, by his faith in the good of the world.

He never knew what his grandmother did, the decision she made. He didn't need to know. However, his mother would look at his grandmother with complete grace and understanding. Forgiveness had taken the place of the curse.

The evil had gone....

Binky's Laboratory, finishing up for science

Oh, my boy, you do test me. Though I am the one running the tests really. Have you studied your history, writer guy?

History? I don't fucking care about history, bastard, mutant, fuck...

Now, now, you don't have to lose all your manners along with your life. I'm just curious if you ever wondered what it was that caused the animals to disappear. And if you're a typical inbred seed, there was a time when this world had these wonderful creatures running on four legs, barking, baying, crying, speaking their own language.

I know, I just don't care.

Well, it was because you didn't care, or the human kind, that didn't care that you are in the position, which I might add is not so becoming, you are currently in. Do you know what an exterminator is?

No, it's light fixture, it's a, it's a...

Don't struggle I'll just tell you, it was someone who had to go around and kill different species of rodents whose populations would run out of control thus causing disease amongst the humans, the top of the food chain on our planet.

I don't really care, don't you get it? Don't you understand I am dying...

Oh not yet. I would not waste that much money and time on you to kill you in only a few hours. No, foolish one, you will endure days, months, and if you have some sort of strong constitution, I could have you for a year. I'm sorry I'm laughing, but by that time you won't know what is happening anyway.

Cruel fucking monster.

No, I'm on a budget lad. Now back to the story of the rodents who took over the world, neighborhoods and so forth, killing people with their diseases, and eating the limbs of the lepers, seemingly a bad deal.

But as our human population grew so did our minds. First we killed them with poisons, the hairy buggers writhing in the streets. We found them to be in certain regions a good side dish, they were food. But as humankind exploded with intelligence or so we think, we used them, these interlopers, these rodents.

We poured chemicals into their eyes to make sure our human babies would survive such an encounter. The small animals shrieked in pain, dying everyday for a baby product or a medication.

Oh, yes, as will be used on you, medications were forced upon these animals as we could not study such things directly on human beings. They grew human ears on a mouse, which is a tiny rodent, with a triangular face, and stiff hairs growing around the sides of the nares. It was amazing. The ear would be extracted and the mouse would die in a heap, going to the garbage that night.

Are you going to put me in the garbage too?

I'm afraid so, I wouldn't want your gruesome bits and pieces lying about the area, it might give people the wrong idea that I'm say, a little misanthropic.
Anyway,so, not only were the rodents poisoned with every element dug out of the ground and captured from the atmosphere, they began including more animals until, yes, this is interesting, until they began using what were known as "pets."

Two pets were commonly found in human households and they were canines and felines. As the animal life began to shrink people worried and when species disappeared entirely, they knew it would never be the same.

Here's some water if you feel like you can drink. I need you to either drink that or I will cut a port in your chest and pour it in myself. Don't look at me like that, I'm sorry I'm laughing again, but your eyes have reached a point where the expression seems to be locked in.

Water? Huh?

You know what fuck you, pour it in if you want, my life is over anyway. I'm what, nothing?

No, no, in fact you are aiding the world in that you are being tested for all sorts of things, including mega viruses, and my new invention, if it works, will be able to soup up your autoimmune system from a remote control you can carry with you. You and I may be famous some day. That's why we are filming and recording every moment of this incredible experiment.

I'm a famous tortured man.

Do you feel tortured? No, I'm explaining to you, as not all scientists would do in this day and age, that you are important. Yes, you come from a farm, where your parents are creating new test subjects everyday. We've even learned over the years to decrease human gestation periods which means mommy can conceive and give birth several times a year, making it less dangerous than having litters of six or more, crowding the, though enhanced and reinforced, uterine units.

Feel better about you dumb ass? I'm sorry, I can't help it, talking to such a creature, though human, with little or no real intelligence makes me a bit nasty.

How far down the ladder am I master? What, come on shorty, answer? You have bored me now for hours with your great knowledge of animals and humans, tell me, am I that different from you? Do you feel pain or is it that you simply like to give pain? That's what it is, you're a human who has extreme issues, you think you're better because you reason that you can't be worse as you are involved in these great experiments to save mankind from, what you? Mankind needs to be saved from you? Come on chatterbox, say something?

I'm better than you. You are bred to be inferior, so therefore you are.

Now I'm laughing, though it hurts, that you are doing this for such a shallow reason that I could not feel anything but sorry for you. I feel sorry for you. Do what you have to do but don't say anything more to me, I don't want to hear it. You sad creature, pathetic, I'll be me and die. You do what you want with the information you get. But I am by far your superior because without me you would be nothing. Isn't that right or are you crying? No, you can't cry, you can only become indifferent, cold, and distant. Where are you manners.

Shut up farm creature!

Are you calling me an animal.

Never! Animals are and will always be superior in every way. We used them up. We supported all humans with information from heart attacks in canines to autoimmune in rodents. It kept leaders alive longer to enjoy the fruits of their heritage as owners of the world. And when they were gone, and when genetics could no longer be employed, they turned to humans, subhumans.

Like me.

Yes, I'm afraid you are the subhuman who is grown for the job of being experimented on by scientists, inventors, people in need of limbs and cures, it's amazing really.

You will kill us all you know. All humans, subhumans like me, gone from the planet.

No, you imbecile that is not the case or it would, or it...

What?

I've never had one like you, who talked with intelligence I could understand.

Do you think the animals were intelligent?

Yes, I do. Many cognitive studies were run that proved that memory and visual skills were the same.

So, they felt the pain? They felt what I am feeling right now.

I suppose.

Are you going to open my chest or what?

I don't know yet. I don't know.

You know?

What, what writer do I know?

You know what you are doing is wrong now, personally, animals or people raised to be tested upon. You also know that you are killing us all by doing this.

Wrong, I don't know what is wrong or right, as the childish ponder. I do know that I want you to leave.

The end

Just a story in homage to the test animals everywhere. Whether it be shampoo in their eyes, or being tortured by drugs with unknown side effects, these animals never had a chance and most importantly people who don't understand the kindred nature between man and animal are poorly equipped for life.
Animals have been there, and they are disappearing. We eat certain animals when we should maintain their populations and use the land, polluted with chemicals to grow other types of foods. Insects should be added to the diet. But animals never should be mistreated prior to our eating them. It's sacred, that was a life. If all your life your squashed into a cage, shot with antibiotics and growth hormones, then the end of your life comes shortly at four pounds.
On some one's table your tortured, murdered body is set to eat. That is disgusting and that is mankind. Food and animals are sacred and we should be thankful.

Mr. Binky's laboratory...in beetween the genes

I never held it against Larson for teaching me the lesson of the trees. The rings held information about the growth of the tree we both sat in day after day, or for most of our childhood, if that's what you want to call it.

We were both merely human then. I hope my cigarette doesn't bother you asshole, you invited me here anyway.

No, carry on.

I just saw you flinch, you don't like the cigarette smoke.

Listen, I don't care, I'm a writer, I'm here because I have to eat. You understand strange little man. And obviously you overlooked that I myself smoke, look here's my pack of cigarettes, right here in my top pocket.

Yes, I borrowed this from you jack ass writer.

Huh?

Witless, brainless, and you don't even listen to the surgeon general. Boo hoo you're going to die an ugly death, I'm so sorry.

Like the smoke in your face or directly in your lungs? And how old are you?

Get away from me freak, and sit back down, and lets get this over with. So, you fucking stole a cigarette from me when I wasn't looking, aren't you quite the demon. Now, where were you, in a tree with some rings.

Tap, tap, tap, the pencil hit the notebook.

Could you stop that sound. HSSSssss, pheeewwwww, that's nice.

How about I leave and you smoke your, my cigarette, and we talk another time, when you're not so, so, what, you're weird.

Yes, that's right, your the observer and I'm the animal in the cage. Tell me all about me.

Listen, I could care less, you're an electric bill for the month, and your insipid "I'm the phantom of the opera" show isn't all that interesting. I'm putting my notebook, my noisy pen, and my cigarettes, back in the case, and I'm leaving.

Okay, so long, nice to meet you, writer, with intelligent, witty repertoire for me to play with.

Yeah, little guy, I'm here for you to play with.

What didn't you know?

Sure, sure, I knew, now you just get your cute tuxedo out of here, go back and watch some cartoons or whatever you do. And look little man, here, here are few cigarettes I am spilling out on your table for you to smoke. Though it might stunt your growth.

What will I light it with?

Here, here's a lighter, the color purple, do you like it? I'll put it right here. Wait a minute how did you light that?

Light what?

The cigarette you're smoking, you have a lighter or matches somewhere, don't blow it at me thank you.

I'm just happy, it's a happy day when I have company. It makes me want to blow smoke all around me, and then suddenly in your face...wooooosh.

Okay, that's it, I'm gone. Now where's the door?

How did you get in here nincompoop? Go that way. Your intelligence is what a six and that's when you were six before the traumatic brain injury.

What the fuck? How did you know about that?

Why I know everything about you, Kenny, the son of a carpenter, and his mother addicted to blood Mary's, after she squirts out another brother for you to loathe and hate madly.

I'm going to put my fist in your face short and freaky if you say another word. I don't know where you get your information, but...

I sit outside your house and listen. For twenty four years, I've listened and waited.

And you're a crazy, what are you anyway, a doll, with a microphone. I'm going to listen to you, what is inside you. Just stay still I'm putting my ear up to your...

I wouldn't do that...

Ouch, shit, that fucking hurt. It burned me.

That's so sad, just like the rest of your life, or should I say lifeless existence.

Holy shit, my skin came off my, it's in my hand, look, look, you fucking little devil what did you do to me.

Nothing, really.

What does that mean?

I suppose for your subsistence brain to understand, I would correlate it with your flesh touching a hot, temperature, beyond that of merely burning flesh, which is noticeably aromatic: it stinks, a little like death, and bit like Burger King, wouldn't you say.

I've got my fucking ear in my hand, and my face is slipping off.

Thump.

He passed out. Poor fellow, what shall we do next?

How about a bucket of chicken, oh no, a barrel of fun. Splash!

Oh, my god, what are you doing.

There's the steam now, what a slow reaction, kind of like your intelligence, writer, ass licking, moron, you're freaking burning up with fever, I must help you, or at least mock you to death.

Oh, god, it hurts.

Yes, you most certainly look like it hurts. But don't worry Mommy's back home procreating with Daddy who can't get a job except to inseminate your mother regularly, and take a few dollars from the government funded center for a better human being. You flunk.

Though the blue tinge is beginning to colorize your every cell so that I may get to work, I thought I would just tell you a story before you are incapable of understanding, which will be in just a few minutes.

You're a real doozy, writer fellow. Moaning in pain, afraid. Yes, you are, you are shaking.

What did you expect when you were but a mere lad running around with your brothers, in your yard of grass and trees, that there was something missing?

Animals, aren't just in books fuckwad. Here I'll poke you in the spine with this needle, let me get this right as I wouldn't want to hurt you...

AHHHHHHHHH!

That must have hurt. Lay still, that pain will go away before the other one starts.

What are you doing to me?

Using you to test out some of my many inventions. And since our interview was short and quite obvious, I say, we get rid of that out of shape body, from about Right here at the end of your ribs. I don't need the whole carcass to run this experiment. It's easier to have you in pieces. As I'm small and can't drag, big buff guys like you around.

Why are you looking at me like that. And what, are you crying? Excellent, I happen to have an ointment for dripping eyes. Here, a couple of drops here and there.

Feel better.

Ya.

Was that a "yes?"

Yes.

Good. Now in about five minutes that ointment will have eaten all the nerve endings out of your eyes, and voila' no more pain.

Quit screaming it isn't as bad as it sounds. This is exactly why I don't work with infants.

I cant see, whimper.

Of course not, I just killed your eyes, I told you I was doing it, were you not listening? I would listen from now on and the fear will go away.

Now, we or I, being specific, will be making this even more easy on you as i will need you here for several days, and no more of that screaming, it is loud and unnecessary.

You fucking thing from hell.

No, stupid ass farm boy, you're just not what the world was looking for, so you went on the list. You're on the list, and I got you. I paid for you with the proceeds from another invention. Why i wonder if you could guess what that is?

I'm putting these sheets over you, I know you can't see and since my test dummy is a fraidy cat, now isn't that an archaic phrase, I have to keep your fear down to get this down correctly.

Now another shot, but again, don't worry it will kill all the pain this time.

No, please, if I said or did anything I should not have said, oh god, don't hurt me.

You fool, that is exactly why you are here. You have little redeeming qualities. Well, first you are farm raised, and your destiny has been quite set for a long time. Your mother had quintuplets and we assessed none would be adequate for service to intelligent life, and now your mummy and papa fuck for a living.

Each one of you squirts go for 25 years and then are sold to the highest bidder.

Happy birthday to you, did you have a nice party last night.

Yes, it was the best birthday I have had. I'm crying I can feel it.

No, it's just a solution I shot into your tear ducts that will eventually crystallize the normal tears so they don't get in the way.

You had a nice big cake for everyone, but then they brought you the birthday boy a special piece of cake.

Yes, it was strange, red colored. My aunt sent it. She sends money and cakes..

Ever met your aunt?

Here let's see if you remember her? "Oh, dear," um hum, "you have a joyous life as long as you can. You are the best of all the children. You will make something of yourself and live a long life. I am so proud of you."

What where is she?

Quit rolling around or I'll tie you up.

Aunt Rose, help me, there's a creature

And, where's the rest? Getting tired? I'm your aunt, is that what you figured out. I've been watching you all your life, waiting for you to come to me. So, glad you're here.

I'll be back, I must go check on a vile which I will be putting inside of you. And then, smart mouth, you will become a lot like me...

fuck off.

Oh, I can do better things than that, you micro brain.

Come here, my expensive little pet, while we wait for our guest to metamorphasize a bit before we begin.