tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73216785677174693272024-03-13T10:57:26.932-07:00THE PURPLE APPLE
The Purple Apple takes place in Cabot, Prince Edward Island, not far from the infamous home of Lucy Maud Montgomery who wrote “Anne of Green Gables.” The main character, Travis Owen burdened with the loss of his wife and kid and constantly tortured by ravenous demons, uncovers a deadly secret that sheds light on the Botox industry and its connection to the pharmaceutical giants in Japan.
Stephaney Margettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17021404642186799612noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7321678567717469327.post-58284987650347336752019-06-25T09:52:00.001-07:002019-06-25T10:12:02.537-07:00THE PURPLE APPLE, murder systery story, thriller mystery, story, fictious novel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE PURPLE APPLE</span></b></u></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">CHAPTER 1</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">On a bitterly cold
morning, Travis lay half awake, listening to the crying wind as it streamed
through the small cracks in the circular bay window above his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Countless attempts to seal the tiny crevices
where the stained glass joined the wooden panes with fresh layers of white
silicone only seemed to worsen the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The decayed old particles cracked and flaked,
leaving minuscule </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">passageways for the
outside world to gain entrance in the two-story sanctuary.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The frozen incubus had a
devilish mind of its own and toyed with the house as if</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">it was nothing but a Rubik’s
Cube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It twisted about the Victorian
hovel with deft</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nimble paws, pressing
its repulsive body down the chimney flute, through the holes</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the attic dug by the
field mice that sought refuge, and through the clefts in the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">basement that had slowly
succumbed to by the elements of nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This old </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">house had survived the five
decades of relentless barrages of snow and rain and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">would probably survive a
hundred years more with a little time and money spent </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">on maintenance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The attic, directly
above the bedroom, was dark but not completely barren of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The tangerine light of
the full moon sifted through the rotting ventilation eaves in </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the end walls revealing
cobweb-festooned rafters under a 45-degree peaked roof.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Moist silk aqueducts
linked together throughout the entire attic allowing swift </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">passage for the
carnivorous arachnids that patrolled the area like German </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Gestapo
guards outside Block 11 in Auschwitz.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The direct center of the
room offered just enough headroom for someone to </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stand erect, though
closer to the walls, it was necessary to crawl on both hands</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and knees over the wood
and through the bundles of insulation, neatly </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tucked inside the floor
support beams like a newborn in the intensive care </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nursery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years ago, he had crawled into the attic and
laid the insulation by himself,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">paying close attention
to detail and making sure that each bundle </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was spaced correctly between
the horizontal beams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doing this kept
the house</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">warmer in the winter and
much cooler in the summer months reducing the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">electric bill by at
least twenty percent.</span></b><br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Though the attic was a tomb, a
cold desolate plot that gave temporary </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">refuge to the insidious
vermin and other blood drinking creatures of the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">night, it really didn’t
bother him much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seldom was the room
disturbed by</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the presence of a human,
though it housed the most valued possession that</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">he
owned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only the ravenous spiders dared
roam these forlorn corridors of</span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">empty boxes and
antiquated relics that were neatly packed away, out of sight</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and of course, out of
mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An orange hue funneled its warm
rays through the series of rotted ventilation eaves leaving the far wall,
adjoining the attic door in a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">soft illumination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting directly in its inviting wake, wedged
tightly</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">between two empty U-Haul
boxes stood a large white porcelain urn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Inside the white hourglass rested the cremated remains of two people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crude shrine drank deep the few hours of
light that trickled through the open eaves, holding onto every drop of warmth
that it could.</span></b><br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">The sticky orb traps meticulously
spun by hundreds of hungry arachnids</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">protected the urn from
curious insects that unknowingly trespassed their</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These fanged vampires were the sentinels of
the attic, the guardians</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of ashen humans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They stood vigil over something that was no
longer there,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">honoring ways that had
long ago ceased to exist except as a distant memory.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Deep inside the attic,
these vermin slept sound, for they lived in a dream world </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">where heroes walked tall
during the wee sleeping hours of the night, and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">chivalry and justice
were synonymous with honor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If one of
these vampires </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">could have donned the
brass helmet of Don Quixote or drank deep from the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ancient cup of Erasmus
or scaled the walls of Sodom and Gomorrah and crushed</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the dregs of society, they
would have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With one flail of the
almighty fang, the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">spider would have
slashed through the iron gates of hell and forced his steel </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">incisors through the
engorged throat of his enemy drinking his victim completely dry.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis would have given
his life to have saved his wife and son from having to go</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">yet another day hungry,
without food and without any love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
to take a bullet </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">from some ritual drive
by shooting to save the spinal cord of some </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">innocent teenager from
living the life of a paraplegic in a cold wheel chair.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">That and more he would
have given without hesitation to end the pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the frozen alcoves deep inside an undisturbed turquoise reservoir of
a child’s imagination, a hero lived the life of a God, though in the real world
they withered away locked in chains inside some dusty old pirate’s chest.</span></b><br />
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<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Travis jostled about in his king-sized
sleigh bed, trying to find the perfect fetal </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">position, strategically
placing the pillow between his legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
would be another </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">night of insomnia,
something that was only too familiar and routine in his 44 years of being
alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew that he had a new patient
scheduled for 10:00 this morning. Perhaps he would be late, and Travis could
catch up on some sleep in the office until he arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who was he kidding?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These sick bastards were never late, if
anything they were always early and made damn sure that they got every moment
that they paid for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More times than not,
the patients had to pay his hourly rate out of their own pockets for fear of
alerting the insurance carrier that they were sick in the head and the
possibility of being ostracized by their employers or even their own
co-workers.</span></b><br />
<br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis
usually reduced his rate from $150 per hour to $80 dollars <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">depending on whether
they filed a claim with their insurance carrier or whether </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">they chose to pay
cash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the insurance claims
adjuster would dispute</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the claim, since the
patient had no prior authorization to visit a </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">psychologist that wasn’t part of the
government health plan or didn’t fit into the criteria of what his supplemental
health policy would accept. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In either
case, it was a bunch of <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bullshit for Travis to either
try and recover his fees, go through the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hassle of contacting the
patient and requesting he or she stop by his office and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">drop off a check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking about it, it was rather ludicrous to
think that a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">crazy person might
remember to pay the bill that his own private insurance company, claiming to be
financially sound and sane, momentarily considered an asinine profession and
therefore were refusing to pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, who is
actually crazy, the patient or the insurance company?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis would have to say it was a little of
both; the naive patient for thinking that his insurance company was going to be
there when he needed them, and the insurance company for believing their own
lies.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The fresh morning air
viciously stung his eyes and attacked his ear canals,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">enhancing his audibility
by ten decibels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis could hear the
faint muffled scratching upstairs, undoubtedly a few field mice attempting to
conserve body heat among hairy strangers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps they were busy fornicating, playing hide the tail or lubricating
the whiskers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever they were doing,
he envied them and their lackadaisical behavior.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But, what did these
rodents know of life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did they have
mundane jobs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">they worry about
providing for or protecting their offspring, or for that matter, did</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">they even know the
importance of a family?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The proliferation
of this</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">species would indicate
that the family took a back seat to the raging</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">libido of Dear Old
Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If self-gratification were a paying
job, these ground</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">dwelling cheese varmints
would all be politicians.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Perhaps, just perhaps,
these vermin had rules that they abided by, the most</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">important of which was
the sanctity of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s possible that
Ricky the Rodent </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">got up every morning,
stroked back his horned whiskers as to look more</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">conservative, picked up
his attaché case, and headed off to his private hell hole</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inside the pantry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, snuggled tightly between a bottle of
Windex and a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">carton of light bulbs,
he would tend to the affairs at hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>During his hectic day</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">filled with scheduled
meetings upon meetings to discuss further meetings down the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">road, and his fourteen
trips to the water fountain to wet his whistle and check out </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the new secretary in the
plaid miniskirt, he would conceive of new ways to move up</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the corporate ladder to impress
the Senior Vice President of Operations and fantasize about sleeping with the
new intern in the miniskirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All in all,
it was a very </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">productive and busy day!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">What about the rat’s
wife?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was her role in society?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did she</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stand watch over the
children and dream about devouring the little bastards, or</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">did her fury thighs
quiver at the thought of seeing her cheating husband </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">snared in a mousetrap,
head split wide open?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would happen
to the family?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Would they be evicted
from the broom closet and tossed into the cold basement,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or would some laboratory
reject come knocking on the door with cheese in one</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">paw, and thoughts of
torture and acts of perversion in the other?</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although he was a psychologist,
and a damn good one at that, Travis often wondered where his mind was leading
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One moment he would be sitting in
his office listening somewhat attentively to his patient blubbering about
something that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">happened in his or her
life that forever changed them, and the next moment he was</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wondering if divorce and
empathy were common in the rat world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">monogamy an overrated
characteristic that only priests and little boys pretended </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to practice behind the
alter, or did society wean itself from moral issues and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">traditions over
time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new suitor that came knocking
on the door with a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wedge of cheese in one
hand and a flask of Jesus Juice in the other, was he the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">savior or just a wolf in
sheep’s clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These and other
mysteries </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">preoccupied much of
Travis’ leisure time and in a perverse sense, made life more</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">enjoyable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Keeping himself busy
late at night pondering over the animal</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">kingdom was his way of
coping with reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more than that,
it was the escape</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">route for his
subconscious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By derailing his train of
thought, he could unload</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the infectious cargo
that traveled the midnight tracks of his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If he could</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">find sense in a world
that existed beyond his own, then by observing nature he</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">might be able to
understand why humans reacted so irrationally; why skin color</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or border difference
caused mass hatred between seemingly ordinary groups. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ant colony had more
inner meaning and genuine order than that of homo</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sapiens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homicide was nothing but a three-syllable
word that wasn’t tolerated </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in this purified realm
beneath the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The perverse need
for adolescents </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to measure antennas by comparing
lengths and girths was something only</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">prevalent in bipedal
males.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The whole of any
civilization was far more important than the needs of the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Marxism had roots, if some balding
historian from the University of Toronto</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">could have climbed
inside his head during the early developmental stages of his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">life, Marxism and the
whole theory behind it might have originated with a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pubescent lad, a
magnifying glass, and an ant colony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though possessed at</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">first with the feverish
quest of utter annihilation by burning their tender skulls</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">as they emerged from
their mounds, Marx later grew to understand and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to appreciate these
insects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Awed by their ability to
overcome, their ability to work</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">together, and their
flagrant disregard for their own well-being, he came to respect</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and admire these red
colonies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They gave their life without
remorse, without</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a second thought to
insure the survival of their species.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ants were the perfect</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">soldiers in a perfect
utopia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If life were nothing but a chess
game, these workers</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">were expendable pawns
whose sole function was to protect the queen.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The theory behind communism
probably grew and blossomed as the young</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">German lad passed the
cool summer days playing in the fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The chimney red</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">clay roads wound throughout
the countryside up and over the green</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hills and through the
spacious meadows filled with potato farms and struggling</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sheep ranchers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wild blueberry patches and lavender flowers
graced the green</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pastures with spring
time vitality and beauty that only a God could create and only</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a woman could appreciate
and understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each river beckoned with
hungry</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">trout just begging for a
fresh worm and a metal hook, almost daring Huck Finn</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">enthusiasts to skip
school and cast their bamboo lines into the mystical glacial</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lakes and roaring tributaries
that surrounded the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the
perfect</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">moment in life without
interference from the outside world, without the threat</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of a nuclear war hanging
overhead like some ominous black cloud, a life pure of racial hatred and utter
contempt for limp politicians and ambivalent governments.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although bitten numerous
times and hospitalized on at least four different</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">occasions, Karl Marx
continued to delve more and more into this unknown world.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Often branded an oddity
by all his fellow peers and ridiculed by his own family,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he drifted off into his
new world of insects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here he found
solace from the cruel</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">world, protected in the
knowledge that he had millions of new red friends that were</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">willing to serve and if
needed, willing to die to protect Karl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was the perfect</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">communistic society thus
convincing him that all civilizations, and all structured </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">government hierarchy
were destined to follow nature’s course and embrace the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">words and ideology of
Marxism.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">If Prozac had only been around
one hundred years ago and the field of</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">psychiatry, a more
acceptable form of treatment, the geographic boundaries of the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">countries, world figures,
famous speeches, wars, and even evil tyrants would not</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">have come to
fruition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rest assured, had Travis been
alive back then, Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Idi Amin would have been doped up
on Prozac, tortured, and then dragged outside one night in their underwear and
shot in the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, he never said
that he was the greatest psychologist in the world or claimed to have all the
answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just believed that a small
percent of the population could never be cured by therapy or by these new
wonder drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Many would undoubtedly
protest his barbaric treatment of the insane, but really were Hitler, Stalin, Amin,
or Donald Trump insane or just evil mother fuckers? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you measure the level of insanity of
one individual or a mob that follows these tyrants?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the medication in the world and coddling
probably wouldn’t have deterred any of these rulers from their destiny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some men are just born evil or stupid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others learn it along the way.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Some of his colleagues
would also argue that ethics governed people and the universe, and if we all
adhered to moral principal and abided by the laws sent down from Heaven, humanity
would survive for the millennium to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis didn’t slightly disagree with their opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He thought it a crock of shit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The agonizing truth was out there to be found,
but was hard to swallow for a society that based </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">itself upon
high moral standards and brotherly love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The easy choice for a<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">dysfunctional society
bordering upon the verge of extinction would be to totally</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">block out the past and
to forget the torturous machinery and weaponry that man</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">created to eliminate his
fellow neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis never actually
condemned </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the military, but, he
seriously wondered if the inhabitants of the North American</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Continent fathomed the
motivation behind the development of nuclear</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">weapons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If bombs weren’t developed and dropped for
ethical decisions, then why?</span></b><br />
<div style="mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: 0in .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If this scenario were
true, then society was not based on ethical decisions, but</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">rather upon greed and
power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without some sense of
organization and group</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">direction, humans were
inevitably doomed to failure; as evident of the fall of </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">communism in
Russia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was indeed a lugubrious
situation.<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In a strange way, both
animal kingdoms were similar in that both species</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lacked the stamina to exhaust
all options before implementing an</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most so-called ethical decisions were based
upon fear and anger, and more</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">selfless actions were
based on true love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it were true that
a coward dies a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thousand deaths and a
hero but one, then humans would never die out. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Undoubtedly the number
one priority of the ant was the colony; the number one </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">priority of any single
person was the individual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, it was
safe to conclude</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that humans were not
ethical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although this was a very
cynical take on humanity, Travis believed that society in whole was heading in
a bad direction and if we didn’t do something soon, we could never reverse our
course.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He lifted his right arm
out of the shelter of his warm igloo to brush the rumpled</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hair from his brow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warm palm felt soothing against the cold
flesh as he tried</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to awaken the muscles in his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Razor stubble,” he mumbled out loud.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He was suddenly roused
back to reality by thunderous buzzing at the front </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, who in the hell could that be?” No one
in their right mind would be </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ringing his doorbell
this early Wednesday morning.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Buzzz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok, ok, I heard the
damn bell,” he hollered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let me get
some clothes on before</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">my boner freezes and
breaks off like an icicle.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, his
train of thought was </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">interrupted by the
shrill of the doorbell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as if the
buzzer were being tortured</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">by some sadistic
electrician, and its sonorous cries of pain seemed to reverberate</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">throughout the entire
household.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis grabbed dirty
jeans off the floor and pulled them up his half-frozen legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although it was mid-April,
it still felt like winter here on Prince Edward Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The jeans were rigid,
almost stiff as he pulled them up over his waist and yanked </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the zipper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached down and picked up a white LL Bean
sweater and proceeded to simultaneously insert his head and arms into the appropriate
openings just as the front door buzzer went off again.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Reaching over the night
stand by the far corner of the bed, he flipped the switch to</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">turn on the lamp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either the power had been shut off for two
hours or it was in</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fact 6:30 in the
morning; the latter being the more probable of the two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Christ!”</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”</span></h2>
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Yeah, all right, all right will
ya!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew it sounded crazy to yell at
an </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inanimate object and
expect a response, but he did it anyway.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Maybe that’s the first
sign of madness, knowing that you weren’t making any</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sense even to yourself,
let alone a licensed psychologist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
guessed it would have been more asinine to expect a verbal response back from
the doorbell, but sometimes we just do things that don’t make sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only are we unethical, but</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">it now seems that we are
not a very lucid society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boy, this day
was going to be a real winner if Travis continued this line of thinking.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The laundry pile on the
floor was starting to look more like a vagrant’s shopping cart filled with soda
cans, plastic bottles, pillow cases and bed sheets. There was a towel that
looked like it had been washed a few weeks ago clumped together on the floor
with some shirts and another pair of jeans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps tomorrow he just might tackle that monster load before it got any
bigger; before some Austrian rock climber came to his door, drooling over the
possibility of climbing the growing mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If these garments had any rights, they would sue for negligence and
emotional distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any day now, Social
Services, commonly referred to as CSS, would come calling to remove his dirty
attire and place his garments into some sort of a Foster </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Laundromat.</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b></b></span><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ripped
apart from their biological purchaser, these pathetic</span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">garments would be just
another statistic of the welfare system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They, like </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">countless victims, would
be another non-descriptive folder tucked away in some </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">file cabinet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if the lawyers got a hold of this, all
hell would break loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lawsuits, counter
lawsuits, back stabbing, defamation of character, vulgarity, and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a whole slew of legal
repercussions was soon to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Absolutely nothing that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the legal community
could scrape from the bottom of the toilet bowl surprised him</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">much these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a society gone haywire, these fast-talking
parasites thrived</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the devil had a paying job, he would be a
defense attorney defending</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Justin
Trudeau on morality issues.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He finished in the
bathroom and descended the oak staircase towards the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">front door. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bare steps creaked under his weight and
each cold Neanderthal </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">foot landed squarely upon
the polished oak, bringing to life the fatigued home.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Upon reaching the foyer,
he hesitated just a moment before reaching for the door </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">knob and pulled the
sleeve of the sweater over his right hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a youngster he</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was often compelled to
challenge the flagpole at New Bloomfield Junior High</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">School in the dead of winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How an ordinary ice pole had some mesmerizing</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inner power baffled the
doctors at Summerside Hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a
show of courage, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the kids would pit
science against future manhood; tongue against frozen object.</span></b><br />
<br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis
usually lost, partially due to lack of intelligence, but mostly due to his </span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">excessively large
tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the kids joked that he
could lick the back of his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">head with his tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If this were only true, he would have made
many a woman</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">happy in bed.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The metallic monster
boasted the remains of torn tissue, slabs</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of lip parts, buckets
and buckets of innocent blood, and tiny samples of spongy</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ligaments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each student left enough DNA samples to
enable any clever crime</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">scene investigator to solve
all the crimes on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These were
the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">trinkets of war time,
worn proudly by the victor, daring anyone to strip him of his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">title.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those painstaking images haunted his
adolescence and somehow </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">manifested itself into
his manhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come on ya big ape,”
yelled the intruder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m freezing my
fucking ass off.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ve got frostbite on my
nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now open the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can hear you behind the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">door!” His voice was
relentless as was his determination.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What the hell do you
want, Robert?” he snapped back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s
not even 7:00</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the morning if you hadn’t
noticed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About time you bought a real
watch that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tells time!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the thirteen years that Travis had lived in
Cabot, Prince Edward Island, </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lieutenant Sterling had woken him up at least on four
hundred and fifty<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">occasions.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The door’s frozen
solid, asshole,” Travis replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now go
home and sleep it off.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Robert’s responded with, “Hey
Travis it’s almost at 7:00 am</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">so, open the door, get
dressed and let’s go get some coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Starbucks doesn’t stay </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">open all day, ya know!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah they do, you idiot,”
he shouted back!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever since Starbucks
opened their first shop on Main Street last year, Robert had to be there bright
and early, so he could get a seat next to the roaring fireplace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, it was nice and warm and yeah, the
coffee was ok, but it wasn’t worth the four dollars per cup, that was for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The only reason Robert
wanted to go to the coffee shop every morning and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">get the table next to
the fireplace was because of the local college girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not uncommon to see them standing in
line, dressed in their flannel pajamas gabbing away with the barista behind the
counter. Robert was an ass man, and never gave up the opportunity to drink in
the beauty of a fine backside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If girl watching
were a paying job, Lieutenant Sterling would be richer than Bill Gates.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis reconciled himself
to the fact that he would have to let the frozen bastard in</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and proceeded to flip on
the outside light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaning his one-hundred-and-eighty-pound
body against the frame of the door, he jerked it open.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">An atomic blast of wind
exploded into the dark room and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">almost knocked them
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Angered by its own ineptness to
gain passage, the cold</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stalked the premises of
3930 Mallard Way, anxiously awaiting the opportunity to</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">vent its built up
frustrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the solid oak door
swung open, it wasted no</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">time in smashing against
Travis, shooting millions of icy bullets</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">through his bone marrow,
crystallizing the red blood cells into one frozen lake.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It then headed upstairs
skipping two steps at a time until it had reached the top.</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
horned incubus knew the route only too well for it too had traveled the</span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">midnight tracks of his
mind every night since the horrible accident.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">At the top of the
staircase it turned towards the two helpless figures standing</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">by the doorway and in a
low throat gurgling voice it pushed words of absolute</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hatred down into the
frozen foyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although Travis was
certain that he was the only one who could hear the voice, he knew that Robert
felt the evil presence in the cold house.</span></b><br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You mother
fucking bastard!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where were you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why weren’t you there to help<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">your family?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve come for the urn!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He arched his skull back almost touching</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his shoulder blades and
snapped the bones in his neck to draw more attention to</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hesitated for but a second before it
disappeared into the bedroom.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Possessed by Lucifer,
the incubus wedged its repulsive torso between the cracks</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of the attic door and
the frame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the voice of Satan, a
voice that plagued him</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">every night and rocked
his mind into explosions of searing pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis wasn’t going to let his arrival bother him, but he knew that a
confrontation was inevitable.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Man, it’s windy out
there,” complained Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Shit, you
would think that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">we could just have one
day this year when the weather wasn’t below freezing.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come in and close the
door behind you,” Travis mumbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fix
us some coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going upstairs to
shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, don’t be lighting up any
cancer sticks in my kitchen!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He didn’t care to hear his
response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that matter, Travis didn’t
care if Robert</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">took the time to close
the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, when he got cold enough,
he would damn well</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">slam the fucking door
shut behind his fat ass.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis snatched the
reindeer skin from the wicker chair in the foyer, wrapped it</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tightly around his husky
frame and proceeded to waddle back up the staircase.</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His feet
felt like scuba diving flippers slapping upon frozen marble as he </span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">transcended towards the
frozen alcove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a scene out of Dr.
Zhivago.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Upon entering the room,
he knew that he wasn’t alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beast
lay in wait,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hidden in the shadows of
the closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt comfortable there,
secure from</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ridicule and disgust from
the Almighty Creator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrapped in a
bacterial infested</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">brown wool death shroud
to hide beneath, it anxiously awaited the arrival of its</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">intended victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ivory nails scraped the walls leaving
deep jagged grooves</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to prove its presence as
the sour stench of its ancient shroud permeated </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">through the fibers of the
dress shirts and slacks hanging neatly in the closet.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The fanged killer was a
composite of hatred and fear, evil and deception that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lived vicariously
throughout the centuries, feeding on misery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">rambunctious killer in a
hypocritical world filled with vivacious nuns and horny</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">priests, with vermin
politicians and rich lawyers who fed off humans like</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">blood hungry leaches in
a Vietnamese swamp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It lived for the
gentle moments of</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the night when victims
were at their weakest, when they were most vulnerable to</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It liked Travis because he was a challenge,
unlike the countless others that fell to his soiled feet.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis could sense its
presence, its starring molten lava eyes burning into the nape</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of his skull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were volcanic pits of burning magma
churning about like a pot</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of chili on top of a hot
stove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A million pieces of hot shrapnel
tore through</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his body in one
incredible explosion inflicting searing pain that pulsed through his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mind and soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every synaptic nerve burst like fire balls
shooting tiny pitchforks<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">throughout his frame,
immobilizing him emotionally and physically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Life did not</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">exist, for if it did, it
spit forth the bile of hatred into the face of a lonely child and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mocked his entire existence.</span></b><br />
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<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ve been waiting for
you, my little one,” whispered the voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Who is the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fucking hero
downstairs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here to protect you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started to laugh, but cut</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">itself short.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis walked into the
bedroom, turned on the overhead light and turned his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">attention toward the
closet door. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could have easily
slammed it shut and ended the antagonism, but instead he chose to respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go to hell!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Been there,” it
responded sarcastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, saw your
wife and kid there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They told me to tell you
that they were scared, and that they needed you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were all huddled together in a corner
screaming in pain and begging for their savior to come and free them from this
never ending nightmare.” He hit a nerve and drank deep from the tormented soul
that stood helpless outside the closet door.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast watched as the
hero sat down on the edge of the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
that moment it knew that all heroes great and small simultaneous fell to their feet
and gazed in horror upon this once great storyteller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This mythical father that swore to forever
protect his family was defeated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Innocent women and children around the world looked in awe and in fear
as they knew only too well his fate, yet they couldn’t stop watching this man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In every life and to every child comes the
day when he no longer believes in dreams, forever closing his mind and shutting
down his imagination.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That day
was finally here, as the boy wept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was defeated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man with the inconsolably
boyish face with intoxicating light green eyes cried into his hands. The boy
who looked like he could have been on the cover of some firefighters’ calendar
now resembled a heap of wilted seaweed covering the island coastline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was not a man, rather a wounded boy
with a 10-inch dagger in his heart.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What the hell do you
want of me you fucking bastard?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is
it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you an</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">addict?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you need me to survive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What, you can’t live if I don’t feel guilty?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Is that it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I do feel the pain, every fucking hour
of every fucking day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had enough courage to
stick a gun in my mouth and blow my fucking brains</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">out, I would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swear I would!” yelled Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh, the Beast loved it
when it discovered someone’s Achilles heel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was a</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">vampire, sucking the
blood of hope from his prey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His fanged
incisors punctured</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the victims throat just above
the jugular as his parched lips closed over the open</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wound, careful not to
lose one red drop of fluid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
feeding time at the trough.</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I want
the urn and I want your soul now,” he said demandingly.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked straight
into its monstrous face and replied, “You can’t have either, not now, not
ever,” and slammed the door shut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
over for now, quiet for the time being, but it would return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always returned for another fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">onslaught of nightmares
was sure to chew away at his subconscious later that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">night.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The sour stench of
failure to protect his family permeated the very</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fibers of his mind, and
the click of the almighty 38 assuaged the vein ridden</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">temples with promises of
quick relief from reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a simple
pull upon the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">silver half-moon icon,
the child within could forever kiss the wings of immortality </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and join the illustrious
few that had so cowardly proceeded him.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was not afraid to
die, he was just terrified at the prospect of living in a world</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that no longer cared for
his existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When a man no longer
walks with his </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">shadow and finds solace
in the form of revenge, then it was time to kneel before</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the executioner and
welcome death in any manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was
what he had read in all those storybooks when he was just a kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps tomorrow Dr. Travis Owen would blow
his head off and end the torment, but tomorrow was many hours away.</span></b><br />
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<br /></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Ten minutes later, he emerged into
the dimly lit kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">distinct aromas stung
his frostbitten nostrils; cigarettes and coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">often pondered the
function of nasal hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had to
serve some purpose, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">possibly to keep the
nasal cavities warm, or maybe it was just a part of the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">body filtration
system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever they were supposed to
do, they didn’t do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">air was always cold, and
he constantly had to blow his nose to breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Now, Travis loved the fresh scent
of strong coffee brewing, but detested what</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">usually accompanied it;
cigarettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the inhabitants on
the island smoked.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was a way of life, an
hourly ritual that absorbed much of their spare time and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">consumed a good portion
of their lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marlboro, Camel and the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">other tobacco giants
controlled these drones, these obedient junkies just dying for</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">their next fix.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Hey, no smoking in the house,
moron!” he snapped.</span></h2>
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, sorry dude,”
apologized Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tossed the butt
into the sink that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">still contained the
dishes from two nights ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lieutenant
Sterling knew that</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis Owen thought
little of people who craved the taste of tobacco and who</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">selfishly forced others
to breathe in the stale burning stench.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell, Robert knew</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">it, and he even
respected his best friend for not smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He smoked inside the</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">house to see if he could
get away with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although, Sterling was
nearing thirty-six, he still acted much like the adolescent, Huck Finn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Telling him not to do something</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">only made him want to do
it even more.</span></b><br />
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<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If someone dug a big
hole in the backyard, packed it with venomous green</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">vipers from South
America and emaciated alligators from the Bayous of Southern</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Louisiana, then dropped
a full pack of Marlboros into the pit, Robert would dive in</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">head first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply informing him of the luscious prize
floating in snake shit and</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">alligator spit would be
too much for someone with no will power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Telling him to leave it
would be like telling a politician to refrain from taking bribes </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">from foreign lobbyist
groups in Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, telling him not
to smoke</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">would be like telling
Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau and his Liberal Party to keep their pants on in
a Texas brothel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just couldn’t be
done.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert Sterling and he
were the best of friends, despite the name calling,</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">practical jokes played
on one another, and the occasional scuffling matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fact, Robert was the
only friend that Travis had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been
there for him through thick and thin for the past thirty years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Robert who helped him pull through the
accident in 2014.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They were the best of
friends, and they were the worst of enemies to themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One could not survive without the other and each
of them would have given their life without a moment’s hesitation to save the
other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To die alone in a cruel world
that never acknowledged or appreciated your existence was unthinkable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he had one last good memory, one last
reason to live to fight, it was Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because of their friendship, Travis survived the accident with a good
portion of his sanity intact.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The clink of a spoon
hitting the cold tile floor brought Travis back to the present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was back in his kitchen, Wednesday morning,
April 16, 2018, dealing with </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a sip of his coffee and glanced at
the big round Seiko on </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the wall just above the
sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The time 10:05 but that’s what it
always displayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis had never
replaced the batteries since the death of his wife and son, and that was nearly
four years ago.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You put sugar in this,
I hate sugar.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was annoyed, but
he expected this much of Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Asshole!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, sorry dude,”
replied Robert, half smiling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could
barely contain his </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inner laughter.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“I hate sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What time is it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a sip of the coffee and sat <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">opposite Robert at the
kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know, putting this
shit in my coffee </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">just ruins the whole
fucking flavor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not supposed to
taste like a Hershey </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Chocolate bar as if you
didn’t already know that.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert ignored the
sarcasm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, to answer your question,
my watch is </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">freezing up, but it
looks like Mickey’s little hand is on the six and his big hand is </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pointing to something
between his legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I would have to
conclude that either </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">it’s 6:30 in the
morning, or that Mickey Mouse is having another bout with crabs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And, by the soured
expression upon the little fucking rodent’s face, I would say that </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his balls are on fire.”</span></b><br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis gave
a short laugh of approval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks for
the rhetoric numb nuts.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He </span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lifted the cup to his
mouth and took a good sip before placing it on the wooden </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah, I love fresh brewed coffee in the
morning,” said Travis.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, you might want to
open up some of these,” Robert said pointing to the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mail on the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Might be something important.” </span></b><br />
<div style="mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: 0in .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;">
<br /></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Yeah, like what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could be important? If it were that
important they could have emailed me instead of wasting paper and stamps.”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ya never know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could be that you won some sweepstakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want me to pop </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">these babies open, eh,
Travis?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis pushed the stack
of mail across the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Help
yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, what’s the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bad news today?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert reached down to
pick the spoon up off the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
proceeded to </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">unbutton his gray overcoat
and withdrew a conspicuous manila envelope from the inside pocket of his
jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the front of the eight by eleven-inch
envelope, printed in bold letters read, “PRIVATE.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis grabbed the
parcel, threw it on the table and shook his head in disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He knew what sort of
repulsive images spackled the five by seven glossy sheets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">look at them
later.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Working as a freelance psychologist
for the government wasn’t all glimmer and glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no heroes to speak of, and nobody
really seemed to care anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People
died every day, animals were beheaded for no apparent reason, children were
molested, and the elderly were shunned and forgotten like used diapers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 21<sup>st</sup> century held so many
positive possibilities for government </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">reunification,
employment opportunities, healthcare reform and a revamping of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">welfare issues that it
was inconceivable to think change was inevitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis thought to himself, what the hell was
Justin Trudeau doing to help the citizens of Canada?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had all the power in his hands, and yet he
was just like his father, useless.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Working for the
Charlottetown police department, Robert and he had seen thousands of grotesque
pictures: decapitated seals, dolphins with their snouts chopped off, baby whales
gutted, and even giant sea turtles that had cocaine shoved up their rectums to
elude the Coast Guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No rational
explanation for these atrocities were ever given, at least none that would make
any sense to a humane society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis
just couldn’t stomach it this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I’ll look at them later, dude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Besides, I’ve got a new patient to see today.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bad news always seemed
to live in this kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life for Travis
and his family </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was to forever change on
December 14, 2014.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter how many
years passed </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or how many bottles of Johnny
Walker that Travis downed, he couldn’t forget the horror of that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always slithered inside his cold bed at
night and wrapped its icy bones around his aging body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It clung to him like a vampire feeding upon a
fresh kill after a long rest inside his soiled coffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The strong scent of guano and rotting blood
filled the tomb with sickening vapors, pacifying the hungry monster until it
could escape its prison of pine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it
drank from Travis, it drank from a succulent reservoir that could only be
drilled late at night when the eyelids reluctantly shut themselves hoping for a
restful slumber.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But, all that he came to
expect and longed for in life changed on that fateful day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis had gotten off
work early and was eager to do some Christmas </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was getting on towards the holiday season
and he was excited as a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">jack rabbit in
heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved Christmas, not so much
for the presents that he would receive, but for the joy that it gave to his
beautiful wife of nine years and to his five year-old son, Brice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, Travis truly believed in the adage
that, “it’s better to give than to receive.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He desired nothing and needed nothing materialistically, but did crave
the frantic frenzy of Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Travis was forced to double wrap
all the presents, and then bind them in duck </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tape as his inquisitive
wife would undoubtedly pilfer a preview of coming </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">attractions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jill had no patience and their son, Brice,
obviously had gotten this from </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">her side of the
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As crafty as he thought he was,
Jill always seemed able </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to open the packages and
re-wrap them, without showing any evidence of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tampering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A forensic pathologist would have a difficult
time linking Jill to </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the scene of this
crime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, he loved them.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Come Christmas morning,
beside a roaring fire, the family </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">would sit on the white lama
skin rug that barely covered the den floor, and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">proceed to rip open the
gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jill would hold a present high
over her head, still </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sealed in tacky duct
tape, vigorously shake the box, and say, “Hmmmmmm, let me </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could it be a white bathrobe?” and behold,
she was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, he knew </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that he hadn’t married a
physic, rather a crafty lady who could outsmart the pants </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">off David Copperfield.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Brice, on the other
hand, was a typical youngster caught up in the Christmas </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would immediately grab for the largest
gift, expecting to find the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">most awesome of
presents, only to be sadly disappointed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a practical joke, Robert, who automatically assumed the title of
Uncle, would wrap up a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">large box with nothing
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he came over later in the
morning, as he </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had been doing for the
past six years, Uncle Robert would blame the Tooth Fairy</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">for stealing all the big
presents.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lieutenant Sterling
would explain that difficult times and the slow economy </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">caused infirm adults to
steal and commit hideous crimes of passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He never went </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">into much explanation
about crimes of passion, it was just thrown in nonchalantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Desperate times lead to
desperate measures, and to put it bluntly, “the Tooth Fairy </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was a pilfering
fag.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dressed in a baby blue tutu with
his hairy butt cheeks </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">protruding out of his
mother’s tiger skin panties, the fairy would sneak into homes </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">at night and steal all
the Christmas presents. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Grinch
couldn’t hold a candle to </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">this sadist!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cared little about the boys and girls who
would be disappointed </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">on Christmas day, he
cared only about his nicotine addiction and his prized porno </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">collection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Tooth Fairy was especially fond of half-naked
pubescent </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">African girls posing in
maternity undergarments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately,
Brice was far too </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">little to comprehend
Uncle Robert’s bizarre imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
story lines verged </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">on the edge of madness.</span></b><br />
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<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Not to worry, little
dude,” he would tell Brice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Last night
while your favorite </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">uncle patrolled the
beat, I came upon the fairy breaking into Mrs. Kane’s Cheese </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Shop.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert would pound upon his chest and contort
his face to look more </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fearsome and
gallant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speaking in a raspy voice as he
knelt in front of the fireplace, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he would continue his
fictional story that even O.J. Simpson’s delusional jury </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wouldn’t buy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I came up to him and gave him a good kick in
the ass!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sir, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that’s exactly what I
did.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was proud of himself, gloating in
his story telling </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">prowess.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Brice would giggle like
a cackling machine gun and listen attentively to every </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">word that vomited from Robert’s
lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just loved the crazy adventures
that </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">seemed to happen only to
his favorite Uncle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He often wished that
his dad was a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">policeman instead of
being a boring old doctor who talked to crazy people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he grew up he was going
to be a policeman, or maybe a cowboy and clean up the </span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">island
of all villains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of this he was certain.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill and Travis would
cuddle up to one another, she sitting between his legs and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he leaning against the
tan leather sofa, sipping his coffee and playing with her long </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">straight hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They listened attentively to Robert and
laughed along with Brice as </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Uncle Robert recounted
his escapades of heroism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year his
stories seemed </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to get longer and wilder
and almost verge on the brink of idiocy.</span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s
right,” growled Robert.</span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What’s crimes of passion?” inquired Brice.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Never you mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now listen, little dude, I gave him a big
kick in the ass, like </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proceeded to demonstrate using all the
force he could muster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">kicked him so hard that
it would have killed any mortal man, but as we both know, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">little dude, the Tooth
Fairy ain’t no mortal man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sir, he ain’t
no mortal man.”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Brice jumped up and
threw both hands in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Like
Superman,” he yelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Running around in circle
he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Look, I’m Superman!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, not exactly like
Superman, in fact, quite the opposite,” said Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You might say that he
was a super power villain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you know
who O.J. Simpson </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or Bill Clinton are?”</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Brice stopped running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No.”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, it doesn’t really
matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The point is this Fairy was
more conniving and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">detrimental to the
fabric of our society as we know it today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do you understand me, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">little dude?” questioned
Sterling.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Brice shrugged his
shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nope.”</span></h2>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It doesn’t really
matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now sit down and listen to the
story, ok?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brice </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">plopped to the floor
beside his mother.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“There he was, dressed
in a blue tutu and wearing his mother’s wild panties and his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">sisters black fur boots, standing knee deep
in the snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had stashed clumps of </span></span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">sharp
cheddar Cheese in his bra, and I must say, if I were an ordained </span></h1>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">minister, I might be
tempted over to the gay side!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The gay side?” asked
Brice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s that?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Never you mind,”
interrupted Jill. “Just get on with your story, Robert and try to refrain from
using such language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really makes you
sound like a homophobe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really makes
you sound stupider than you are.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert ignored her
comment and continued with his story. “Now, where was I,” muttered Robert?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh yeah, so there I was, man to fairy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the first to grab for his bloodthirsty
weapon, the infamous fairy wand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew
that I only had a split second to act, or lose my teeth at the hands of this
demigod.”</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“So,
what did you do?” asked the ever-impatient child.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sterling grabbed the mug
from my hand and took a sip to clear his throat </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and to stall for
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He needed a second to unscramble his
thoughts and figure out an interesting conclusion to his wild story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fabricating a tale like this took more </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">energy and imagination
than Robert had anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sterling
gave a sour </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">grimace, “Yuck, no
sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can you drink this shit
straight?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not waiting for a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">reply he continued, “I
grabbed for my police baton and whopped him over the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yeah, that’s what I
did.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He starred at Brice waiting for
some sort of response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">credibility was on the line,
and he knew it.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And?” asked Brice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hurry up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What did you do next?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you
punch him in </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the nose?” </span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“He dropped his wand,
grasped his skull, and started to cry like a baby with </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">diaper rash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not waiting for him to react, I quickly threw
my super villain </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">handcuffs upon his
fatigued wrists and tossed him into the squad car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, to make </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a long story short, he
confessed and told me where he had hidden all your presents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ve got them just
outside the door over there; that’s if you still want them.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">jerked his head in the
direction of the door way.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Fast as his little feet
could go, he was up from the floor and out the door in </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">less than three
seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lance Armstrong would have been
awed by his speed and </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">determination especially
since Brice didn’t use drugs to enhance his energy level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, as Uncle Robert had promised, there in
a neat pile by the flower box were his stolen presents.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The following year, to
give the charade more credibility, Robert went so far as </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to have a fellow officer
dress in a blue tutu and come over to the Owen household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The joke backfired and
almost resulted in his dismissal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jill
had taken a picture of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the officer in drag,
enlarged it, and proceeded to post it upon the inside wall of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the local post
office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbeknownst to them, the
Captain’s wife had a P.O. box inside </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the same location and
she saw the pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was no laughing
matter; both </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert and the fellow
officer were severely reprimanded and suspended for two </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">weeks without pay.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">This was the typical
Christmas day in the Owens’ household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were plenty</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">of gifts to open, stories to fabricate, food
so delectable it would subdue a finicky </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">troll, and a bona fide
feeling of love and warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If love were
a transparent coat of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">varnish, it had soaked
its way into the very foundation of the old Victorian house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The old two-story white
house was warm, cozy, well furnished, and most of all, it </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">embodied the true
meaning of a home; it meant family and safety.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The home was constructed
in 1967 by local skilled artisans that appreciated fine workmanship and attention
to detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a spectacular custom
built Victorian situated on a manicured lot surrounded by hundreds of elderly
oaks and seasoned apple trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This aged
arbor bathed the house in a cloud of cool shade during the sweltering summer
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ornate trellises and
intricate moldings that softened the appearance of the rigid structure would be
virtually undetectable during the bright summer mornings if not for the brief
reprieve from the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trees served
a useful function as well as giving an aesthetic beauty to the landscape.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill was born and raised
in this home and her father likewise before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had anything to do with
it, Brice and his children would one day inherit it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">marrying Jill in January
of 2005, Travis moved into the house.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The events of December
14, 2014 brought those dreams to an end. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was driving home down Miller road as
usual with tons of presents in the back </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of his SUV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
fresh blanket of snow had recently fallen on top of the </span></b><br />
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">four feet that was already there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road was dark and dangerous to navigate,</span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">especially this late at
night, even for an experienced driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Coming around the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bend in the road, he saw
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked like two cars had melted into
one </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">horrendous accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis pulled in behind the large black Ford
Expedition on the opposite side of the street to see if everyone was alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked like the Ford had lost control and
swerved into oncoming traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t
going to be a good Christmas for anyone involved in this accident, that was for
sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned his ignition off, opened
the car door and jumped out into the cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was at that very moment when he saw the other mangled car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Jill’s yellow Jeep Wrangler. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: 0in .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis stood
there, weak at the knees, unable to fathom this brutal </span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sadistic scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time stalled, like a movie scene that focused
on a corpse to </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">allow the audience ample
time to soak in all the horror and anguish that these two </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had been through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The director’s intention, to leave the
beguiled audience with </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">an impression that they
could never forget, something that would stalk their </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">memories, and plague
them at a subconscious level had been accomplished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">couldn’t have wished for
a better scene which now transfixed and mesmerized </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He walked to the driver
side window and saw Jill and Brice slumped over in a pool</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were dead, of that he was certain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sharp piercing pain like that of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a sharp three-pronged
trowel dug into his lower spine and ripped its way up to the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nape of his skull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis wanted to cry out in pain, close his
stinging eyes, vomit his </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bowels through his
throat, but he didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been
taught that men dared not </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">show grief for fear of
losing one’s pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis vividly
remembered his own father striking him across the face with his powerful fist
for crying at his mother’s funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
that point on, not a tear did he drop, not a hint of grief crossed his broad
Scottish face.</span></b><br />
<div style="mso-pagination: widow-orphan; tab-stops: 0in .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The horror-ridden baby
eyes told a story of torment and utter fear, the likes of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">which nightmares could
never compare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brice and Jill knew the
car would</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hit them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the last few seconds of their lives they
screamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the mouth could move, if
life could but for one moment surge through the tiny veins in his neck, Brice
would utter, “Daddy, make them stop hurting me.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">The fingers dialed, 911.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A soft voice answered, “Can I help you?”</span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Like the pounding of a
thousand Arabian horses galloping into fierce battle, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sweat beads profusely
dripping from their manes, the surge of tears spilled from his</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">m</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">isted green
eyes and poured onto the snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the bottled-up
pain that Travis had <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">tucked away in his
empty stomach was unleashed by this lady’s voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was no longer a man, rather the feeble
remains of a shelled crustacean, ready to be boiled alive and eaten like a
lobster. </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Can I help you please?”
reverberated throughout the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Hello, are </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">you still there?” asked
the telephone operator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She placed her
hand over the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">receiver to call for her
superior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We’re sending out a patrol
car.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were her </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">last words.</span></b><br />
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 20.0pt; font-style: normal;">…….</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">Travis didn’t hear her, didn’t
hear the sirens beside his car, and didn’t </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">notice the officers,
pistols drawn, scurrying about in the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was in a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">different world, spring
time on a luscious green pasture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
flowers blooming, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bees flitting about,
busy gathering pollen from the ripe buds, and the fresh breeze filling his
lungs as he laid down upon the blanket of green grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blueberry bushes were full of ripe
berries and the tart smell attracted the attention of many a hungry insect.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">The sun beat down upon his
youthful face and hairless chest, the warmth </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">massaging the tension
that wormed its way into his muscular frame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He could see </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill, clad only in a see-through
white sun dress, walking towards him carefully balancing two champagne flutes
in one hand, and a bottle of chilled German Riesling in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></h1>
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her
intentions were clear, as were his.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The light beat its way
through the skimpy fabric and showed man how he could </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">truly enjoy life and
forever be content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jill’s vain attempt
to conceal her nudity was </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thwarted by a thousand
bursts illuminating her gracious figure hidden inside the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sight of her golden-brown figure, nipples
stimulated by the jostling of the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">silky fabric against her
skin, was truly the creation of a kind and benevolent God.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis slouched over the
hood of her mangled Jeep and was roused from his dream by a familiar voice.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh my God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words were spoken slowly, one by one in
slow speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">could have done such a
thing,” moaned Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In all my life,
I’ve never seen </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">such a thing.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He placed his hand to his mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you ok?” he asked in a </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">consoling voice as he
tapped Travis’ shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” Travis
was dead emotionally </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and physically to the
outside world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing seemed to move,
the men standing </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">before him held no solid
form; the air molecules snapped like bubbles; and white </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">objects ceased to
reflect any color.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">That was the first time
that he was to see the apparition hiding in the shadows of </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the dimly lit
moonlight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its cranium protruded from the
shroud and its eyes burned with anger as it scanned the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was the only one that could see it, of
that he was sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beast longed to
stay close to the corpses, wanting to run its bony fingers over the slippery
child, but more than anything else, it wanted to lick the flesh of all its
wetness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feel of spongy muscles cascading
ever so gently over its dry tongue excited the taste buds into a feeding
frenzy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gobs of viral white </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">leukocytes drained over
its jowls and formed a chain link of spit hanging from its </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lower lip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked more like a rabid German Shepherd
nearing death, than the cunning calculated killer that God threw from Heaven.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It bore no horns upon
its massive bald skull, nor did it sport a lizard’s tail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was just a deformity, a
freak of nature belonging in a damp cellar, isolated from </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">human touch; locked away
in Pandora’s Box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It scared Travis right
down to the </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bone marrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every hair follicle stood erect, every nerve
moved cautiously before </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sending a signal to the
brain, and every muscle in his body tensed as the creature </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">disappeared back into the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was feeding time.</span></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; font-style: normal;">He knew that he had seen something,
but what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He felt the coldness, smelled </span></h2>
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">its decaying body and
sensed its incredible power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, in all
the turmoil, Travis </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wasn’t sure if the beast
were a figment of his wild imagination, or if in fact, the </span></b><br />
<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Devil
himself was coming for the remains of his son and wife.</span></h1>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">At first, he thought the
spirits of the dead bodies were caught in limbo, pacing </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">back and forth in front
of the yellow jeep in search of escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unsure of their surroundings, and lacking the insight to find the proper
door, these abandoned specters wandered aimlessly by the Jeep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was to learn that this shadow demon was
a cursed spirit, not the souls of his recently killed family.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">To some, pain can be
measured in degrees of unpleasant stimuli that can awaken </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the most tender and
heavily guarded of nerves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These silos,
created by our Maker, </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">were never designed to
be opened, let alone be touched by immortal hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps this demon was surveying the crash
scene testing God’s reaction or his level of concern for Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It desperately wanted to poke its sharp bony
fingers into the victim and hear the shrieks of pain and watch Travis sink to
his knees and cry out in defeat accepting his new reality, Jill and Brice were
dead. But, it had to be careful of God’s wrath and overstepping its boundaries.
For the time being, it would sit back and observe Travis, waiting for its time
to strike the victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The driver of the black
Ford Expedition that had plowed into his wife and son was barely injured. A few
days after the funerals, Travis learned that the driver had been drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was sentenced to three and a half years in
prison for vehicular manslaughter and was let out early after serving only nine
months of jail time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never got a good
look at his face, all he could remember was that he looked Asian.</span></b><br />
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">CHAPTER<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>2</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis got to his office around 9:45 and turned on the
light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a small two room office
down on Franklin Street overlooking the fishing docks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fresh smell of the ocean bathed the room
in the familiar scent that he had come to love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His secretary was on vacation for the next three weeks, and that was
just fine with Travis because it gave him some time to crank up tunes on the
stereo and to sit back and relax alone in the office and alone in his
thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had scheduled his first
appointment for 10:00 that morning so the next fifteen minutes were spent
listening to Rod Stewart and thumbing through some paperwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His office was never busy, but he had enough patients
coming through the door to keep the lights on, pay the bills, and to survive comfortably
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis remembered when he first got
his degree and thought he would cure the world of all its problems and make
great contributions to society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boy, was
he ever wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The morning sun spanked its warm rays through the office
window and baked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his aged face in a cozy blanket of warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis stared at some photographs on his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cluttered desk and picked up an old picture of a
little child clad in a yellow shirt</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and a brown blazer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His crooked hair dangled over his olive-green eyes as he lay</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">with his back against this old Hemlock Tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bark of the tree dug into him</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">as he pushed himself into the seasoned trunk, jostling
about like a wild grizzly bear</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">trying to scratch that one itch that was just out of
reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was truly happy</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">then, living vicariously off reruns from THE ANDY
GRIFFITH SHOW and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pretending that he was Opie Taylor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life on Prince Edward Island was anything</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">but easy for the inhabitants, but to a six-year-old
boy, it was heaven on earth.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The hair cut was the traditional bowl cut given to him
by his older foster sister, who </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had aspirations of someday owning her own hair
salon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a free haircut and that
was all that mattered to a six-year-old boy who owned absolutely nothing but
owed the world everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someday when
he became rich and famous he would give back to all those who opened their
homes and let loose their drunken anger upon an orphaned child.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life had a
cruel way of playing tricks upon little boys and girls and especially to
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It snuggled them in a nebulous
fog of deceit, lying to them about imaginary heroes who wore red garments and
delivered presents to all the good little children, about tiny fairies who
placed trinkets of silver under their pillows at night in exchange for a tooth,
and most of all it lied about their moms and dads.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Growing up an orphan and moving from foster home to
foster home in search of new parents was exhausting work, especially to a six-year-old
boy with dreams of finding a loving family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Each time he thought that he had found sanctuary in a new family, the
familiar old blue Pontiac station wagon appeared and took him away to a new
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No home was better or worse than the previous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each had their own trials and tribulations
and each parent came with a different skill set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the parents were content with the
monthly check they received and couldn’t care less about the welfare of the
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To them, this primitive
ragamuffin was some unwanted and unplanned offspring destined for failure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was interrupted by a knock on the office door.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come in,” he
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The door swung open and in walked Bob, his 10:00
appointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t know at the
time, but within the next seven days, this man would change his life
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never fathomed that he would
meet someone who he hated for so many years and in a matter of a few seconds
give him the courage to want to live.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The Hemlock tree that once shaded him in its cool
umbrella of darkness would have to wait to work its poison upon another
pessimistic soul bent on self-destruction and inner hatred. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sweet odorless venom that flowed through
the vertical veins on each spade leaf beckoning Travis Owen all night long and
mixing its photosynthetic toxins during the day would lose its suicidal
calling.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">At first glance, Bob looked like the average middle
aged man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no distinguishable
features to speak of, nor did he sport any wild tattoos, ear piercings, nose
rings or any other body modifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His slightly graying hair put him between 40-50 years of age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides the slight belly that comes from lack
of exercise and a proper diet, Bob was just your average Caucasian
businessman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although, when he turned
sideways, he did sort of resemble the American actor, Val Kilmer.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis stood up and shook his hand as he came towards
the desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good to meet you, I’m Dr.
Travis Owen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You must be Bob Hunter”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob smiled like a Cheshire Cat as he shook Travis’
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Glad to meet you and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thank you for seeing me on such short notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you mind if I take a seat?” he</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">said motioning toward the empty chair in front of the
desk.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Please make yourself comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you like a cup of coffee?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No thanks, Dr. Owen.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was nervous and at the same time looked eager</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to start.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, Bob, why don’t we start with some preliminary
questions, if that’s alright</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">with you?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sound good to me,” replied Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob let’s start with a little about you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell me about your childhood, where</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">you grew up.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,” said Bob, “I grew up here on Prince Edward
Island, believe it or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still a
Canadian citizen and ended up marrying an American girl, though she acts more
like a Canadian than I do.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis picked up a pen to jot down a few notes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, were you born on the island?”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Actually, I was born in Lachine Montreal in 1964 and
I really don’t know</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">exactly when we moved to Prince Edward Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it would have to have </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">been sometime in 1965 after my younger brother was
born.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis interrupted him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So how many brothers and sisters do you
have?</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Two older sisters and one younger brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the middle child,” he said.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And what about your parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are they still together?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they live on the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">island?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, yes and no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mother ran away when I was about two or three years old and I’ve
never seen her since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was almost fifty-three
year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, where she</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ran off to is still a mystery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only assume that living with my father</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">probably wasn’t all that pleasant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you think about it, four</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">screaming brats all nine to twelve months apart had to
be a nightmare.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, has this affected you in any way?” Travis asked.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Are you asking me, do I want to kill the bitch for
deserting four babies, leaving them to die, maybe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, then again, I could understand her fear,
her frustration at having to deal with an alcoholic husband, having to work all
day long at IBM, and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">then coming home to a small herd of babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were probably a good example for</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a pro-abortion poster warning some sixteen-year-old
girl of what could happen</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">if you don’t practice safe sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the bottom of the poster it would read,
“Please have your boyfriend castrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He is a fucking asshole to have done this to you.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis had to chuckle at his comment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sorry,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please continue with</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">your story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you remember anything about your life with your mother?”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I can’t recall much of the whole process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I was accidently stoned on</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Demerol or maybe I just couldn’t shake the nicotine
hangover from the previous</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever
the case, I would love to boast and brag and tell you I remembered</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">everything about the whole conception process, but to
be quite honest, I didn’t do</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">much except go with the flow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, if it hadn’t been for all those
muscular</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">contractions squeezing me like a python swallowing a ten-pound
warthog, I would</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">never have come out into the real world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life was just fine in the uterus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was damn good, the rent cheap, no brothers or sisters
to share my bedroom with,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and I was floating inside a real woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be almost twenty years</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">later until any part of me returned to this exact
point in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">would I want to be evicted from this peaceful garden?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And you remembered all this?” asked Dr. Owen.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hell no,” responded Bob, “but let me go on with my
story.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Complaints, I had</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a few considering the cramped living space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life at times was too close for </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">comfort if you get the double entendre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I occupied much of my free time counting toes
and fingers, sucking on my thumbs, and trying new and imaginative yoga positions
with my feet over my shoulders and head dangling comfortably between my ass cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From that view point, I got a whole new
perspective on the world.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob Hunter was on a roll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t know if he was just rambling on
to amuse</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">him, or if perhaps this was going somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps his early recollections were</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">real to him, although it was doubtful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t really care as it </span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was Bob’s money and time he was wasting, and besides,
he had nothing better to do</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
next client wasn’t scheduled until noon, and Travis sort of enjoyed hearing his
Jay Leno monologue. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In truth, Bob
was a delightful distraction to his usual run of the mill clients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was extremely entertaining and had a flair
when it came to storytelling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times
his comments were poignant leading Travis to see below the façade and hear the
pain in Bob’s voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of his clients
chose to use humor to disguise pain and Bob was certainly no exception to that
rule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, Bob would tire of his
story and tell Travis the reason for his visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Of that he was sure. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The only other concern worth mentioning,” said Bob,
“was the pollution </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">control system, or better yet, the lack of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved my cozy undecorated flat, but</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">really didn’t care too much for the tenants in the
apartment adjacent to mine.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They probably worked for the Phillip Morris Tobacco
Company as they were</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">always lighting up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fumes seemed to billow through the small opening at</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the top of the uterus and drift about the ceiling
before eventually filling my</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">entire apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It stung my little eyes and burned the back of my throat</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">almost making it unbearable for me to breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something would have to change</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">real soon or I was going to have to move.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Besides the yoga training classes and the occasional
visits from the sinister </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ovary twins and lovable Mr. Bladder, I spent much of
my free time tossing and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">turning, kicking and punching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My pudgy claws and mighty legs were the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">reincarnation of Bruce Lee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had taught these limbs well, expecting and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">demanding perfection in execution of thrust and quick
maneuvers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a student,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I excelled in these lessons and drank deep the
knowledge of one so wise and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">dangerous.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked straight at Bob and said, “And you
remember all this?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, but it makes for an interesting story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, every stance, every move and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">every graceful motion of the human body was
painstakingly studied through DNA</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">osmosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
ludicrous as it might sound, the instinctive abilities that now pulsed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">through my forming body inside the uterus became a
raging inferno of knowledge.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">My hands became tempered steel swords capable of
puncturing the hide of an</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">elephant, and my feet were now registered instruments
of death.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I fought many a battle inside this slippery arena
thwarting the advancing</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">armies with blistering jabs and quick lighting
thrusts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were no match for an</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">unborn JEDI Knight who proudly wore his intestinal
belt like a fifth degree black </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">belted Ninja Master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My Dojo would never forget my triumphs over the lascivious </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ovary sisters and their numerous assignation attempts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an unborn fetus, I was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">already a legend inside my mother’s womb.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob hesitated for a moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably stalling for time to think up some
more</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">anecdotes to amuse Travis, or perhaps to figure a way
to get to the point of his story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis really didn’t care if Bob wanted to ramble on with
his delusional fable as it was not his money he was wasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob paid for an hour and Travis was going to
listen for an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, from a fetus’s
perspective, Bob’s story might make sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The uterus probably represented his concept of a time in his life when
he felt secure from the outside world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The other body parts and organs probably represented the hostilities of
growing up in the real world and having to deal with stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Now, where was I?” asked Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis pushed his chair back from the desk and leaned
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">were saying something about thinking you were a Ninja
inside your mother’s</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">womb.”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh yeah,” smiled Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Well, to my close inner circle of friends I showed compassion and
loyalty and was happy to share food and drink,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">room and board, with every organ in this body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to my enemies, I was known</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">as Bobby The Butcher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My hit list contained names like, The Conniving Ovary Twins, Charley The
Choking Umbilical Cord, Vinnie The Stinky Placenta Bag, and Pete, The Never
Limp Penis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever the slippery cad
came to visit, all hell would </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">break loose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The walls shook, the floor shuddered and all the floating organs sloshed
about frenzied excitement.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Peter too felt the full wrath of a seasoned Taekwondo
Master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">protruding giant day or night would slither his frilly
mushroomed head through the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Unknown Tunnel and act like he owned the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no respect for the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">occupants, and never once did he stick around to clean
up his mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sir, he</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was definitely no friend of mine.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It sounds like you have a very sarcastic recollection
of life inside your mother’s</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">womb,” said Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I can’t remember anyone ever describing it so comically as you do, Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if you are auditioning for
America’s Got Talent or if you are writing a story for Penthouse Forum
magazine.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob smiled and continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of all the intruders, Peter was the master
of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">deception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
truly was a rival to be reckoned with, almost mythical in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">appearance and well trained in the technique of hit
and run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came to hate and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">respect this foe, although I knew the day would come
when Peter would have to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a
military build, well-formed and hard as a rock, but I felt</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">confident that I could take the slippery bastard in a
fair fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately for</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">me, most of the encounters were surprise attacks,
usually late at night or during</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the quiet hours of the early afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt about it, he was a military man</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">down to his very shorts that he put on in the
morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His knowledge of sleep</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">patterns, his incredible understanding of me and his
daily habits led me to believe </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that Peter was watching me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the Ovary Twins were spying, leaking</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">vital information through the tunnels late at night to
their superior, Peter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thing was for sure, these two convulsing spheres sure
acted peculiar when Peter</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">came thrusting through the saloon doors, almost
throwing themselves into </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">seizures.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“In all my many months of life within the uterus, I
had never seen two people</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">get so excited to see anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They burned so hot and itched so bad just
like a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">couple of baboons with a herd of Amazon Ants chewing
away at the lining inside</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">their rectums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whether they were acting in cahoots with Peter or were involved</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in some love sex triangle, they nonetheless showed their
true colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Peter was </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to be liquidated with impunity, the oblong twins would
also have to go.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Excuse me, for just a moment,” interrupted
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He motioned towards the coffee
pot on the table behind his desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are
you sure you don’t want a cup of morning coffee?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Not waiting for Bob to respond, he got up from his
chair and walked to the back of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the office and filled his cup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis took a quick glance outside the window
and noticed some couples holding hands as they trudged through the freshly
fallen snow </span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">heading towards Frank’s Deli across the street from
his office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He glanced at his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">watch and noticed that it was nearing 11:00 in the
morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">turning around, Travis said, “Continue with your
story, Bob.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And thanks
for the offer,” replied Bob, “but I’ve already had four cups this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now to continue with my story, so the
question now is how and when to dispose of these infiltrators. They knew my
every move, as they floated near me every day and night, tickled my feet, scratched
my back, and bombarded me with low frequency noises and high iterating sounds to
drive me insane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the same mode
apparatus that was used on the Davidian Cult just outside Waco Texas in 1993.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could just get a few moments alone, a
few precious seconds to myself so that I could devise my plan of attack upon
these infectious traitors, I knew I could come up with something to banish them
forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I could concoct some poisonous
substance and force it down their spongy throats, or maybe I would just use one
of my many death grips and choke the life from these maggots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind was rushing with ideas like a flood
of rainwater cascading effortlessly over Niagara Falls at speeds more than 200
miles per hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without remorse and without
a moment’s hesitation these droplets linked together with billions of other water
molecules throwing themselves over the cliff and plummeting to uncertainty.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was evident that Bob had a few issues with trust in
his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe he</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was trying to tell Travis something about feeling
insecure in his marriage or perhaps he had some emotional bonding issues after
his mother left him in 1966.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a good
sip from the cup and sat back down in the leather chair.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob rambled on with his story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This was either the act of idiocy or the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">unselfish act of heroism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To simply band together in a liquid form with
free</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thinking hydrogen and oxygen molecules and agree to
one general theory of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">movement was asinine, at least that’s what I
thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I could use some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of my vast pool of knowledge about gravitational pull,
combined with my</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">expertise in buoyancy and push the dreaded three out
through the reticulating </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">esophagus of pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There had to be some way to use the flow of fluids and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">constricting muscles to push objects back through the
opening, and forever</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">free myself of their obnoxious behavior.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The biological clock and its demands would supersede
the desires and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">aspirations of its only intelligent occupant, me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Global changes were wreaking havoc upon the
underflow as the womb seemed to swell like a balloon overnight.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Consequently, execution day for the three untouchables
would have to wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">walls were slowly closing in on an already
claustrophobic baby and temperatures</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">within the womb were making it extremely uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I was no</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">meteorologist, but certain weather patterns were
becoming increasingly noticeable,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">especially whenever my head got close to the Unknown
Tunnel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had only seen</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">people enter through this spongy tube, I had never
ventured through these</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">corridors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps the mystery behind these climatic changes was directly</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">related to some event that was happening outside my
home and the only way to </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">know for sure was to leave my safe sanctuary and
investigate.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But, did I have enough courage to boldly go where no
baby had gone before?</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And, if I could muster the courage, how could I be
sure things would go back to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">normal once I returned from my trek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was already faced with having to rid</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">myself of Peter and the Oblong Sisters and my absence
would give them ample</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">time to sabotage my home and steal my valuables,
though I was rather</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">foggy as to what I owned in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, one thing was for sure, something </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had to change and change soon or I would be forced to
seek legal assistance</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and press charges against the landlord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loathed this option, but what </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">alternatives did I have except to abandon my home that
I loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Unfortunately, I never got the chance to deliberate
much on this, as on March</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">16, 1964 I was forcefully evicted and thrust into the
waiting arms of my mother and father.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wow, that’s quite a story, Bob,” Travis said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve never heard anyone utter such nonsense
in all my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the rest of your
therapy goes like this, we just might have you committed to the Jerry Seinfeld
Clinic for the comically deranged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell
me, have you ever thought about becoming a comedian or a writer for The Tonight
Show with Jimmy Fallon?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob smiled back and said, “Thanks for the
compliment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I find it</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">easier to make fun of my life than to cope with the
realities of events and tragedies </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of growing up in a dysfunctional world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my life I’ve learned two things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One, life </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">is just a part of death, and two, I know of a lot of
little people in small places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">not famous, rich, good looking or even that
smart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, if I took an IQ test today,
I </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">would probably score around a 55 out of a possible
250.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife voted against Bill</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Clinton twice and think both he and his wife are an
embarrassment to the presidential legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She and I both can’t stand Donald Trump but would love to fuck his wife
in the ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so, does that make me sound
crazy?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Ironically, it didn’t sound all that crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No Bob, I’m sure there are millions of
people that would like to bend Mrs. Trump over the oval desk and give her a
good shagging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too sure about the
fucking her in the ass, but I’m sure there are a lot of politicians in office
that would like to give President Donald Duck a good fuck in the ass.” Bob
burst out laughing.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Changing the subject, Travis asked Bob, “Oh, so you’re
an American?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, no,” said Bob, “but my wife is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I live in Atlanta, Georgia, but</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">still have my roots in Canada.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked at Bob sitting in his chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t look crazy, but then again, no one looked
the part and certainly no one wore a sticker across their forehead claiming
that they were insane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To him, Bob
looked like a frightened child trying to act tough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a babyish face with black hair and green
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could by no </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">means be considered handsome, but he had a look about
him that probably got him</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">into some trouble with the opposite sex when he was
younger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His carefree attitude</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and his demeanor in the office were probably all just
a show. Bob was hiding something from deep inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times during the conversation it looked as
though he was trying to say something under his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, Bob, why don’t you tell me about your father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you know much about him or did he also run
off?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“My father, hmm, that’s a good one,” said Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, my father was a </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">professional alcoholic and a bootlegger when he was
younger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brought us back</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to Prince Edward Island to be near his family when my
mother ran away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I was around
four years old at that time, but I’m not one hundred percent certain about the
exact age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As fathers go, I would
probably say that he had good intentions, but just couldn’t get his life
straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother and sisters only
lived with him for about a year until we were all placed in separate foster
homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember hearing from my aunt
and uncle that he tried to kill us at one time.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry, what did you say?” unsure of what Travis had
just heard!</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep,” he repeated, “My father tried to kill us once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My aunt told me the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">story when I visited her back in 1993.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said that my father was distraught </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and probably a little drunk at the time it
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father packed all</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">us neatly inside his car one night, placed a hose into
the exhaust pipe and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the other end through the rear window, turned the
ignition switch and started the engine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know how long we were inside the car, but fortunately my aunt
was driving by the house and noticed my father slumped over in the front seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, she turned off the engine and
pulled us out of the car before it was too late. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of that little incident, we went to
live with the grandparents for about a year or so.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And did anything happen to you while at your grandparent’s
house?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, my older sister was molested by my grandfather
and I almost killed myself jumping off a truck one time.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You jumped off a moving truck?” Travis asked shocked!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, I was hiding on the side step of his old black
Ford pickup truck while he was driving down the road one day and got kind of
frightened, not by the truck, but realizing what my grandfather would do to me
if he found out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can remember watching
the pavement zoom by and for no logical reason, I thought I had better get off
the truck and back home before anyone found out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I remember was hitting the pavement and
blacking out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t really remember
how long I was knocked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">unconscious, but the next thing I knew I was lying in
a bed inside their house and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">everyone was nice to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was surely in for an ass beating,
but </span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">never got one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I guess I thought I was destined to become a stunt actor, or perhaps</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">my IQ score of 55 would protect me from the fall. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good thing is that I lived. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">don’t know what kind of damage I did to the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandfather always said</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that my head was harder than rock.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, what happened to your father?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, the only real memory I have of him was him being
hauled off to jail one day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
remember sitting on the steps outside his home in Summerside, PEI and a police
officer came to the house and arrested him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They put his hands behind his back, cuffed him and placed him in the
squad car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the last time I ever
saw him until I was around 28 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Remember, I said that he was a bootlegger; I didn’t say that he was a
smart bootlegger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, he went to
jail for a few years and we went to live with my grandparents until they
decided to get rid of us.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you remember where you went after your
grandparents?” Travis asked somewhat concerned.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I went through a lot of foster homes and the nuns in
Charlottetown took care</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
remember going to some homes all excited thinking this house and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">family were perfect for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day a car would drive up to the curb
and the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">family would basically push me out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I was considered a problem</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">child.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob
smiled when he said this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Very interesting,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know if you know it or not, but I
too was an orphan and eventually adopted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When you think about it, it wasn’t that uncommon here on Prince Edward
Island back in the old days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alcohol
probably contributed to most of the unplanned pregnancies on the island and
lack of good paying jobs led to families being forced to give away their
kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, what did you do after you
left your grandparents house?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I then went to live with the Coulter family in New Bloomfield,
on the southern part of the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were great. I was so excited because my two cousins were already living with
this foster family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a perfect
situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did they have goats,
cows, chickens and horses, but they also had part of my blood family living
under one roof.”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Tell me about the Coulter’s. Were they a good family
to live with?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The Coulters were a great family if you could just
look beyond the shouting matches every night and the raving antics of a knife
wielding lunatic who only fostered us for the government checks that she
received every month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This forty-five-year-old
lady would walk around the old Victorian two story house carrying a knife
threatening to stab herself in the chest in front of us if her husband didn’t
leave her alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They argued every day
about money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day, I’ve never
heard anyone argue about money more than these two people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how their biological seventeen-year-old
daughter had been able to put up with this for so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If these people had been my parents, I’m sure
I would have either slit their fucking throats or run away before I ever hit
puberty.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,” Travis said sympathetically, “the number one
reason for stress in any family these days is over financial issues.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, I watch a lot of Dr. Phil these days, Dr.
Owen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would agree with you</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a hundred percent on that point,” replied Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t know whether Bob was trying to be
sarcastic or if he was trying to read him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For that matter, he didn’t know if half his stories were just a mere
fabrication from some raving lunatic, or if he were really telling Travis the
truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To Travis it really didn’t
matter, they were real to Bob, and everyone’s reality is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob believed these to be true, consequently they
were true to him, not to Travis, the neighbors or any other lucid psychiatrist
on the island, but once again, they were true to Bob Hunter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob, do you have any good memories at the Coulter’s
household?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sure,
I remember cutting the heads off all the chickens one day, setting the fields
on fire one time, and fondling the seventeen-year-old daughter of Mrs. Coulter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also remember sleeping on a plank of lumber
for three years instead of in a bed and watching the black widow spiders
spinning their webs outside my window during the nighttime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can distinctly remember the wolves howling
at night while they were freezing in the forest about a quarter mile away from
our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I can remember eating
potatoes and cabbage every fucking night for three years until I shit out a
leprechaun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, those were some good
times,” Bob replied sarcastically.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m sensing a lot of hostility here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you want to tell me about the chickens?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It may seem like I have a lot of hostility, or
bottled up emotion, but I</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">really had a great time as a kid living in foster
homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know you hear a lot of </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">people blubbering on the Oprah Winfrey Show about how
screwed up their lives are </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">because of what happened over thirty or forty years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, and there are some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">idealistic psychologists who claim that to know the
man, you must first</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">understand the child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I tell you in all honesty, I had fun growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the latter part of my life that I am looking to
fix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, let’s just get to the last five</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">years of my life and skip over this bullshit and get
to the real issue of why I am </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">here.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis knew that he had hit a nerve, but he didn’t
realize at that moment how</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">deep the wound went or how fresh the memory lay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the child within ourselves never
has the chance to grow up, and never learns how to water the roots of a strong
tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All past experiences, all lessons
learned, be they happy or tragic, led to the final path down the garden of good
and evil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Bob wanted to understand
the consequences of his decisions now or in the future, he needed to understand
the basic concept that every action has a reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reaction for not watering the roots of
the tree was death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The action itself
was determined by Bob and inevitably <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>performed by Bob.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob let’s get back to the chicken story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happened to the chickens?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of his favorite movies was Silence of the
Lambs, and he imagined himself just asking Bob to tell Travis what he heard
when his father had butchered the little lambs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fortunately for Travis, he was aware of his words and careful to say chickens
rather than lamb.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s a dumb story, but if you want to hear about it,
ok,” mumbled Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">see, I was about six years old, maybe seven and I had
watched Mr. Coulter sometime during the summer nonchalantly stumble into the
chicken coup, grab a hen right off her roost with his dirty fat hand firmly
around the neck walk outside heading toward the woodpile stacked up against the
old red barn. He proceeded to pick up the axe that was leaning against the
freshly chopped woodpile, lay the chicken’s head on a stump and with one flick
of the wrist, the poor chicken was decapitated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The blood gushed all over Mr. Coulter’s hand and the body jerked back
and forth for a minute or so until it went limp. Well one day later that week I
got the inclination to help Mr. Coulter with his chores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grabbed the axe, went into the chicken coup
and proceeded to chop the heads off every chicken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sort of funny after the first few
because even without heads they would run around the yard for a few moments until
they dropped dead. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must have
decapitated ten to fifteen birds before Mrs. Coulter busted through the front
door of the house and dashed madly towards me and ripped the axe away from
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I can say is, that is one
beating that I probably deserved.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The story didn’t seem to rattle Travis much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, he had heard numerous</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stories of kids imitating adult activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was looking for more of a reaction,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">some sort of epiphany in Bob’s face when he finally
realized why he had suicidal</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">instincts or the desire to kill and mutilate
women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God knows it was too early to </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">diagnose this man, but all indicators pointed to
either a serial killer in training,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or a rapist on the verge of being born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t know at this point if he liked
Bob, but he knew that he needed to know more of his story.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob, why don’t you tell me about Mrs. Coulter’s
daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You say that she </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was seventeen years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was she seven or seventeen?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob brushed his hair across his face and smiled at
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dr. Owen, she was</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">seventeen years old and not too bad looking if I do
say so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not seven, she</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was seventeen, tall, thin with long black hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe her name was Marie and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">she was one messed up chick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She used to beg me to rub her legs and go up
her</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pant legs until I reached her crotch area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never got that far, nor did I understand</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">what she wanted from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said that it felt good and that it was
just a game</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to see how far my hands could reach up her pant
legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At other times she used to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">brag to my cousin, Kathy who was almost sixteen years
old, how she used to make</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">out with these guys in their cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I was the only available boy in the
room,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Marie used to practice on me.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And how did you feel about that?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“How do you think I would feel?” responded Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I loved it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How many </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">seven-year-old boys could boast about making out with
a seventeen-year-old girl?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I guess not too many,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did you ever see Marie again?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, I saw her again in 1993 when I came up to visit
some of relatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, she</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">still looked hot although she was suffering from
multiple sclerosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">remember that she had a young daughter who was around
sixteen or seventeen</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">years old, and she looked hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was kind of strange because you could tell
that</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Marie looked at me like I had all the answers in
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew she wasn’t happy,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">probably suffering from some form of depression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She just looked at me and, I</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">guess, she wondered what I had done in life, the
places I had been, and why I was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">so lucky.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob stopped for a moment to reflect on his last
statement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was profound even for
Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was true, when he was young, he
was the happiest kid in the world. It’s only when he grew up that things turned
ugly.</span></b><br />
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Life plays strange tricks upon people,” smiled Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sometimes you wonder why some folks are born
into lavish homes with loving mothers and fathers while others are born to
homeless crack addicts selling their bodies for a quick fix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean you must really wonder where the
justice is in all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there is a
God, he must have a warped sense of humor, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit
about us.”</span></b></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis took this opportunity to interrupt Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, I guess she never moved off the island?”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, she was born and raised on Prince Edward Island,
and will probably</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">die here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She always
fantasized about meeting someone from America, falling in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">love and living happily ever after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she heard that I had been adopted by</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a great family in New York, educated at some of the
finest schools in America,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">had traveled the world all by the age of twenty-one,
well I guess she felt some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">jealousy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis turned his head towards the clock on the back
wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost 12:00 and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his next appointment was probably waiting outside his office
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bob,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">we’ve just got a few moments left today. Why don’t you
tell me about the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you remember how you felt when you were told the news?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure do, Dr. Owen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It came as a shock to me, but one day Mrs. Coulter asked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">me how I felt about being adopted to a family in
America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was elated to say the
least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, a family wanted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, a few days later the nuns picked me up
in their car and drove me down to the Charlottetown Hotel and introduced me to
my sisters and brother whom I had not seen in over three or four years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember looking at my brother and thinking
how stupid looking he was wearing a pair of shorts, black socks and with an
Indian feather stuck in his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Evidentially, he either thought we were being adopted by Sitting Bull or
he thought it was still Halloween.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What about your adoptive parents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you remember about them?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The first time I saw my adopted mother with her
husband I thought she was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had never seen a good-looking blond-haired woman before and</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">she looked young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can remember looking at my father and wondering</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">what happened to his hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was probably the first time that I had
ever seen a bald man before and I kept on wondering if the old fucker was going
to croak on the way back to the USA.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Did they like you when they first saw you?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob slouched down into his seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was uncomfortable, and I could tell from</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the expression on his face that he really didn’t know
how to answer this question.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, I don’t think they disliked me at first sight,”
responded Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">think they looked at me and took pity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I was dressed in clothes that were</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">donated to some orphanage, probably hadn’t showered in
over a half a year, and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in dire need of a good haircut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the reason they said yes to the
nuns, was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">beyond me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
probably wouldn’t have adopted me, but life is like a game of poker.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">You never know what cards you’re being dealt, and you
don’t know if the other</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">person is bluffing.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But you liked them, right?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob nodded his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Sure, wouldn’t you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I
had just won the fucking</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lottery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
were the first people in four years that wanted to adopt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you stop and think about it, I was
basically the ward of the state since they arrested my father.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis hesitated a moment before continuing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did anything happen during your</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">initial visit with your new family?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, yeah,” laughed Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can remember giving everyone the finger
and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">telling everyone in the restaurant to go fuck
themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can also remember</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">going to the bathroom and leaving the door wide open
and yelling to my American parents as I was sitting on the toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boy, I must have been a sight to see.”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Anything else?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, the first night at the hotel I drowned, or
should I say almost drowned</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the pool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn’t know how to swim and slipped into the deep end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and sisters were somewhere, probably hanging around
the parents for some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
slipped under the water and, of course, started to panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">remember I couldn’t breathe and started swallowing
water until I sank to the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bottom of the pool.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked at Bob in amazement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That must have been a terrifying experience.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes and no,” said Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“After a moment or so, after the panic
settled in and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I realized that I was going to die, well I don’t know
how to explain it, but a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">calmness overcame me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And then after I had given up, I looked up and saw a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">light and somehow, I managed to get to the surface of
the pool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one pulled me</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">up, I just relaxed and somehow, I got to the surface
whereupon I coughed up a </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bucket of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can remember grabbing hold of the pool ledge with </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">my scrawny arms absolutely terrified at what had just
happened and looking at </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">my new parents and realizing that they didn’t even
notice or care what had just</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">occurred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
was probably the first time that I truly realized that these idiots from New
York were going to suck as parents.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Seems almost
too hard to believe, Bob that they didn’t notice.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, it’s the truth,” said Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I never told them about this experience</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">because they wouldn’t have believed me and when you
get right down to it, they</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">really didn’t care.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t believe that they didn’t care, Bob, I think
that it was just an issue of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">not paying attention,” replied Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Perhaps, but looking through the eyes of a child who
almost drowned, I felt</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">certain that they just didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, at that moment I realized that I would
be</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the only one who could or would protect me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes sir, at just eight and a half years</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">old, I decided to take responsibility for myself.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s a profound statement, Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate to break this up, but I do have </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">another appointment waiting for me outside, so we will
have to continue this </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is
10:00 am ok with you?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob got up and walked over to the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He glanced outside for a few seconds scanning
the area as if he were searching for something or someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning his attention to Travis he said,
“10:00 am tomorrow morning is fine with me, Dr. Owen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for your time and help.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Before Travis could respond, Bob was out the
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat back down in his chair</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and brushed the hair from his face and took a few
moments to reflect on the past</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">two hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob
was a strange character, comical to say the least, but a bit messed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">up in the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis didn’t know what Bob wanted from him, salvation or perhaps he just
needed someone to talk to besides his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He wondered what his wife must think of his sense of humor and his crazy
stories.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But then again, perhaps Bob didn’t have a wife or
maybe his wife had died years ago in an airplane crash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe she left him at the alter or maybe she
died of cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wore a wedding ring,
but a lot of guys wore rings these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps, just perhaps, this whole cockamamie fable was Bob’s way to
confessing to the murder of this wife and kids. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just couldn’t shake the feeling that Bob was trying
to tell him something important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
using his life story gauging Travis’ willingness to accept or believe in
ridiculous things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe tomorrow he
would cut through all the bullshit and tell Travis the reason for his visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">CHAPTER<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The crisp snow crunched under the steel belted radials
of his Jeep as Robert and Travis sped off towards Cabot Bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert sat back in Travis’ car as his
chauffeur drove the treacherous roads to their destination. Though it was only
a fifteen-minute drive, it seemed to last for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the potato farmers and the sixty thousand
residents on welfare were either sitting down for an early supper, or sleeping
off an early hangover, dreaming of sugar plums and winning the lottery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If drinking and sleeping were a paying job,
they would all be millionaires. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Hey, do you mind turning on the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s April but its freezing outside”
asked Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You may be half polar bear,
but us warm blooded mammals need artificial heat to keep our balls from turning
into snow cones.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Even though it was 4:30 in the afternoon, the sun still
was blanketed in a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cozy sheet of clouds. Travis had to chuckle at
Lieutenant Sterling’s graphic</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">metaphor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert
sure wasn’t the typical run of the mill boring officer who</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">got off pushing around his badge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that matter, Robert rarely ever carried</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his badge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
probably lost it in some hotel room, or threw it into a snow bank</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in some drunken state.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, sorry,” Travis responded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was just thinking about my new patient
today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His name is Bob Hunter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever hear that name before?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gave the knob a twist to </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">full strength and the soothing air pushed its way
through the frosted vents.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert didn’t answer right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t think so, although it does sound
vaguely familiar, but it’s a pretty common surname.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, how about you and I doing a little ice
fishing later this evening down at the lake?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sound good to you, dude?”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Ice fishing was the one activity that Travis truly
enjoyed though most of the time</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he never caught anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing biting was, frostbite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To him, it was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the sport, not the victory of landing a ten-pound largemouth
bass that made ice</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fishing fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was a tradition, a time of peace in the world when he could unwind</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and let his mind relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert and he would lounge about in summer
lawn</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">chairs clad in warm LL Bean Duck boots, jeans,
jackets, and sit back while</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">drinking a few beers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lieutenant Sterling was by no stretch of the
imagination a prejudiced man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">referred to everyone as, dude or fag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He called everyone by that name, even his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">superiors down at the station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, Sterling had a brother who was still
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the closet, figuratively speaking of course.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Roger, his younger brother, favored himself a poet and
dabbled in writing for the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">local paper in town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nothing he wrote ever made any sense to Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To him, it was nothing but bullshit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only poem that Robert understood, or
thought that he understood was the one about a skeleton hiding in a
closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cryptic poem that tickled the boy in Sterling, though
he missed its intended </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">message by a mile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Roger was so proud of it that he had it framed and hung</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the downstairs den for all to see:</span></b><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">What’s all this hush hush</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">About bones and secrets?</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">None in my closet</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">That’s for sure.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">I would know</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">I hide in there.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">And if I see</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">A bony cadaver,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">Out he goes</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">Into the cold cruel world.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">No secrets in my closet,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt;">That’s for sure!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Though simple in language, it was ironic how utterly
transparent the message</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
ability to foresee the future was a curse to those who understood the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mechanics behind Karma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In life every action had its own consequence
and to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">change the outcome would have a devastating effect
upon everything in the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
fact, if the future could be altered for a fraction of a second, the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">present could and would never exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the sake of the Sterling household it</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was best that Roger kept his secret even if it meant
drowning in his own shame.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis leaned forward and with his right hand flipped
on the radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was tuned to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">C107, the local country and western station on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t that he was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">crazy about this sort of music; he just couldn’t
stomach loud rock-banging noise</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">accosting his ear drums today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soft music, strong black coffee, and a good</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">piping hot shower in the morning gave Travis the
mental strength to face the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He took a long sip from his coffee mug and carefully
placed it into the holder</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mounted on the dashboard. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The warm liquid sliding down his esophagus </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">brought temporary relief to his tensed body, and a
tranquil moment found space</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in his disturbed world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis started to drift off like Walter
Mitty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, you never</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">heard that name before?” he asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nah, it doesn’t ring a bell,” said Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Should it?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis shook his head, “Guess not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interesting character to say the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">an orphan from the island that got adopted by an
American family over thirty-five years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know, he reminded me of someone that I thought I knew.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t say a word for the next ten
minutes and drifted off into his own world as he drove down the road.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis listened to the tires gripping the asphalt as
the Ford rolled down the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
rhythmic sound of the treads hitting small patches of ice took him back in
time.</span></b><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">……..</span></b></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was a just another Friday night, August 1999, and Robert
and he were busy drowning their sorrows and hogging the pool table down at Okeeth’s
Bar and Grill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name really didn’t
fit the establishment as the only food served were burgers and fries, and neither
of these were grilled. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grease looked
like it hadn’t been changed in over five years and the burgers tasted like
baboon shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis knew, that he had
never actually tried eating baboon shit, but, if it had a taste, it probably
had the same texture and smell as the burgers that were served at
Okeeth’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only reason why anyone ate
the food in this dump was to absorb some of the alcohol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Naturally, Sterling was the only one ball shy of
sinking the eight ball, but that</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">didn’t matter to Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He played the game for fun, not for the
competitive thrill</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that surrounded most sporting events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He enjoyed the atmosphere of Okeeth’s.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If they got rid of the pool table and the dart board,
he would still frequent the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bar and would probably have just as much fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just watching the people and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">listening to the gossip was his cup of tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, he sure didn’t come for the baboon ass
burgers!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis vicariously took pleasure from the happier
moments of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the
professional voyeur that bathed in the Fountain of Youth and wrapped himself
inside the invisible force field of laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Watching the drunk</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">men as they patted the bare knees of drunken ladies as
they slowly undressed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">them with their eyes was enough pleasure for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the real game in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">life, the ultimate thrill, and that’s how he met Jill
back in 1999.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was manifest that the concept of marrying for love
had not seeped its way onto the small Province yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The archaic Puritan belief that holy wedlock
precedes love was and still is an absurdity practiced only by hermaphrodites
and color-blind nymphomaniacs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted,
there were probably a few color-blind alcoholics inside Okeeth’s in 1999 and
perhaps a handful of homosexuals at the far end of the bar, but they weren’t
looking for love, not this evening.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">To Travis, Canada was like a California sushi roll,
tightly wrapped inside a thin gritty sheet of seaweed, and garnished with
shredded ginger root and green wasabi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wolfing down the raw materials with the speed and grace of a dedicated
samurai, the Japanese tycoons would gulp down hot sake and poison the liver;
the government. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis wasn’t fond of the Japanese, but if it had not
been for an incident back in 1999, he would never have met Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all started one night, mid-August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis came upon a couple of men dumping
toxic waste over the side of a garbage barge that was heading for the landfill
in Newfoundland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking that the fog
would hide their actions, the immoral polluters tossed ten open barrels of
toxins into the nebulous St. Lawrence River, quite aware of the consequences it
would have upon the marine life ecology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They would have dumped the other fifty or, so barrels had it not been
for the drunkard spilling his putrescent vomit into a cardboard box on a nearby
pier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The alcoholic was none other than
Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Having witnessed firsthand the selfish disrespect for
the environment, Travis angrily waited for the barge to dock for the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At around 10:00, the garbage
vessel maneuvered itself within three feet of the pier and dropped anchor for
the night and waited to unload the other barrels into the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the putrid stench of fecal matter and
decomposing carrion nauseated Travis, he suppressed the urge to puke and jumped
aboard the ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two smaller Japanese
men, taken by surprise, and the ire that flowed through their attacker, were no
challenge for Travis Owen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All in all,
four major bones were broken, six ribs smashed, three black eyes, and one minor
concussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis came out of the
scuffle with a fractured wrist.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sadly, politics and justice were simply incompatible
in a capitalistic society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the
Japanese seamen that Travis had roughed up was a nephew of Satsumo, a big
investor who raped the Canadian land of precious lumber and other raw
materials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charges were quickly brought
against Travis and before the bruises had even begun to heal, he was sentenced
to ten days behind bars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even Robert
couldn’t help him here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of
receiving a medal, he was given the royal shaft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By defending his country, Travis was branded
an extremist and a villain for assaulting two innocent bystanders who
mistakenly drained ten drums of Biofane into the St. Lawrence waterway.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The botulinum toxin was a synthetic drug that mimicked
botulism poisoning by affecting the neurological system upon animals and in
very rare cases, a form of elephantiasis of the major organs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Essentially the animal would either suffocate
internally from muscle paralysis or die a most horrific death by severe toxic
shock syndrome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the organs were
prone to grow at a phenomenally fast rate, they outgrew their space in a matter
of just a few weeks, assuming they were able to survive the bacterium
clostridium spores that attached themselves onto their living organs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Biofane was neither rare or even unique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just strange that someone would have
such a large quantity of this outdated botulinum toxin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, the government was well versed on
the effects of Biofane as it was tested during the Vietnam War on the North
Vietnamese troops in 1971 and upon the villagers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why someone would willingly want to kill off
the larger sea creatures with high doses of Biofane was to be kept a national
secret.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And how some group or company
was able to purchase this deadly toxin from The United States government was
indeed a perplexing question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is
assuming it was purchased, for the alternative was far more alarming.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis served the ten days in a cold cell block; a
drafty attic that housed the undesirables of society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During his brief incarceration, Robert
stopped by every day to bring him the daily paper and to deliver his mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although his body was imprisoned, his mind
was unconfined and eager to join humanity.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Upon his release from prison, Travis and Robert hit
almost every bar on the east coast of the island in one night until they
finally ended up at Okeeth’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
around 4:00 o’clock in the morning, Travis was rushed to the emergency room for
alcohol poisoning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was how he met
Jill, she was the doctor on call that morning.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Morning sailor boy, how are we today?” questioned Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It seems that you and your friend tried to
drink the island dry last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
nearly broke your skull on the pool table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I stitched you up, gave you ten stitches behind your right ear.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her demeanor was perky and optimistic, rather
peculiar for someone at work at 4:00 in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, it was a refreshing
characteristic that Travis admired.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although the thought of responding nauseated him,
Travis felt the compelling urge to offer a feeble reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the fuck, of my fucking head.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He placed his hands over his ears to feel for
the stitches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure enough, she had given
him a few stitches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“God, I wish I were
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, where is that asshole friend
of mine, Robert?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Dr. Jill Koty moved to the other side of the
examination table to get a closer look at her self-destructive patient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t move a muscle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reminded her of a baby Labrador Retriever
with his floppy ears, soft watery green eyes and a naïve innocence that all
babies are born with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t see a
man upon the table, rather a timid boy in his mid-thirties in need of some
guidance and direction in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re
in the city morgue,” smiled Jill.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis dropped his numb legs over the edge of the
metal table and forced himself up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
head throbbed, and his gut ached for relief, but that would take hours, and
perhaps days to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smacked his dry
mouth open and tasted the vile remnants of soured food clumps under his swollen
tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Funny, I don’t feel dead,” groaned
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can I have some aspirin, please?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You were almost legally dead,” said Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Had it not been for your partner, you
probably would have drunk yourself to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fortunately for you, your friend had the good sense to call an ambulance
after you fell and cracked your head on the pool table.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turned towards the cabinet, opened a
bottle of aspirin and extracted two tablets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jill filled a glass with water from the tap and handed the aspirin and
water to Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He plucked the tablets one at a time from her open
hand and threw them into his open mouth and swallowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks, I don’t need the water.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis attempted a genuine smile but fell
short of a scowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bitter taste of
aspirin lingered in his esophagus, and he wished he hadn’t refused the water.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You know, death isn’t a pretty picture,” snapped
Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Life is a once in a lifetime gift
that we need to take advantage of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
think about it for a second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For over
four and a half billion years you were nothing, not even a speck of dirt in the
universe and one day, you’re born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s a pretty amazing feat and after you’re gone, you’ll never ever
get to come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wake up and smell the
coffee.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis wasn’t sympathetic to her eulogy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was taunting her, baiting her to keep the
conversation going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he wouldn’t
admit it to himself, her soothing voice assuaged his pounding temples and the
acrid liquids that sloshed about in his stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Then why do we all die?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The question isn’t why, but when?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jill stared straight into his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If the dead victims of alcohol abuse could
speak, don’t you think that they would ask for more time, ask for another
chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, you sit there all smug,
pissed off at the world for some reason, just looking to die.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped for a moment and placed the full
glass of water into the sink.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was too afraid of pissing her off and ending the whole conversation.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She placed her hand upon his knee as he sat motionless
on the table and continued her lecture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Do you really want to die without experiencing life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was not expecting a response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“No, of course not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What, do you
like the thought of rotting in the earth while maggots and bugs of every size
and shape parade about inside your colon?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I thought I would just be cremated,” he replied
sarcastically.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You don’t get the point, do you?” exclaimed
Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dying is not the solution to your
problems, it’s the end!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok, ok, yes I get your point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You win.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He took a good look at the young doctor, finally seeing her for the
first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her long golden-brown hair,
milky brown eyes, her small face with a sultry mouth and high cheek bones that
accentuated her perfectly shaped nose made her something good to look at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though she only stood five feet six and
weighed no more than one hundred and ten pounds, her physical beauty and
elegance was that of a super model.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
could picture her strolling down the cat walk in a black Perry Ellis designer
dress giving life and eroticism to these expensive garments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Photographers would be snapping their
shutters and buyers would be filling out purchasing orders as she strut her
body up and down the elevated platform.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Jill was a ten, way out of his league.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He had often seen billboard ads displaying fine
liquors with streams of beautiful women, scantily clad in lingerie toasting in
the Near Year, but he never expected to come face to face with the real
McCoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had that drop everything and
look at me look, and Travis was under her power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The image of XO Brandy sleeping in a crystal
goblet flashed to mind when he looked at this creature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only problem and it wasn’t really a
problem was the idea that he was fantasizing about this doctor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What are you staring at?” asked Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled as though she knew what he was
thinking.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Caught off guard, he tried vainly to lob the ball back
into her court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, I’m sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just that, well you know how it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I was expecting some balding doctor
with goat breath telling me….”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A quick rap upon the door saved Travis from further
embarrassment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For once, his interruption was welcomed.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey dude, ya mind if I come in for a sec, eh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, nice bump on the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head wide
open last night.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Without waiting for an invitation, the clodhopper
darted into the room carrying a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a pizza
box in the other from Papa Johns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lieutenant Sterling was a good-looking man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His boyish face and husky frame only added to
his irresistibility with the younger sorority ladies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis could only guess what reaction Jill
would have towards Robert and his sophomoric charm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most folks accepted his bizarre sense of
humor and just chalked it up to immaturity, and the rest just thought he was a
fucking asshole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis could really
give a shit as to what people thought of Robert, he just prayed to God that his
actions wouldn’t offend Jill.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where did you get the flowers?” asked Travis. “I hope
you didn’t spend a ton of money on my account.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Didn’t spend a dime,” replied Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Some old babe sleeping in a wheel chair in
the hallway was clutching the vase in her arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She didn’t even stir or flinch when I started removing them one by one
from her vase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, who is the babe in
the white coat?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis turned his head and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks shit for brains!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is Dr. Koty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can introduce yourself now that you’ve made
a fucking jerk of yourself.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, you swiped some flowers from a dying woman, nice
touch,” smiled Jill.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, ah,” he was taken off guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert’s vain attempt to apologize fell upon
deaf ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was embarrassed, not for
committing the act, rather for getting caught.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He motioned to Jill, “Here, do you think she wants them back?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Jill shot a smile to Robert and laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m just kidding.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a sensual giggle, a melodious flow of
genuine emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was awed by the
eerie control it had over his mind, like the alluring appeal the Sirens held
over Homer. “Hey, cheer up that sour puss on your face, boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What, yah can dish it out, but you can’t take
it, huh?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">There was no doubt about it, Travis liked this
lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not your run-of-the- mill
stuck up bitch, that was for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
more she talked and rustled her body in those tight fitted jeans, the more he
wanted her.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” interrupted Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m trying to communicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That little bruise on your head must be
affecting your hearing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lady said
that you could leave, at least that’s what I got from the conversation, though
she didn’t exactly say it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s get the
hell out of here before she finds something seriously wrong with you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pointed towards the exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, come on!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No telling how many people with the clap have
sat upon that table before you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert
handed the cold pizza box to Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Here, this is for you.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“She took the box from Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks,” smiled Dr. Koty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Listen, if you ever need any help, here’s my
card.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis reached out and grabbed it from Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You need to get a handle on that drinking problem
before it kills you.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She glared at
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can call me anytime.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He was shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Could this lady be flirting with him or had he misread her intentions?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis kept his eyes upon the white tile
floor and fumbled with the card.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much to
his own surprise he blurted out, “Won’t your husband mind some stranger calling
your house?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Not married,” responded Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And besides, that’s not my home number on
the card.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She leaned her buttocks
against the cold metal table and grinned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I’m in the phone book if you want my home number.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A devilish smile broadened across his Cheshire
face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though Moses parted the seas and
destroyed the pursuing Egyptian army, he never gloated in his victory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had Travis been in his place, he probably
would have ripped down his loin cloth, turned around and mooned Egypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cat was out of the bag and he knew the
ball was in his court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis ran his
burly hand through his baby soft brown hair, partly to get a better look at the
doctor, and partly out of necessity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even though his bloodshot green eyes were half shut from lack of sleep,
they seemed to sparkle to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
broad Scottish face in need of a good shave, belonged in a cologne advertisement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite his sloppy appearance, he made the
muscles in Jill’s body ache with anticipation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Then, I will call,” smirked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good,” replied Jill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You may be a bit on the slow side, but, who knows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Call me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She smiled and smacked the top of the pizza box with her left hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, get out of here.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jill didn’t have to wait long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, that very night at around 8:00, Koty
received her first of many calls from Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The following Saturday night, Jill and Travis lay naked together in her
spacious waterbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fire sparkled and
snapped as it chewed the dead wood to gray embers and threw shadows about the
walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flames licked the boards as
monsters of the fire took shape and danced to the Baroque tunes upon her Sony
stereo system.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Pachelbel lured the most intimate of shapes
intertwining body parts and suggestive sexual innuendoes to dance the forbidden
Lambada on her barren walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked
much like a Roman orgy, an expression of wicked desire hidden by the day,
awakened by the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All inhibitions
were cast aside as the music controlled the speed and tempo, the passion and the
intensity of both fires burning hot into the cold night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That evening, Lancelot found the Holy Grail,
and Travis touched serenity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In just a
few hours he was to learn the true meaning of life, and he was happy, for his
happiness came from deep within.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />
His train of thought derailed again when the bright lights of an oncoming car
hit his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not uncommon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For safety reasons, everyone on the island
drove with their headlight on regardless of it being day or night.</span></b><br />
<br />
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">CHAPTER 4</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was August 2016 at Okeeths Bar, August 2016, two
and a half years since the death of his wife and son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis and Robert were busy at the bar
slamming down some cold beers and watching the ladies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">From the corner of his eye, Travis caught a glimpse of
two men kissing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">struck him as peculiar that these two men had no
inhibition about showing</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sexual advances in such a red necked
establishment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, he wasn’t there to
judge</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or be the jury, he was there to drink, to play and to
unwind before going home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Around
midnight, a fist fight broke out near the men’s toilet and ended their fun for
the evening.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Guess you better go over there and break it up,
Lieutenant Sterling.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although he wasn’t on duty, Robert knew what he had to
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabbed for</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the beer mug on the end of the pool table and quickly
gulped the Canadian larger </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">down in one swift motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gut-wrenching burp, like that of a weary</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">camel complaining of thirst, forced its way up his
esophagus and expelled from</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his open orifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On a burping scale, it rated a good eight or a weak</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nine.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Hoping to get a chuckle from one of the college girls
who patronized Okeeth’s,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert yelled, “Excuse me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made damn sure that anyone within ear shot</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">noticed him.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And having said that, Robert lifted one leg into the
air, like a dog ready to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">do business on a tree, and proceeded to give off a low
pitch straight from the large</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">intestine, fart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On a scale of one to ten on how to impress women, a liberal</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">feminist would have to give him a zero.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, what a disgusting pig,” uttered one of the girls.
“Your parents must be so proud of you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She gave him a scowl that could turn any dick limp in five seconds.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lieutenant Sterling didn’t respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were plenty more fish in the sea,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and unquestionably better-looking girls that had a
better sense of humor.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert just couldn’t understand why girls constantly
put on such false </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pretenses and acted like dainty debutantes when they
had the same exact bodily</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">functions as men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps they didn’t divulge the fact that they had to burp or</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fart, they chose to quietly secrete unwanted gas after
they got married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">forbid someone should hear the Queen of England rip a
deep baritone fart in front of some dignitary, while making a speech. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert could just imagine the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">headlines: QUEEN GIVES ROYAL SIGN OF APPROVAL, or
ROYAL GAS</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">LEAK.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Hell, some of the most influential people in the world
farted, picked their noses,</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">burped, and masturbated every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The late great Pope, John Paul with his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">expensive appetite and his love of garlic probably
left patches in his drawers,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">rather than the customary racing streaks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To accept his title, to wear the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">most holy of rings, he had to be considered a great
man of the cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what about a
saint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had to do some sort of
miracle to be elevated to this position. What miracle did the average saint
accomplish? Not vomiting in public upon seeing all the dying children in
Somalia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Conceivably his actions might be regarded as vulgar by
the public,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and perhaps it should only be practiced behind closed
doors, but Robert</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All those politicians, and Canadian actors like Jim Carrey and William
Shatner, together with the rich and famous were just ordinary individuals
without protective shields, money!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
once he would love to see Justin Trudeau yank out a green slimy bugger from
deep inside his nasal cavity and smear it upon a Senate Bill</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">awaiting approval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not only would it demonstrate his absolute</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">disapproval of their proposal, but it would show the
ordinary side of this man.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Though clothed in the finest suits, served the best
gourmet meals, pampered by</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">expensive hair stylists, and altogether treated like
demigods, Trudeau, Celine Dion, Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Bush, and even Elvis
were just typical people with skeletons in their closets.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And what of Elvis Presley, was he not a glutinous pig
who supposedly committed suicide at the age of forty-two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a known fact that the King of Rock and
Roll<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">died upon the porcelain throne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, in all the reports, the cause of death
was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">listed as cardiac arrest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if these girls or any woman for that
matter, could</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">picture Celine Dion digging for gold, or Mel Gibson
playing with himself, would</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">they still have the same respect and admiration for
them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert swore to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">himself that when he found a girl who acted just like
him, he would drop to his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">knees and propose to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, these two college girls were not
worth the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">effort of trying to establish a friendly rapport or a
warm bedside screw!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert brushed past the two ladies standing by the
pool table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well excuse</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">me fine gargoyles,” he muttered under his breath.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Jerk,” replied one of the girls.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He authoritatively sauntered his way to the scuffle at
the end of the bar and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">barked, “Excuse me, break away boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to head on home!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert looked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">back towards the pool table, but the girls had already
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just wished he </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">could have gotten in the last word.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A crowd of ten or more slightly inebriated bystanders
formed a tight huddle</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">around the two fighters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an impenetrable circle and these
vultures were</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">protecting the rotten carrion in the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They chanted loud slogans and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">howled like wolves after a fresh kill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blood was what they wanted to see, the red</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lubricant that pumped life through narrow veins and
drove sharks into feeding</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">frenzies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
of the lads hollered, “Kick the shit out of the fag, eh!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert drove his body through the tightly woven crowd
of onlookers and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">proceeded to crash his empty mug over the head of the
large lumberjack who was</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">busy kicking the injured fetus curled up on the
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ravenous vampires</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">watched in slow motion as the glass mug burst into
tiny fragments and plunged</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to the floor with segments of ripped scalp and
droplets of blood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They licked </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">their desirous lips and circled their ivory fangs like
erections with parched</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tongues as life surged into their incisors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The piquant scent of blood titillated </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the spongy tissue in the nasal cavity and teased the
voracious spectators as they</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">anxiously awaited more blood to spout from the open
wound.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The hefty bearded gentleman, who was a dead ringer for
Kenny Rogers, </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">grabbed his aching skull with both hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“OUCH!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Shit, my fucking head!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The crowd, having seen enough bloodshed for the evening,
stepped back as</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the lumberjack fell to his knees, clutching his head
in his calloused hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">moaned and grunted some gibberish as he thrashed about
upon the dirty wooden</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">floor, tearing a hole in his red shirt from a
protruding nail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yah God damn son</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of a bitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why
the fuck did yah go and do that for?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis walked over to the crowd and said, “Hey, good
job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your diplomacy was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">admirable!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
slapped Robert on the back.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep, and look here,” said Robert, “Only one broken
mug in the whole</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not an
easy task, if I do say so myself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was proud of himself.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yo,” bellowed the short fat nosed bartender from
behind the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mind getting those two ladies off the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve got an image to keep and I don’t</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">need any bad publicity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yah get my meaning.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis took a long swig from his half empty glass and
turned towards the bartender.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shit, any publicity would be good for this shit hole.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, if it’s all the same to you, and your friend
being the local authority and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">all just get rid of both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And tell that fag to kindly keep his puckered
ass out of my bar.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He puffed on his
cigar and blew the thick black smoke into Travis’</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If ever
he felt the need to ram a burning log down someone’s throat, it</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was then and there.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The fat little bartender never knew how close he had
come to needing plastic</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although it was his place of business and he undoubtedly had to tolerate
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">raucous arguments and disorderly conduct, he needed to
be more humane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was a bar, not a church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People thronged to these dimly lit shacks to
vent built</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">up frustrations, to relieve tensions and most
importantly, to have fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If this</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fat bartender couldn’t understand his line of
business, then </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">perhaps he shouldn’t be in the bar industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, Travis still had the urge to
slam his knuckles into those fat cheeks to teach the old grump a lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he preached peace, he wished he could have decked the
son of a bitch!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sterling knelt and tapped the young man on the
shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he couldn’t see his face, Robert could swear that he
had met this person before.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Something about his body position and smell were
vaguely familiar, but he just</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">couldn’t remember where and when they had met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yo, can you get up by</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">yourself?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was always sympathetic towards the underdog.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The man with his bloody face rolled over onto his back
and starred into Robert’s shocked face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now he knew why the shape of his body was familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Christ,” yelled Lieutenant Sterling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Roger, what in the fuck is this all about?”</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Damn, do you need to see a doctor?” Travis
asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He called towards the
bartender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, let me use your phone,”
he demanded.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Just get his fairy ass out of my bar,” replied the
bartender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Use your own fucking cell
phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you think I am, a fucking
operator?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">This was gasoline to the fire!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert jumped to his feet and kicked the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">lumberjack in the ass with all his might.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Kick my fucking brother will you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">landed five or six good kicks before Travis pulled him
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any kick boxer from</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Thailand would have been in awe as to the ferocity and
speedy delivery of </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert’s foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He tried in vain to connect his steel boot to the plump belly of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the unconscious monster before Travis managed to push
Roger and Robert out of the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both
brothers stumbled to the car without saying a word to one another.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three of them drove home in silence, no music
blaring on the radio,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">no laughing, and no uncontrollable burps from the
peanut gallery tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a silent time, a time to reflect upon the evening
occurrences and a time to think</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">about dealing with this situation in the morning over
a cup of hot coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis glanced up
from the road and looked at Roger in the rearview mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roger <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stared back at him full of fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although Robert deep down knew that Roger was a
homosexual, he was a shocked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nevertheless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He just couldn’t shake the nausea, the twisted burning sensation </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in his stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Robert fought the urge to break the silence with some smart</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ass comment or some profound statement that would
dissolve the tension inside</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the Jeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
once, he kept his mouth shut.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">To the unobservant, ever so slight sexual innuendoes
that passed between</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Roger and his male companions went unnoticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few times, Robert had</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">glimpsed, or thought that he had caught sight of his
younger brother brushing the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">buttocks of his school chum in of all places, the
Sterling kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, not</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wanting to admit what he had just seen, Robert pushed
it aside as being a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wild hallucination brought upon by the demons that
lived at the bottom of a Jack</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Daniels’ bottle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, as time passed, and each scene seemed to grow more and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">more intense and passionate between the two, it became
evident that perhaps</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Roger was indeed gay. And, it was up to Roger to tell
the rest of the family, to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">come out of the closet and to live his life.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Thinking back on it, it seemed rather peculiar that
Roger would pull these</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stunts in plain view when he was in the closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe he intentionally </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">forgot to lock the door or perhaps the latch mechanism
had finally worn out.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Whatever the case, Roger was brazen inside the bar,
very out of character.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Unfortunately, Roger would never get the chance to
divulge his secret to the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
would be the last ride that Robert and his younger brother would ever</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">share. At the tender age of twenty-nine, that same
evening, Roger removed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert’s 357 Magnum from its holster, walked
downstairs into the den, and put</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a bullet through his left temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was that quick and that simple.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The funeral was held at Keaton’s Funeral home, down on
East Bay Street in New Bloomfield three days later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not many people attended, just close friends
and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis sat next to Robert
and neither spoke a word through the whole ceremony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the funeral was over, everyone got into
their cars and headed home.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No suicide note, nothing to explain his behavior was
ever found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The survivors</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">were the real victims, the ones who asked why, who
felt guilty for not seeing the signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally,
the family along with many of the local neighbors</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mourned the loss, but none as much as Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was awoken by the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">initial blast that discharged the hollow pointed slug
that bore a tunnel through</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his brother’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was his 357 Magnum that took Roger’s life, and it was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his discovery inside the bar that drove Roger to
suicide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of that he was absolutely</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sure.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If only he had sat down with Roger that night and told
him that he loved him and that he embraced him for being a great little
brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew that it wasn’t a choice
being straight or gay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roger was exactly
who God wanted him to be in life, and that was fine for the Sterling household.
</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sterling blamed himself for Roger’s premature death,
and for that he let self</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pity play its course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He would have to live with the shame and the disdain from</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his own family and from his friends for being at the
bar that night and for not locking away his guns. To survive emotionally, Robert
needed to dig deep inside himself and find the fragile boy from years gone
past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the same lad who walked barefoot
in ankle deep snow, who passed the summer hours skipping stones on the pond
behind the old deserted school house and, it was the same child who was
diagnosed with leukemia at the age of seven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Robert was a survivor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">There was nothing out of the ordinary, at least
nothing upon the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">an open and shut case, and the boys down at
headquarters would see to that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">didn’t want any extra work tossed upon their already
vast pile of unsolved cases.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Besides, the only peculiar circumstance in Roger’s
death was the fact that he was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">right handed and the wound was positioned near the
left temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Preliminary</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">investigations revealed the presence of powder burns
inside the wound and tiny</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fragments of brain tissue upon the knuckles of his
left hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was an easy scenario to read especially for any
intelligent detective.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">much imagination or groundwork went into his
suicide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roger placed the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">revolver to the left hemisphere and pulled the
trigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The powder burns</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">suggested that the muzzle of the 357 was jammed into
his head, undoubtedly a </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nervous reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, the presence of skin tissue upon his knuckles indicated</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that he had in fact pulled the trigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If this were a homicide made to look like a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">suicide, the absence of evenly splattered blood would
strengthen that theory and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">reopen the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, all the key elements were in place and nothing more</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">needed to be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The case was officially closed within three days of his death.</span></b><br />
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">CHAPTER 5</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was late Thursday afternoon, April 2016 when they
reached the destination in Cabot Bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis gave the emergency brake a good yank and turned the car ignition
off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gave a few sputters, as though
it wanted to start up again, and then abruptly died. Perhaps next week when his
secretary returned from vacation, he would have time to take the car down to
the local garage and get it tuned up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“We’re here amigo,” he said.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert rubbed his bare hands together and blew a hot
jet of breath into the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">middle of his open palms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cold blast from the open door sent a
shiver down </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his tensed spine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Christ, it’s nippy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tell yah,
I’ve got goose bumps the size of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">golf balls rubbing up against my hemorrhoids to stay
warm!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What time is it?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis chuckled to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the mist of danger, dangling over a
crocodile pit</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">with hungry cannibals arguing over his various limbs, Robert
would make </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">jest of his situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He always extracted some wise ass comment from his</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">repertoire of vulgar rebuttals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s almost 5:00.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They chatted with one another as they waddled up
towards the palisades in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the freshly fallen snow, making small talk.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Fortunately for them, the six feet of snow below them
had frozen solid, facilitating their trek up the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would take an ice pick and a few hours of
back breaking work to reach the frostbitten grass below this snow crest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life wasn’t easy on the island and Mother
Nature did her damn best to keep it an icebox year-round.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As seasons go, this was considered a modest
year with temperatures dipping as low as minus 30 Celsius.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately for them, the sun had broken
through the clouds and the snow flurries that blanked the frozen tundra were
only ankle deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An octogenarian with a
solid oak cane and a new hip replacement would have no trouble walking in the
snow this day.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They huffed their way up to the rocky cliffs and took
a quick gander at the scene.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Ten feet below them lay the remains of some skinned
harp seals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis shouted to one of the
officers below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was tagging the
remains with a green aerosol can.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The only reason Travis was here was for companionship
and perhaps to lend some theories into the psychology of the killer or
killers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since Travis was a licensed
psychologist, Robert had convinced the city officials that Travis would be
invaluable in helping them solve these killings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And besides, he needed a chauffeur.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, George, what do you make of it?” Travis shouted.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George was an old timer with the police
department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been working</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">as an officer for close to twenty-five years, a few
more years than Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">However, when the promotion came up, Robert was given
the new position as</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lieutenant, overlooking George’s seniority.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though George Davis was just as</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">committed and as diligent a worker, he had a few blemishes
that couldn’t</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">be overlooked or tolerated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George was a boozer and a wife beater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">people go, old man Davis was a decent sort of a
fellow, a bit robust and unrefined,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">but a good man just the same.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis could empathize with George’s drinking problem,
but spouse abuse was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">something he couldn’t stomach, not even from his closest
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like most</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">drunkards on the island, George drank to kill the
boredom of the winter months.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One bottle led to another and before the sun had time
to set, George was already six sheets to the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An argument would inevitably arise, followed
by an exchange of blows, and Betty Davis would cower to the bedroom to lick her
wounds.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Over the past decade, Lieutenant Sterling was called
out to the Davis residence</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">on at least seven different occasions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not surprisingly, no charges were ever</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">brought against the assailant for fear of retribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Betty was no dolt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that the local police force couldn’t offer her adequate
protection from her</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert
tried to coax her into pressing charges, but his pleas fell</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">upon a broken woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just once he wished that Betty would muster up the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">courage to push a steak knife through George’s eardrum
deafening the wrinkled</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">walrus for life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He conjured up other more insidious acts of retribution, but death</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">for this wife abuser was far too lenient.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">With deep wrinkled lines crisscrossing the nape of his
fattened neck and</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">forehead, George epitomized the typical
fisherman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His skin was thick and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">weathered, giving it an aged leathery look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had he been a prisoner of Auschwitz,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the Nazis would have made a car seat cover from his
tanned hide!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Besides his leather skin, the only other identifiable
characteristic was his </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">yellow fishing overalls that he wore under his
standard issue police jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">looked more like Captain Ahab than a police officer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some folks were born with a silver spoon,
George was born with a pair of yellow overalls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pushing the scales at three hundred pounds and in desperate need of some
proper grooming skills, this manatee had two vices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first being alcohol, and the second being
Cuban Cigars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved to gulp down
expensive dark rum while entertaining everyone with boisterous Shakespearean soliloquies,
flapping his burly Popeye arms while chewing into his Cuban Cigars as if it were
a 16-year-old Taiwanese vagina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
hard to believe that an uneducated couth as George could read comic books, let
alone be able to recite Shakespeare from rote memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, he did and more surprisingly, he
delivered it with such intensity that all in the room would listen attentively.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis cupped his hands over his mouth and blew a gush
of hot air into his palms.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Damn, it’s cold this morning,” he said.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Could be worse,” replied Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He studied George as he crouched down over a dead seal and watched as he
turned the half-frozen body onto its back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some blood smeared</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">its way across his clean blue jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George didn’t notice or for that matter,
didn’t</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">care.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bingo,” he shouted to the two of them standing on the
cliff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He plunged his bare</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hands into the slit just below the belly of the
seal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Looks like they got the heart</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and the, ah, let me see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, they got the damn liver also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you make of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">this, doctor?” he asked.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He didn’t bother answering him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To Travis, it looked like George enjoyed this
kind of work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All he could think was
that the person or persons responsible for these senseless killings were either
laughing at their incompetence or were watching them from afar thinking this
was fun.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No doubt about it, George was a unique character, a
bit red necked, a bit</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">eccentric, a bit stupid, and a bit dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the kind of man</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that you would want right beside you in the trenches
especially when the shit</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hit the fan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>George evidently cared little for his own body, and his excessive </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">over eating and his fear of soap and water made him an
easy target, even at a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a lumberjack convention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, why did his reverence for this despicable
act offend Travis so much?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis just
couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone had gotten to George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was just too much crime and death in
his life these days and the sight of George just rubbed him the wrong way this
particular morning.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hey, George,” yelled Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How’s the wife?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert knew just what button to push to infuriate
George Davis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">knew only too well that George’s wife was sleeping
with the seventeen-year-old</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">neighbor from down the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though his wife was nearing forty and
the </span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">aging signs were starting to show, especially around
her waist, she was still</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">considered attractive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No one could understand what she saw in George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">neither remotely handsome nor did he have a good
personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inhabitants speculated that either George was a God in
bed, or that he was to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inherit a fortune from his senile uncle in
Montreal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever attraction that</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George possessed remained unbeknownst to the islanders
and would undoubtedly</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">follow him to his grave.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yah son of a bitch,” roared George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He plunged his nail bitten pudgy fingers back
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">into the belly of the dead seal and removed a handful
of her bloodied small</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">intestines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Holding it up over his head as the blood trickled its way down his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wrist, George shouted, “If I get my damn hands on that
little bastard, I’ll squeeze</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his testicles till they pop in my hands like rotten
goose eggs!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He clamped his hand shut and squeezed the intestines
till they oozed through</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the cracks between his dwarf fingers and flung the
placenta like remains onto</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the white snow.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis turned towards Robert and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Glad to see him taking it so well,” he said
jokingly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You sure have a way with people.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe you should run for Mayor!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hell tried that once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Got my ass kicked by every church going pastor pissing</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">creep from Mexico to the North Pole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next time I decide to run for office, I’ll</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">know who to jerk off and whose nipples to pinch,”
replied Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although the political life held job security, a full
pension upon retirement</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and numerous other enticing fringe benefits, neither Robert
nor he were cut</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">out for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
mayor, the big brass down at headquarters and all the other</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pencil-pushing ass kissers sooner or later sold their
morals and their ethical values</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in exchange for the almighty dollar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it came down to it, the mayor and his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ass-loving followers represented special interest
groups; other political allies,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and close friends and relatives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One thing for sure, old Mayor Jenkins took
care</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of himself first and foremost, the commoners were left
out to dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck that jerk!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert dug his hand into his jacket pocket in search
of a cigarette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">couldn’t control his nicotine urge for more than
fifteen minutes without hitting</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the panic buttons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If there were only two cigarettes left on the planet, Lieutenant</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sterling would steal both!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah, fuck the office job!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert cleared his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yah,
know, this looks familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve seen
this before.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis nodded his head, “Yeah, looks real
familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably one of my patients</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pissed off over my bill,” he said sarcastically.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert smiled and gazed upon the scene below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nah, probably the Japs or that fucking
bastard, Satsumo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of these days I’m
going to catch that sneaky slanted-eyed bastard and nail his ass to the wall.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Probably will,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just hope that I’m there to witness it.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George made his way up the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did someone say something about those</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">yellow fuckers?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sterling pulled out the Bic lighter and drew his thumb
down the cog wheel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sparked to life, but the morning wind instantly killed
the flame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Damn wind,”</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">complained Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He gave it a good shake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“About
empty over here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the chance you have a lighter in your pocket?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was not amused. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go use the lighter in the car.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sterling didn’t need to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">be told twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He turned around and made his way down the hill to the car.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shit,” grumbled George as his foot punched through
the snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let me tell</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">you something about those yellow vermin from the West.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, he had</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">caught wind of the conversation and felt compelled to
throw in his own two cents.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert returned from the car, puffing away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“East, you mean from the East,”</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he replied.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Who gives a rat’s ass if they come from the East or
from the fucking West,”</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bellowed George!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He cleared the phlegm in his cancerous mouth and spat near</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert’s boot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I mean, let’s face it, what’s geography got to do with it </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
good Lords eyes, they ain’t nothing but excrement from a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">baboon’s asshole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, what does it matter if I say that they come from the fucking</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">East, West, or from the fucking center of the earth!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plain truth is that they</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ain’t nothing but shit, pure and simple.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Eloquently said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have you ever considered running for mayor,” laughed </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So,
George, how do you really feel about our neighbors from the East?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you mean, how do I really feel?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George was becoming frustrated by</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert’s antagonistic words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What dolt who walks the Earth on two feet</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">balancing 175 pounds of mass with the aid of ten toes
and wipes his ass with</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">toilet paper doesn’t understand how I feel!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I’m trying to say is that the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fucking Japs did this!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t want to mediate or choose sides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the two wanted to fight so late in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the day, then so be it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That sounds great George, but I really don’t
think it was the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Japs that did this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I would say that it was done by some sick bastard living on the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
question isn’t so much who is responsible, but why they are doing it.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George shook his bulky head and hunched his shoulders
in total defeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yah</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">got me, doctor.” he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yah got me.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">CHAPTER<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>6</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Friday morning arrived quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis turned on the light to his bedroom, </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pulled on some slacks, threw on a sweater and headed
for the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">didn’t really care what he looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter how much he shaved and combed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his hair, he still looked like the ugly bastard in the
mirror from the previous day.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">After brushing his coffee stained teeth and throwing
some cold water onto his face, he toweled off and headed downstairs to make
some coffee.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Just as he reached the downstairs foyer, Travis heard
a car pulling into the driveway. “Hmm,” he thought to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert was running late this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably had too much to drink last night and
ended up in some bed with one of his old girlfriends.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis
turned on the outside light and unlocked the door, expecting his arrival.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">After a quick cup of coffee, Robert and Travis headed
out for their usual morning</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ritual, Starbucks and girl watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They got to Starbucks around 8:30, got some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">coffee, and settled into their usual spot next to the
fireplace. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You got any
plans later today?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nothing much,”
replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve got a few
appointments, but after four o’clock it looks good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What do you have in mind?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“How about going out for a drink or two tonight?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They got some party going </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">on down at the Phi Beta Phi fraternity tonight next to
The Thirsty Clam.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Should be a lot of college girls hanging around
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Easy pickings,” smirked</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Thirsty
Clam?” Travis asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is that down in
New Bloomfield?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yep, I’ll
drive,” replied Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, that sounds great,” Travis replied
sarcastically.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t have much to say this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was hoping that he could get to the office
early and listen to some music before his first appointment, Bob, arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, he needed to catch up on some
paperwork and needed to fill out the state insurance forms since his secretary
was still on vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They drank their
coffee, in silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis finished
first, patted Robert on the back and headed down the street to his office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it was a cold morning, the walk felt
good, and it gave him just enough time to collect his thoughts.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis stopped in the deli near his office to buy a newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since he 20 minutes to spare before his first
patient arrived, he thought he would catch up on the news about the war in the
Middle East.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t support the war,
but he definitely believed that something had to be done about these terrorists
here and abroad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His oldest sister, who
became an American citizen moved to Paris, Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a soldier and on active duty in
Iraq.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They weren’t close and hadn’t seen
or talked with each other in over five years. Nonetheless Travis still worried
about her and the other fighting American and Canadian men and women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps he was just a shitty brother as he
didn’t even attend her wedding and for that matter, he never met and didn’t
know who in the hell she had even got hitched to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only was he a shitty brother, but a
selfish one at that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did he
realize her fate or her predicament. </span></b><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">……..</span></b></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The cold sound of iron rolling the tumblers counter
clock wise roused the grungy</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">hostage from her dead sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The slightest rotation of the key flipped the</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">correct cylinder into place, releasing the bolt from
its rustic captivity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It snapped to </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">life as the cell door swung open.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The naked body, lying face down upon the floor,
covered in filth and stale urine</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">resisted movement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her once beautiful youth, short brown hair, and voluptuous</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">body now gave way to a half-starved soldier with but
one objective, survival!</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It had consumed her mind for the past eight weeks,
every hour, every sunset, and </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">every meal that she could force down her throat
allowed her to stay one more</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">day on earth and one more night inside her cage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forty iron poles, eight feet</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tall and five inches in girth held Captain Samantha
Jones captive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each bar</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was evenly spaced 9.6 inches apart tantalizing the
possibility of escape, yet only</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a child could squeeze through the openings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was trapped, sentenced to life</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">without parole, though innocent of all crimes.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No jury would exonerate her captors, and certainly no
peers could have </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">foreseen the wild behavior of man upon a trapped
animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the spirit of the night,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">free of disguises and false pretenses, naked to the
world, Captain Jones would</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ponder the existence of mankind and religion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To sit in judgment of man and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pass sentence, was this not God’s rightful
domain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if God had indeed</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bestowed this authority upon mortals for some berserk
reason, did he intend for</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">them to abuse it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though she asked thousands of questions, they burned down to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the same conclusion every time: God did not exist or
if he did, he would not have</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">let this happen to Samantha.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Trapped in this prison, somewhere in a bombed-out
building in Iraq for </span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">eight weeks and tortured every day by Al-Qaeda
fanatics, Samantha</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">learned what it must have been like for Travis’s uncle,
who had been a POW in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Vietnam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thousands of American and Canadian soldiers lost their lives fighting</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the spread of Communism in Asia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were the lucky ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They died without</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">knowing the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The survivors were sentenced to walk the earth, not</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">understanding what they fought for, nor were they to
be forgiven for their actions if</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and when they returned home.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">That war was ludicrous, unlike this war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over fifty thousand soldiers had lost </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">their lives fighting for the control of Vietnam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Man had fought for religious</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">freedom, for the honor of a nation, to abolish
slavery, and even for global safety, </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">but never for something as meaningless as that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis’ uncle, Charles Owen, returned to Canada a
changed man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">recite horrid stories of the physical and mental
torture that he had been put</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">through, though no one cared to listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He described in detail how the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Vietcong would beat the prisoners with barb wire and
toss the wounded soldiers</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">into pools of murky water holes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These prisons were nothing but eight feet
deep</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">trenches in the earth covered by bamboo poles wrapped
tightly together to thwart</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaches,
worms, and centipedes would bubble with excitement when fresh blood dripped from
open wounds and they latched themselves onto the host bodies and sucked the men
dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men would scream in pain as these
snail like creatures clung onto the tattered shreds of hanging flesh and chewed
away until they had their fill.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha listened attentively, flabbergasted beyond
belief, yet strangely</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">excited by these dark stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charles would go into intricate detail, </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">describing these shallow holding pits, these watery
graves that were filled with </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fecal matter, drowned rats, and venomous snakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To liven up the morality of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the men, a POW would be removed from the hole,
decapitated, and tossed back </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">down into the filthy cesspool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not uncommon to awaken in the morning</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">with your buddies severed head floating near your
groin area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha now</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">understood why Charles had taken his own life in 2013
after returning home from a fishing trip to Vancouver. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He simply didn’t want to live, and she, more
than any other person on the planet, could sympathize and understand his
private hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Charles, along with many of the other survivors,
suffered from post-traumatic </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stress disorder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A sense of numbness, depression and genuine guilt for their</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">atrocities plagued him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Images of napalm burning the flesh off young
children and their futile attempts to suffocate the flames were almost
comical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They rolled on the ground,
calling for their mothers as they pealed the burning flesh from their arms to
lessen the pain, but to no avail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
survival was bleak, much like Charles’ sanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only half of Charles Owen returned, the other half lay trapped in the
lush green jungles of Vietnam.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha was lured into Charles’ nightmares by the
desire to understand</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">human behavior during captivity in its most primeval
form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt the hunger,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the burning desire of a vampire who hadn’t fed in over
a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The itch to drink</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the salty liquid that pumped through the open veins of
a dying victim tickled every</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">nerve in her body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The need to dig through the dirt, to pry open the rotting</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">coffins, and to fondle the dead bones of tortured
soldiers pacified her dark sadistic </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, the
only way to appease this perverse lust, other than exhuming grave</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">sites was through osmosis. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha saw what Charles had seen, touched
what</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">he had felt, tasted what he had eaten, and heard his
screams of fear through his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Charles Owen needed some venue to release the
emotional pain that gnawed </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">at the base of his spine, and Samantha was the only
one who opened her heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">loved to tell the story about the snakes being dropped
into the pit and this, more</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">than any other story, epitomized the true meaning of
psychological torture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">prisoners, madly clinging to the muddy walls, would
shrill in horror as the worm</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">like demon slithered towards them.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was probably the first realization that he was
about to die at the hands of this</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">venomous reptile, rather than the actual bite, that
caused the soldiers to cry out</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in agony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never
again would his comrade get to see his three children splashing</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">about in the bath tub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their excitement, the laughter, the bubbles, all etched in</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his mind flashed before him as the venom worked its
way quickly throughout</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his blood stream, forcing him to loosen his grip. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could hear the laughter of </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the yellow hyenas above, jabbering away and exchanging
money, as if it were</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a game to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, it finally dawned upon him, as his boyish face and</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">youthful body slipped below the squalid water that
death was not to be feared,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">for life was the real torture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was now free of pain and torment.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha often contemplated suicide, of ending the
suffering, the constant</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">molestation, and most of all, the mortification of
another human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She lay witness</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to the brutal and inhumane murder of the other female
soldier in her cell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">could never forget how the men forcefully stripped,
bound and gagged her and then </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">forced Samantha to watch the brutal decapitation of
her only friend, Private Lauren Hunter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If she could have given up only one of the five senses that day, it
would have been the ability to hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
racking screams of immense pain touched every sensitive nerve in every limb,
every muscle, every hair follicle upon her fatigued body, and yet they continued
until Private Hunter lay headless upon the bloodied floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there were a God in heaven, he had
forsaken her that day.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">For the next couple of days, she vaguely remembered
living, except for the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cold feel of the damp iron bars on her swollen
hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once or twice a day</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the cage door would be opened, and food and water
brought into her cell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">treated her like a dog with scraps of meat, tidbits of
bean curd tofu, rice and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">whatever else they chose to drop into her bowl for
that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally, an </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Al-Qaida guard would toss a few dates or some rotting
fruit into her bowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha was kept
on the verge of starvation every day. Her captors chose to prolong the agony of
life at its most basic of forms by providing her with just enough water to
sustain adequate body fluids, and morsels of fats and amino acids to energize
the heart.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Every other day, like clockwork, someone would open
the door to the </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">upstairs, bring in a hose and wet her down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a chapter from the past</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">chronicles of early treatment of mentally handicapped
patients inside some</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">insane asylum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until Marie Montessori and other enlightened thinkers forever</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">changed these conditions and the treatments for the
mentally disabled, they were </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">left in the hands of masochists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Euthanasia was even considered a humane
remedy</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">for these afflicted people, a not so bizarre phenomena
that many civilized cultures</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">practiced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But,
to place someone inside a cage and blast them with a water hose,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that was asinine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Samantha tried to conceal her nakedness from the hooded</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">terrorists who gawked at her through the cell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some would even shove their hands</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">through the bars to grope a feel of her ivory
flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They couldn’t contain </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">themselves, couldn’t even wait until she was properly
bathed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This perverse</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pleasure they received, though only a quick fondle,
whet their appetite for what was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">soon to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One after another they would lie upon her, grunt
gibberish, pant and howl like humping dogs during anal intercourse, and
ejaculate inside Samantha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t
bother with introductions nor did they bother to place a mattress upon the cold
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a raw, cold and violent
fuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, Samantha tried to
resist, but day after day, she no longer had the strength nor the will to fight
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she resisted, they would hold
her down and like a fine piano tuner, twist her toes until they snapped in
their fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shock wave of pain
traveled from her toe to her </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">mouth in a micro second, causing her to pass out in
shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, it was they</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">who triumphed, so why struggle?</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">After the jackals had their fill, the door to the
outside world would shut,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and once again, she would be all alone in her cage,
her cell for life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weak from</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the cold and drained from her ordeal, Samantha would
curl up like a cat in the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">dry straw at the other end of her cage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She blocked everything out and spent</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the hours looking at the cobwebs high above her
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha studied the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">tiny spiders as they wove their intricate traps, woven
to absolute perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">way, they too were prisoners inside this cell.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha marveled at their ability to sense movement,
be it another spider</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ready to spar for territorial rights, a fly, or an
insect struggling to free himself</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">from the silk bed of death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These insects were trapped, with no hope of
escape, yet</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">they tried in vain to break away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wondered what it must be like for that</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">helpless fly, seeing those hideously ugly spiders with
razor sharp fangs rapidly</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">approaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did the fly scream out in horror and plead for mercy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, what</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">did he say?</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Please, please, don’t hurt me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me go, please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t tell anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">promise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here,
take anything you want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just let me go home!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was ludicrous to even assume that the fly had any
bargaining rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">only valuable possession that he owned was his body,
and that was the only thing</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that the spider needed or wanted.</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha wondered what was going through his mind at
that last moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his tiny heart pound against his hairy chest releasing
millions of endorphins,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">giving him almost human like strength?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what did he see just before his</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inevitable demise; a webbed tunnel of light?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evil, that’s what he saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">creature that stalked the silk web of death,
maneuvering her enormous body on</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">threads with such dainty precision that would make one
of the surviving descendants of The Great Wallendas, cringe with envy, crunched
her giant jaws together as she approached her dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her kaleidoscope eyes focused on the victim
with such intensity, that it left the fly in a state of immobility. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If life were only the struggle to survive, then she
was no more important or</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">significant than the helpless fly in the spider
web.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both she and the fly responded in
the same manner when death was not an option, unconditional acceptance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, Samantha didn’t want to accept death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She needed an alternative, another way to get
even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To die in a stinking country
trying to bring about stability to Iraq like some doomed fly stuck in a web was
an abomination to mankind.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha remembered reading about wolves who would
chew off their own</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">paw when snared in a trap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she were in the same situation, would she
be </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">able to cut off her own limbs to save her life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer she always came</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">up with was, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, this fly, soon to be injected with a solution that would</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">liquefy it from the inside out, did it not feel
pain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his intrepid struggle to free</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">himself, he tore his left wing from his shoulder and
his two legs, entangled in the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">orb detached themselves from his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did he not cry out in pain or pass</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">out from the shock?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe the fear of death and the approaching spider numbed </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">his pain.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If this were the case, then her theory on fear and
pain would undoubtedly win</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">her a nomination for the Nobel Prize in some
category.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear of death was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">more mentally painful than the physical torment that
it brought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Therefore, without fear, pain could be more readily
accepted because in essence,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">we only fear pain, we don’t understand it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once we can fully comprehend</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the unknown, like the early navigators who feared the
uncharted oceans, we</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">are no longer afraid to live in our hostile
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The magnitude of this</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">discovery and the domino effect it would have in the
field of warfare alone was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">enough to dedicate years of selfless research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha speculated that perhaps man could rid himself
of fear, but what </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">about pain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
all practical purposes, pain could be separated into two</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">distinctive categories; mental and physical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was well-known that many</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">individuals had the ability to block out physical
pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Documented studies have</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">proven to the world that some people were able to walk
upon burning coals </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">without incurring any major injuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others can inflict serious</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">cuts without ever dropping one single droplet of
blood; and some have even</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">guzzled ethylene glycol, been bitten by venomous
snakes, and have even driven nails through their palms without any detrimental effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow these unique oddities have been able
to intercept or misdirect the messages sent from the nerve senses to the brain
stem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they could do it, then why
couldn’t everyone?</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The nerve center in every respect, was very similar to
a car engine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The key</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">or stimuli brought about the same reaction every
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, if someone</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wanted to place his hand over a burning match fifty
times in a row, the same</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">reaction would occur all fifty times; the simpleton
would experience </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">excruciating pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The synoptic nerve firing mechanism was nothing more than the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pistons firing in the engine block of an auto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If something were to hinder the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">piston from going up and down, the car would
stall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, if something could</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">block the relaying messages between the neural
transmitters, even for a fraction</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of a second, a mutated code would reach the brain,
rather than the original</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">message.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
ability was within us to control the degree of suffering.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The other form of pain, much like a destructive time
bomb, was mental pain.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Our brain, like a computer chip, stored images,
memories, both good and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">bad, and when retrieved and played back, caused
emotional responses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha applauded the uniqueness and complexity of
the mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the physical</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">pain didn’t kill, then surely the mental pain would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, as she had already</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">figured out, physical pain could be blocked out and
that left humans with only</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the emotional distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could this too be controlled, erased from the
memory</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">banks, and if so, how to go about doing it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could Samantha forget the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">anguish of seeing her comrade, arms flinging wildly in
the air and her body</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">jerking with violent spasms, as the hooded men
decapitated her?</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha had so
many questions muddling about in her cranium that she</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">didn’t hear the men running frantically about above
her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">was happening!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The floor above her rocked with parasitic excitement as men</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">dashed about in various directions, taking orders from
their leader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A heavy</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">wooden crate crashed to the wood floor tossing its
contents everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in authority barked out an order and within seconds,
the mess was given priority</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
distinctive sound of a sharp metal object sliding across the floor was</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">unmistakable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Samantha knew what was happening, and she knew what lay </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">inside the broken crate, a serrated machete! </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Killing was an intricate process in war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sight of blood speckled upon the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">body of an American soldier would awaken the evil in
the most docile of man.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Like hungry piranhas, they would ferociously tear into
their victim, using sharp ivory fangs to rip the tender flesh from the
bones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It mattered little that she was a
magnificent creature that was only doing her job, trying to defend Iraq from
the insurgents who wanted to keep the country in a state of chaos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To these men, she was the mother-load that
miners dreamed about, a 475 million year old intact trilobite fossil that
paleontologists drooled over, and Jessica Simpson and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Madonna rolled into one sushi roll that made desire
burn deep in the heart of</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">a sumo wrestler.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But, to those who loved nature, understood the beauty
and importance in the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">changing ecosystem of life, she was just an
unfortunate victim of circumstance.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">An American captive was the quintessential element of
success to an Al-Qaeda </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">terrorist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was the expensive Russian caviar, a Rolls Royce, a white sable</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">fur coat, a first-class ticket upon the Concord, and
it was the open invitation to</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the Hefner mansion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Terrorists who had the money to burn and the power</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to escape prosecution did so crave the symbol of
capitalism: Samantha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The suffering she would soon have to endure would have
caused the strongest</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">of soldiers to shed tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Genghis Khan, known for his brutality and his
insatiable</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">thirst for blood, would undoubtedly have doffed his
helmet in respect and pity</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">for Samantha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Upon hearing her eerie gut-wrenching cries of pain that could</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">be heard two blocks away by her platoon, Jack the
Ripper would have thrown</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">away his scalpel and turned himself into Scotland
Yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if John Wilkes</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Booth could have seen all the bloodshed that blanketed
the cold cell, he just might</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">have spat on Lincoln’s cheek, rather than blowing off half
his fucking head.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A shriek of robust excitement erupted overhead causing
the hooded terrorists</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">to jump up and down upon the wooden floorboards high
above Samantha’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was like watching a football game in overtime and
the receiver mystifying the</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">coaches, fellow team members, and the spectators, by
lurching into the air and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">catching the ball with just one hand in the end zone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crowd roared,</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">arms flung high into the air, spare tires flopping
like jack hammers digging into</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">concrete, and boobs jostled about clockwise in a
pitiful attempt to spring forth and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">see sunlight.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You fucking sons of bitches,” screamed Samantha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shook the bars until</span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">her hands hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Defeated, she whispered, “I don’t want to die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to die. God, please forgive me
for not returning home!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha began reciting the Lord’s Prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Our Father, who art in Heaven.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Hollowed be thy name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” She didn’t </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">finish before four hooded men walked down the
stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">leader dressed in all black now stood in front of her
cell gripping the serrated </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">machete in his right hand and yelled to his followers
to open the iron cell door. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They rushed in and threw Samantha onto the cold damp
floor and</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">placed the machete against her exposed neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The group began chanting louder </span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">and louder as the leader torn into her skin with the
blade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Samantha tried to</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">kick and scream and plead for mercy, but her attackers
continued sawing through</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">the veins and muscles in her neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was dead.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis never knew what his sister went through, never
had the chance to tell her</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">that he loved her and that he was so proud of
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did she serve her purpose in life?</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">If all lives were somehow interrelated, what was her
role?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, just perhaps</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">she had already served that purpose and God had
forgotten to end her scene</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">in the great performance of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then again, maybe God was not the
producer</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">rather the director of this play.</span></b><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">………….</span></b></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis heard a knocking on the office door and put
down the paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob was one punctual
fellow, that was for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He only
wished that his other clients were as thoughtful as Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good morning,” Travis said as Bob entered the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hope you are doing fine on this cold Friday
morning.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis tried to smile, but Bob
looked like hell. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you don’t mind me
saying, Bob, you look like someone ran you over with a truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you not get enough sleep last night or
did you stay out all night drinking?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I wish that were the case,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nah, I have a slight health issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing worth talking about.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Is it serious?” questioned Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Not really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You might say that things are what they are, and I will get over it, one
way or the other,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">CHAPTER 7</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Murasto Satsumo relaxed into the white leather upholstery
as his limo raced down Interstate 95 towards Portland, Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though it was a long and tedious trek from
the island, it was one that Murasto savored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The driver maneuvered the effulgent bullet pass the big rigs carrying
lumber as they hogged the left lane and antagonized the smaller vehicles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took considerable concentration and dexterity
to avoid the massive giants of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His job and probably his own life depended upon his mastery, his ability
to deliver his occupants on time and in perfect condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This he took seriously.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo was too busy talking with someone on the phone
to notice the driver weaving in and out of lanes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t worried, he trusted his driver with
his own life and the lives of all his friends and their wives. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok Bob,” he grunted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“But if you fuck this up, I will hurt you bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you hear what I am saying?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo didn’t wait for a response before
hanging up the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That guy is a
fucking idiot,” he said out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Fucking guy can’t keep his mouth shut or his stories straight.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo gazed out the dark tinted windows and noticed
an 18-wheeler on the shoulder of the highway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This caught his attention as it bore the Teamster name and
insignia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years ago, when the Teamsters
were young with excitement and ready to tackle the Pinkertons with baseball
bats and splintered planks, then and only then did the union matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were the days when Jimmy Hoffa looked
out for his boys, when vibrant oxygen coated the red blood cells and pumped
hope into their souls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a time
when the American worker knew where he stood in life, a time when families and
organizations took care of each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo laughed to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had
the American dream not been ruined by bureaucratic slime accepting phony
contributions from wealthy individuals and foreign entities, America would
still be a first-rate country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes,
he considered himself a key factor in the displacement of power, yet he was not
the slime.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It amazed Satsumo that the American emblem was that of
a Bald Eagle, a crafty specimen that preyed upon the helpless. With its spiked
beak and razor-sharp talons, this evolved dinosaur soared the clouds, ever ready
to pounce upon smaller creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
prevarication could only exist in a fantasy world where heroes still walked in silence,
and man and ecology lived in a state of harmony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The eagle symbolized purity and strength, two
characteristics that long ago ceased to exist in America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the turkey, as Ben Franklin had
suggested, would have been a more appropriate representation of American pride
and intelligence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was obvious to
Satsumo that this vast open territory with all its immense natural resources
was the prey, and the imperial Japanese were the circling vultures eyeing their
victims from above, ready to strike!</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo, nearing fifty with just a tinge of gray to
show his age, gulped his soda water and crunched an ice cube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He welcomed the icy cubical slowly melting in
his warm mouth, the feel of its smooth body on his coarse tongue as it floated in
a sanctuary of a thick saliva.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When most
vulnerable and completely unaware of impending danger from his yellow stained
incisors, he would crunch into the cube breaking it into tiny fragments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The power to destroy flowed through his 160-pound
body like a bulldozer crashing through a straw house.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo considered himself a Shogun, an effective
master of deceit and deception, capable of controlling his own environment
along with all those near him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He prided
himself in the fact that he would kill anyone that got in his way, no matter
friend or foe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He was by no stretch of the imagination a good-looking
guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, just the opposite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although fit as a fiddle and in overall great
shape, Satsumo was pathetically ugly, even for a wealthy Asian tycoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face was gaunt, and his sharp piercing
nose made him look more like the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes were completely dark, and void of
emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His skin appeared to be in a
constant state of psoriasis with red, itchy scaly patches across his
forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His black greasy hair was just
beginning to show a tinge of gray along with some flakes of dandruff mixed in for
good measure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, if this Asian tycoon
were not filthy rich, he would surely have a struggle attracting any female
upon the planet.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Even though Satsumo was only five feet seven and
weighed 160 pounds, he was formidable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was not uncommon to find him working out between two to three hours
every evening at the local dojo down the street from his office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had studied Shito-ryu, a form of karate,
for the past 15 years and was a well respected and feared competitor both in
and out of the ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo excelled in
Shitro-ryu as it relied on a more upright technique and stressed the importance
of speed and agility rather than brute force.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was a master at avoiding his opponents’ attacks while being able to
deliver punches and kicks that leveled men twice his size and half his age.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Ironically, although half of his upper body was
covered in tattoos of ancient dragons, colorful fish and morbid depictions of samurai
battling to the death, Satsumo was not a member of the Yakuza Gang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of his affiliates and even some members
of his immediate family belonged to the infamous Japanese Mafia. Satsumo, however,
never pledged his allegiance to the Yakuza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He did not want to be owned by anyone and he never allowed anyone to
give him orders.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Beside him, sitting with her head against the opposite
window, was his faithful companion, Meitsu Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though technically not his girlfriend, she
was always beside him attending to his every whim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 20-year-old albino girl behaved and acted
like someone twice her age and this pleased Satsumo immensely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He enjoyed the company of a refined pale
skinned girl with the looks and body of a high school cheerleader.</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu Yuramiti was the daughter of his close friend,
Nuraki Yuramiti, a very wealthy and distinguished businessman from Taito,
Japan, just 25 miles East of Tokyo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo first met Nuraki Yuramiti in 1986 while attending The University
of Tokyo, earning their degrees from the esteemed school of Engineering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were the best of friends and at time,
the worst of enemies, especially when they were drinking or fighting over a
pretty girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This constant bickering and
drunken behavior went on for over 20 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whatever their differences or competitiveness, a good bottle of Sake and
a few, average looking pubescent hookers could repair their loyalty and respect
for one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In just under two decades, Nuraki, with the help of
his close friend, Satsumo had built two highly successful businesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pharmaceutical business, Yuramiti
Enterprises and the high-tech manufacturing company, Baldung, were well
positioned in Tokyo to dominate the world in their respective fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both companies together employed over 8,400
loyal workers and enjoyed high rankings on the Nikkei Index.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti Enterprises was a leader in the
research and development of <span style="color: #383838;">anaerobic bacteria,
which produces botulinum toxin in cosmetics such as Botox.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This poisonous substance targeted wrinkly
skin by essentially stopping and relaxing the muscles in the face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although a poison, in small doses it could
cause muscle paralysis by blocking signals from the acetylcholine molecule. </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #383838;">Yuramiti
Enterprises did not own or develop the toxin, Botox, rather they had
genetically engineered a more resilient strain that lasted longer in the
muscles and fatty tissues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The liquid was closely guarded and only three
people knew the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ingredients and proprietary
techniques that were used in the manufacturing of the formula known as The
Purple Apple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was named The Purple
Apple for its light maroon color and for its pungent odor, like that of a
Granny Smith Apple.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #383838;">Botox therapy
was a thriving industry, especially within the emerging baby boomers and the
upper middle class. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They sucked it down like
it were the cure to aging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
hundreds of small boutiques and Botox-franchised outlets throughout the four
Japanese islands employing thousands of individuals and bringing in over 190
billion Yen per year in gross revenue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Half of the dermatologists and plastic surgeons offered the service to
their customers under the pretense of preventative maintenance, forgetting to
inform the clientele that they were injecting them with the deadly Purple Apple
toxin, a close carbon copy of Botox.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
The Purple Apple had a more sinister ingredient, a more closely guarded
refining process that only Yuramiti and Satsumo knew.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #383838;">But what did
these vain well-heeled snobs really know about the toxin, The Purple Apple, or
any of the other carcinogens that they injected into their lips, chins, eyes,
or even their asses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They only knew and
appreciated the short side effects of these newly-founded drugs and were
willing to spend thousands of dollars every month to look younger and feel
healthier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuramiti Enterprises was
killing the masses and they loved him for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell, if he could synthesize nuclear waste into some form of Cialis or
Viagra and cure erectile dysfunction, there would be a billion men worldwide
popping those pills all day and night. </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #383838;">Although
Yuramiti Enterprises was extremely profitable, it was not Yuramiti’s
passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He favored the high-tech
industry and especially automobiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His prized collection consisted of over 175 antique and high-end
vehicles including 21,1953 mint condition corvettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His collection was so eclectic and desirable
that he had both Jay Leno and Jerry Seinfeld on his speed dial.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He amassed his wealth by producing one of
the many proprietary sensors that were used in the airbags for Takata.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since 1989, almost every new car and truck
sold throughout the world has been required to have at least two airbags per
vehicle, one for the driver and one for the passenger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baldung’s contribution to the reliability and
safety of each airbag deployment was paramount to the success of Takata
Corporation and thus earned him immense wealth and power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With great power came more enemies and with
great wealth came more expensive toys and other outlandish luxuries that only
the extreme privileged could enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
doubt about it, Nuraki Yuramiti was living the high life while drowning in
serious debt.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yes, Yuramiti was a big man in the high-tech
industry, a very successful and powerful man, but he had many bigger enemies
and some closer to him than he could possibly imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While working late one night in September of
2014, someone broke into Yuramiti headquarters and brutally murdered Yuramiti’s
younger brother, Haishi along with his young girlfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were just victims of circumstance who
had the misfortune of being inside the building at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nuraki could never forget or forgive himself for
letting this happen to his younger brother, knowing that he himself was most
likely the intended victim.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Naturally, both the media and Yuramiti
Enterprises had the good sense to omit such morbid information from the
newspapers for fear of offending some fragile reader and spooking the public
into thinking a serial killer was stalking business tycoons in Tokyo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be undignified for the press to
release the fact that the intended victim was still very much alive when the
attacker plunged his metal blade through Haishi Yuramiti’s belly button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also equally inappropriate to divulge
the fact that the killer slipped his hairy fist into the conscious victim and
squeezed his pounding heart until it could no longer beat, throwing the body
into wild convulsions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puddles of salty
tear drops splattered the white marble floor five feet from the door, hair
fibers left inside the sternum and scratch marks upon the bruised heart would
corroborate the assassin’s sadistic technique, and the ultimate cause of
death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was unmistakably the work of
the dreaded Yakuza, collecting on some unpaid tribute.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">This was not a faux pas in judgement, The
Yakuza had deliberately killed Haishi and his girlfriend and staged the event
to warn Yuramiti that he and his family were next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be rest assured, the Yakuza did not make mistakes,
nor work haphazardly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their intention was
to produce the most prolonged torture possible to an individual, and this was
their typical calling card.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">On the lama skin rug, near the solid mahogany
desk, lay the skinned and beheaded body of Jenny Chu, his 21-year-old Chinese
girlfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The head was severed by a
sharp serrated object and now lay atop the desk facing the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was if the killer were directing a movie and
wanted to leave the horrified audience with an impression that they could never
forget, something that would stalk their dreams, and plague them at a
subconscious level. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In addition to that, the body had been
skinned by a professional as it was in one complete body suit heaped over the
brown Italian leather sofa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It once
contained the small shell of a living girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The dead girl now lay, cut from stem to stern, gutted and disemboweled
in a pool of red blood on the mushy stained white shag carpet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The once soft rug tried in earnest to cradle
and comfort the discarded and beheaded body of the late, Jenny Chu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The horror-ridden baby brown eyes told a
story of torment and utter fear, the likes of which nightmares could never
compare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a work of art, though
disgustingly morbid, it presented the epitome of excellence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt about it, the person or persons
responsible were skilled craftsmen in the effectiveness and implementation of
torture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was no random killing, nor
was it the act of a crazed madman doped up on LSD or some other hallucinogenic
drug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much planning and undoubtedly
years of fine tuning his trade on countless victims elevated this killer to the
top of his profession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The head, that lay on the desk was
carefully positioned, eyes left wide open, gawking at all who entered the
office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the coroner’s report that
was released two days later, the police and Yuramiti would learn that the head
had been severed from the body with a hacksaw while Jenny Chu was still
alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Placed in her mouth was a
crumpled piece of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The note read,
“Your brother and his filthy whore are dead because of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Payment is due. $500 million yen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your daughter is next if you do not pay!”</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Nuraki Yuramiti and his family were spared
a most gruesome death by the hands of the Yakuza by simply asking Murasto
Satsumo for his help in this matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although Satsumo was not a gang member, his older brother was a well-respected
and feared member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It simply took a two-minute
phone call to change the course of history for the Yuramiti family.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">However, by asking for his help and his
financial backing, Yuramiti had sold his daughter into a new form of
slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was now the property of
Murasto Satsumo and would be his obedient concubine until the debt was deemed
repaid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, Satsumo would
take over full control of Yuramiti Enterprises and his esteemed friend,
Yuramiti would continue to run the automotive division of Baldung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a no-win solution for Nuraki Yuramiti,
but he basically had no options at this point in his life or career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he hadn’t accepted the tongue of the
snake, his family would have been bitten by a serpent deadlier than the Black
Mamba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti knew only too well the
consequences of his actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By
deliberately rejecting the helping hand of the Yakuza, he had made a terrible
enemy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By refusing to let them whet
their appetite on his Purple Apple empire and blatantly refusing to offer them
protection money, he had sealed his fate as well as that of his family and
friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo gave a short grunt, “Did you not
hear me, Meitsu?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His voice was stern
and commanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get me a drink, now!”</b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">His voice frightened her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sorry, I was not paying attention to your
needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please let me get your water for
you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu knew that she was in
trouble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew by his stare, by his
silence that something was about to happen to her.</b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">As she reached across his body to fetch the
bottle, Satsumo grabbed her right breast and pinched the nipple in a show of
anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu refrained from showing any
discomfort for fear of retaliation from her master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she demonstrated any emotion what-so-ever,
a sob, the glistening tear drop forming upon the lower rim of her red almond
shaped eyes, it would mean almost certain torture.</b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“What do you want me to do, Satsumo?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a humble simple question. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu starred into his cold barren eyes.</b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Though he knew physical abuse was an
ineffective treatment for her stupidity, it gave Satsumo immense
satisfaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He truly received more
pleasure knowing that someone would go to such an enormous effort to conceal
pain, rather than cry out in anguish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo admired her tenacity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had trained her well.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Early in 2011, at the tender age of
thirteen, when Satsumo had first set his gaze upon this stunning oddity, he
knew he wanted her, but more than that, he needed her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t faze him that she was the young
daughter of his close friend, and that he would have to disgrace the Yuramiti
name and destroy their family legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo wanted her at any cost, even it meant killing his own
mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would stop at nothing to
acquire this little albino girl.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To Satsumo, she was a Picasso and he would
could afford this rare artifact, he who had the balls to rip it from the wall
of the Yuramiti household, got what he wanted in life because he didn’t have to
ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the initial unveiling of the
family masterpiece, Satsumo simply set plan number two into action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was second nature to a future tycoon, this
sociopath that had grown up in the streets and been educated in the finest Japanese
university.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Step one, find what you want.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Step two, devise a strategy to acquire it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything had to have a plan, a well thought
out blueprint to insure success.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Most people don’t plan to fail, they simply
fail to plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why an ambitious Japanese
psychopath such as Satsumo would succeed in life, for he had a plan that could
not fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once he set his hooks into
something, Satsumo wouldn’t let go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
would only take him a little over four years to make his dream a reality. </b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In late 2014, Satsumo put his plan into
action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For him to accomplish his task,
he had to pull some strings and grease some palms, and if he had to have a few
folks killed along the way, well that was just the cost of doing business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his best friend in total fear for his
life and owing hundreds of millions of Yen to the Yakuza Gang, Yuramiti was
about to lose all financial backing from the Bank of Kobe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could he pay the extortion money if the
bank would not loan him any more money?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With his public disgrace, and on the verge of losing his financial
backing, Nuraki Yuramiti grabbed for any window ledge on his free fall from the
95<sup>th</sup> floor of the Yuramiti pharmaceutical building in downtown
Tokyo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only open window belonged to
his close friend, Murasto Satsumo.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti never realized that his close
associate and dearest friend had set the dominos falling by forcing the bank to
recall all notes owed to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
only too grateful to accept financial help from Judas, though his dignity and
self-esteem plunged to the pavement that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If in fact the loans had been called in, Yuramiti Enterprises would have
been forced into bankruptcy and thousands of loyal employees would be jobless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though a successful and prominent businessman,
Yuramiti had a genuine concern for the smaller people in his business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These workers were the ones who put in the
overtime, the ones who suffered the physical dangers from the corrosive
chemicals that were used to produce the electronic components in the sensors,
and they were the ones who gave their lives for the benefit of the
company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo, on the other hand, could have
cared less about these grunts of society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To him, the poor deserved their fate in life and if he could cheat them
out of their wages or force them to work overtime without pay, all the
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo was an apathetic businessman
with a rapacious appetite living in a dysfunctional world of greed and power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He prided himself on knowing what he wanted
and how to get it.</b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">By embracing the generous slippery hand of
Satsumo, Yuramiti had essentially been fucked in the ass by his friend, but,
had saved the company from sure bankruptcy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He tried to remind himself every day that he had accepted the help to
save his family and to save his reputation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, as promised, he handed over his teenage daughter to his salivating
friend who would raise and educate her in the lush lands of Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, his conception of education
and Satsumo’s teachings greatly differed.</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti was by no means naïve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deep down he realized Satsumo’s intentions,
but what could he do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than being another
statistic, another story in the Tokyo papers, he chose the road often more
traveled by desperate men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not an
uncommon occurrence in Asia, and in other parts of the world, for families to
sell off a ripe daughter into prostitution to pay off a debt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, many of his close friends had done
the same to preserve their reputation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, had he known that it was Satsumo who had engineered his down fall
just to appropriate his young daughter, he would have chosen suicide rather
than compromise with the devil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The sound of the phone ringing brought
Satsumo back into the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabbed
for the receiver and said, “Yes, Satsumo here.”</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Every word spoken was a hostile grunt that
burst from his diaphragm and broke the tranquility of silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His voice irritated Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his character flaw, one had to wonder
how he ever got anything done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
business arena, negotiating was the corner stone of any solid sale, of any
building ever setting its foundations upon the rich top soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo was not the negotiating type, he was
more a tyrannical dictator with absolutely no warmth and no rational thought
behind his actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t compromise,
nor did he negotiate upon anyone’s terms but his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To solidify any deal, he used the one
weapon that no man feared, Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was both his concubine and the carrot that dangled over his competitor’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If fear and intimidation didn’t work, then
seduction and blackmail would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No man
could resist taking a bite of the forbidden apple, especially a ripe fruit as
tantalizing as this Asian doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
seductive smile, perhaps a slight brush of her perky tits against his arm as
she excused herself from the dinner table would be enough to conjure up erotic
urges for these pedophiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hard
to resist her forward advances under the table as she gingerly placed her
petite hand upon their legs and stroked their inner thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also equally impossible to brush her
little hand aside and say, “no.”</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo knew what she was doing, hell, he
pushed her into doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His albino
doll was hauntingly beautiful with her pitch-black shoulder length hair and red
almond shaped eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a true force
to be reckoned with in the seduction arena despite her extreme pale skin tone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu was small and thin in structure,
barely weighing over 100 pounds soaking wet, but she was tough as nails when it
came to capturing what she wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And,
what she wanted more than anything else was power and freedom over these pompous
bastards sitting at the dinner table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sure, they thought they were controlling this 5-foot 5-inch doll, but
she knew better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“I told you once,” grunted Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t care how much it will cost, you just
do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you can’t do it, I’ll get
someone who can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you understand
me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smacked the receiver upon the
leather console.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though it was obvious
to Meitsu that the stranger on the other line was Japanese, they both chose to
speak in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He clutched the phone tightly to the right
side of his head, almost sucking the devise into his ear canal, like a vacuum
cleaner tangled up in some draperies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cupping his hand over the receiver he looked at Meitsu and said, “Pour
me another drink.”</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo returned his attention to the
caller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, I hear what you are telling
me, but we need more raw materials, and we don't need any more excuses from you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The new shipment went out yesterday.”</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Meitsu handed her master a tall crystal
goblet filled to the brim with scotch and soda and garnished with a small wedge
of lime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took the glass from her and
nodded his approval.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Tomorrow, then.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo took a deep drink, looked at Meitsu
and starred back out the window of his limousine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No, I did not say that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they
need those parts, then they shall have them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Cojo Shan is to be the most respected club before this year is out!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have a lot of money riding on their
success, and I won’t let a few potato farmers fuck it up for me!”</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He put the glass to his mouth and blew into
the crystal apparatus causing a cool breeze to bounce off the melting cubes and
form a thin mist of condensation upon the rim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo’s pointed tongue encircled the droplets of liquid that clung to
the brim of the glass and folded them into his grotesque mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He liked this, the danger of slicing his
tongue on tiny nicks or imperfections in the glass but more than anything, he
loved the flavor and the scent of fine scotch.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Then tomorrow it shall be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll give Katsumara a call tomorrow.”</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He hung up the phone and just sat for a
moment in silence. The comforting sound of the rubber tires rolling effortlessly
upon on the tar induced a trance like state of mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could he live with all the pain, all the
killings and the millions of dollars that he had stolen over the past decades?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would be the lasting effects of these
chemicals on future generations and would he be held responsible in a court of
law?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if he started to develop a conscious
at this point in his life, there was virtually nothing that he could do to
change history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What had already been
set in motion would eventually come to pass, of that he was certain.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And besides, he wasn’t directly responsible
for what the pharmaceutical empire designed, nor was he the catalyst behind
this new improved toxin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The way he saw
it, he was just the middle man in a capitalistic society that valued money and
beauty over lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were the
villains, the money hungry desperados who profited economically in a sick
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were the ones that demanded
perfection, the ones that ultimately decided and even demanded younger looking
faces and thinner bodies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The world was sick, that was evident in the
skies, oceans, in the vegetation, in the animals and especially in the
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, as morbid as it sounded to
Satsumo, humans best survived in this sort of climate, a constant state of
malady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no money in the cure
to aging, only in the treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
egocentric mentality drove the governments of the world, which in turn fueled
the oil industries, and commanded the lesser corporations to sleep with the
enemy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order of importance, the oil
industry was king, closely followed by the automotive conglomerates, then the
tobacco magnates, and finally by the pharmaceutical empires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world survived by feeding the furnace,
causing it to burn brighter, and at the same time, emitting more toxins upon
mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In turn, the pharmaceutical
companies developed temporary solutions to cope with the multitudes of sickened
masses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone made money from this
happy marriage!</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">But things were soon to change and Satsumo
would be there to reap the benefits of this overthrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the middle man could be eliminated in this
circle, then surely the pharmaceutical corporations would be crowned the
reigning kings of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why wait
for disease and infection when it could be created in a matter of months in
some laboratory in Japan or in Prince Edward Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Biofane might have been an ineffective tool
against the Vietnamese and a total waste of taxpayers’ money, but its ability
to spur growth in living tissue and synthesize new proteins, was invaluable in
the wrong hands. </b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo turned his attention back to the
business at hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If everything were to continue
on this course, he would have to succeed in Portland and this would take the
help of his albino doll, Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Take
off your dress,” he said.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Did you not hear me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told you to remove your dress.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He drew his left hand back and smacked Meitsu
across the face with the backside of his fist.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Meitsu did not react as most people would
have in that situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked
straight into his eyes and pushed the string over her shoulder blade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The black silk garment floated down past her right
breast and rested upon her white nipple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With her left hand she proceeded to pull the material over her soft
shoulder and down her biceps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gravity
took over and the dress fell to her pelvic bone revealing her breasts to her
sadistic lover.</b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">She rarely wore a bra as her master enjoyed
her protruding nipples rubbing up against her silky garments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo was especially fond of her silver
dollar light pink areolas, remarkably hard in texture, and yet ever so sensitive
to foreplay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu was a sex kitten, a
Persian feline curled up on a soft red pillow displayed in some exclusive pet
shop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her pedigree papers attested to her untainted
royal lineage all the way back to the Tokugawa period.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This cat merited pampering, plain and simple!</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo turned his lusting gaze towards her
sophomoric breasts and brought his mouth to her right nipple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She leaned forward trying to insert more of
her body into his warm mouth, but he was not interested in sucking the entire
tit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shot his coarse tongue across
her bare nipple stringing a bridge of saliva from her breast to his horny
mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked like a Komado dragon
with all the drool hanging off his face in search of a hungry prey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“The other one too,” she moaned.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Like a humble slave he listened to her whispers
of pleasure and greedily placed the wanton nipple into his waiting
orifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He circled the bud, like he had
circled the crystal goblet only moments before and pinched the rock-hard tissue
between his sharp fangs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu loved
it, loved the pain and the pleasure of knowing what his spiked enamel incisors
could do to her tender flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew
that he wouldn’t bite too hard as he dared not scar the tissue and ruin a
Picasso.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“You’ve been a naughty, boy, and bad boys
need to be spanked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take off your
clothes, now,” she demanded.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">This was a game that she and Satsumo played
repeatedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In business, it was he who
dominated the scene, he who controlled everything, in bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just the opposite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu was both mother and lover to
Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironic as it seemed, men were
reared to conquer and destroy everything and everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But behind closed doors, they were just
sniveling helpless babies in homemade cribs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She loved this time, loved the pleasure that was given to her, but more
than that, she craved the power she had over Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was as vulnerable as an infant, longing to
be cuddled and rocked to sleep, and at other times, he wanted to be beaten
until he cried.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Satsumo quickly disrobed and lay face down
on the leather seat, his smooth buttocks shinning like two moons in April.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew the driver could see him in the
rearview mirror, but this only added to the thrill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also knew his driver would never say
anything to anyone for fear of death.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Meitsu drew her hand up and brought it down
with such force as to sting the backside of a mule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tightened his cheeks readying himself for
the onslaught of quick biting smacks that were soon to hit his flesh, leaving
welts upon his Asian skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With each
blow, she promised to herself that the next would be harder and more painful
than the last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a time when she
could take vengeance upon this vulgar Komodo dragon that had destroyed the
Yuramiti household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She slapped and
slapped his bare ass until he begged for her to stop, but she was indifferent
to his pleas for mercy.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Meitsu was out of control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her once open palms were now clenched fists
beating the backside of her master.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Stop,” he shouted,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Stop it, stop it!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo jerked his body into a sitting
position and threw Meitsu on the seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Evidently the sadistic foreplay had a great effect upon his manhood as
his perpendicular muscle stood a full 5 inches erect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He quickly mounted her tiny white frame and
entered her in the missionary position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With each thrust he tried to touch the furthest reaches of her inner
walls as they clamped down upon his uncircumcised pole and tickled the
underside of his swollen gland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
screamed with gratification as his penis rubbed her walls and brought fire into
her pelvic region.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">They both shook violently in unison as
semen filled his shaft and spurt into her wet vagina filling her small
canal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exhausted and suffering from a
rare genetic ailment known as catalepsy, Satsumo collapsed upon his Asian doll
and quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was back in Hokkaido, Japan mid- summer dreaming of playing Samurai
warrior with all his friends.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">She did not sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu lay back, arms resting upon his firm
torso.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leather was sticky from sweat
as her pathetic master lay upon her chest in a fetal position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t even care that the privacy glass
had been left partially open, giving the driver full view of everything that
had transpired in the back of the limo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Meitsu knew that she detested this man, but
she also realized that she needed him as much as he needed her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He may have been the worst creature placed
upon the earth, but he was a man driven by a passion to leave his mark on the
planet before he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu adored his
defiant attitude and truly respected his dogmatism against people who accepted
mediocre results in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This man was
driven, albeit on a road that most law-abiding men would dare not tread.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Although Meitsu was barely a teenager when
she first started spending time with Satsumo, she was already experienced in
the ways of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbeknownst to
her father, sometimes late at night she would creep out of her bedroom and
enter one of the many guest rooms that housed members of the Shan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her desires were not fueled by some mystical
attraction to obese Sumo wrestlers, she simply enjoyed the thrill of having
close to a ton of flesh lying upon her young body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In Japan, the Sumo wrestler was widely
respected for his ability in the ring and for his overall semblance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His sheer weight and size alone demanded the respect
and admiration of everyone. Their lives were very regimented, almost to the
point of being told what to eat, when to eat, and how to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They gorged upon raw fish organs from Prince
Edward Island, whale blubber, pounds of pork fried in gallons of oil, rice and
other traditional luscious platters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sumo wrestlers were fed five to six times per day, and sometimes even
more especially during tournaments. And when they weren’t eating or fighting,
they were busy sleeping or fucking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
final product, a 750-pound beast capable of delivering a death blow with his
powerful arm was an impressive sight to behold, especially to Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved them like she loved The Beatles,
only difference here was that the wrestlers were within her reach. </b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">At night, Meitsu would slip out of her bed,
tip toe downstairs to the sliding rice paper door of her fortuitous guest,
remove her shoes and silk robe and enter his humble abode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gracious host would only be too willing
to share his mattress with such a young delectable morsel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though young, Meitsu proved her experience
upon the tatami.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her wild animalistic
acts of pleasure caused plump bellies to ripple like waves smacking the
coastline off The Cliffs of Dover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
vanquished contenders would even complain in the early morning that they had
lost too much weight and needed extra rest to regain their strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Her father never knew anything about her
extracurricular activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This sort of
behavior was unimaginable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had he been
abreast of the situation, he probably would have committed seppuku with his
ancestral blade that hung proudly on the den wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuramiti thought the world of his daughter,
his innocent egg who would someday enter womanhood, get married to a prominent
young man, and take her place in society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although she was an albino, an outcast in Japanese society, Yuramiti
could see the abnormal interest men took in her when she accompanied him to his
office buildings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew that she would
have many suitors, would marry well, and would eventually provide him with many
grandsons to take over his empire.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti often talked openly to his wife
about the enigmatic power Meitsu possessed over older gentlemen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lying together in their huge Victorian bed,
eyes drawn to the white propeller blades humming above, he and his wife would
reminisce the events of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
blades in dire need of a good cleaning, circulated the cool air throughout the
entire room, cutting through the dead layer of heat that hung over his
bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow he would give the blades a
good cleaning, at least that’s what he always told himself before falling
asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought of black dust and
soot mixed with cockroach particles and small animal feces dropping upon his
head at night while he slept, gave Yuramiti nightmares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti loved only three things in
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His businesses and their success,
his daughter, and his bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved
the titillation of going off to work in the morning, taking all the calls,
making the deals, and watching the company grow and mature into a billion-dollar
enterprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course, he loved his
innocent child who seemed to attract the attention of everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not live life through his parents, he
borrowed life from his only daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
didn’t faze him that she spent thousands of yen every week upon Mickey Mouse
socks or that she lost her favorite Rolex watch in school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t even mind all her extravagant parties
by the pool during the summer months, nor did he even blink an eye when she
wanted her own private chauffer and cherry red limousine at her beck and
call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Money was replaceable and easy to
obtain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she wanted to spoil herself,
then so be it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last, but not least,
Yuramiti loved his boudoir.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The two essential characteristics of any
successful businessman were the ability to work hard and to play even
harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The daylight hours were
diligently spent crushing competitors and expanding his pharmaceutical empire
by developing new and improved drugs to combat aging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The night was for pure relaxation, a time to
unwind and spend some of his ill gained fortune.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His boudoir epitomized luxury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything was white from the plush wall to
wall carpets, to the lace draperies, to the hand embroidered 500-year-old lamp
shades, to the four wooden posts that held up his 400-pound bed.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Against the far-left wall of the bedroom
stood a 6-foot-tall hand-crafted solid marble wardrobe closet purchased from
Sotheby’s in New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It cost over
$250,000 American dollars at the auction house and probably took close to 10
years of hard labor to craft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only
was it immense, but it was utterly breath taking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so imposing, so heavy with its ivory
knobs and all the intricate decorations etched into the marble that one had to
wonder how they ever got it into the bedroom without having to knock down walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This room was the picture of Japanese heaven,
a cluster of billowing oriental nebula.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Closing their eyes and just using their
finders to gently caress the etchings, Yuramiti would fabricate incredible
tales about each design.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His daughter
listened steadfast, while slowly fondling the indentations, giving pleasure to
all the senses in her finger tips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
especially liked the way the elephant with its large tusks, head bent down as
it drank deep from the water, awoke the most sensitive organs in her
brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could almost envision this
colossal mammal standing upright with his thick hairy skin just inviting
someone or something to challenge his space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With one foot, one nudge of his body, he could cripple his foe, crush
the skull of a man under his padded foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was indeed a vertebrate to be reckoned with, a force that had no
peers, except one; man.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The two spent hours meditating in front of
the giant marble storybook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tiger
walking through the tall grass carrying the cub gently in her mouth was by far
her favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt her mother’s
rough tongue flap the underside of her belly as she trudged through the
underbrush in search of some vulnerable prey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The saliva would drip into the cub’s fur causing it to squirm about as
the sticky liquid made its way down over her ears and down the cheeks of her
face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cub wiggled in vain, but
mother’s prickly blades of enamel nestled her securely in place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the same sensation that Meitsu felt
when her father wrapped his strong arms about her and rocked her to sleep at
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His embrace was a repository of
strength and genuine love between a father and a daughter.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The bedroom held a vital place in Yuramiti’s
stressful life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not so much a
place of blissful orgasms and perverted foreplay that aroused the most savage
of urges even in a eunuch, rather it was simply a place of peace, a temple of
rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Yuramiti’s would cuddle in the
warmth of their enormous king-sized bed and talk the night away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would tell his wife how he would catch
other men in his office gawking at his daughter and he knew she was aware of
what she was doing to these employees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though absurd as it sounded, at times he really did believe that his
daughter wore plaid mini skits that were far too reveling on purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He realized that all the girls her age in
school liked showing skin to attract the boys, but this was getting
ridiculous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One time he caught some of
his male staff ogling her while she bent over to retrieve a notebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those perverts were drooling at the sight of
her white panties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he never
made mention of this to Meitsu, he knew that she would always be an outsider if
she had stayed in Japan.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti had many close friends and though he
and Satsumo frequented the piano bars to drink and socialize, he never thought
of the young girls in any way but hostesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was obvious, more so to the foreign ladies who offered their bodies
and mouths for money, that the Oriental men favored young girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently, the girls would intentionally
wear school uniforms and tie their hair into ponytails to look more appetizing
for the hungry old pedophiles.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yuramiti’s buddies, including Satsumo, at
times, would participate in this frolicsomeness behavior depending on the
alcohol consumption for that evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His friends would binge drink tank loads of alcohol and then set to
fondling the pubescent babies, pinching their maturing breasts and forcing the
girls to sit upon their laps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always
amazed Yuramiti that a society based upon moral upbringing and discipline would
allow themselves to dip into this debauchery, roll around in manure, and
fornicate with their own offspring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
couldn’t even imagine someone taking his young daughter to bed and having their
way with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuramiti would kill the
beast before he would let them even lay one manicured fingernail upon Meitsu’
ivory skin.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He was secure in the knowledge that his
daughter was now spending a good part of her life in Canada, away from this twisted
environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuramiti just hoped to God
that his trusted friend was different from his other associates, and that he
respected their friendship enough to keep his hands off his only daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no reason to think otherwise as he
never even noticed or paid any attention to Meitsu when they all went out to
dinner or when they went on vacations together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Still, the uncertainty of not knowing for sure, caused him to have
second thoughts about his agreement with his partner and friend.</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">CHAPTER 8</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was Sunday morning and Travis was busy cleaning up
the dishes from the previous night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although
he had a working dishwasher, he much preferred to clean everything by
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He haphazardly dunked the plates
under the facet, more to hear the water than to clean the gunk off the dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although his body was physically in the
kitchen, his mind was five thousand miles away and his lack of concentration on
the job at hand was evident to any professional dishwasher. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis glanced at his iPhone to see if he had missed
any late-night calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had trouble
opening the screen as his hands were still wet from washing the dishes, but he
eventually was able to swipe the screen open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“9:50 am,” said Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That was
a good night’s sleep.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He and Bob had a very interesting session the other
day, and Bob asked if he could stop by at 10:30 this morning to discuss
something that he needed to get off his chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Something was bothering him and who knows, perhaps he just wanted to
come clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the past week Bob had
been wasting Travis’ time and blowing a lot of money in the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe everything had been building up to this
point and finally the secrets of the world would be revealed to the almighty
psychiatrist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it was Sunday, Travis
made an exception and agreed to see Bob at his house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was interrupted by the sound of someone
knocking on his front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come on in,
Robert,” he yelled from the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis was by no stretch of the imagination a psychic, he just knew by
the knock on the door and the thunderous force he used to make his presence
known, that it could be only be Robert. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">As Robert entered the kitchen, he opened the upper
cabinet door next to the microwave and grabbed a blue coffee mug without being
giving any direction or invitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
knew that Travis’ house was his house and whatever he had, he was more than
welcome to use, eat, throw away or fuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As usual, Robert was dressed in his uniform, probably slept in it
overnight and forget it was Sunday.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He poured himself some coffee and tossed in four sugar
cubes before taking a seat at the kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, what’s the 911?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis finished drying off the last plate and placed
it on the counter with all the other clean dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without looking at Robert or responding to
his question, he grabbed his coffee with his right hand and sauntered over to
the table and sat across from his best friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He sat there for more than a minute gazing into the
black fluid in his mug, enjoying the fresh scent of good coffee and the brisk
clean air on this sunny day in April of 2018.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis could easily be hypnotized into a false sense of tranquility by
simply swirling his coffee and watching the ripples slosh against the rim of
his mug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To Travis, freshly brewed coffee
was his aphrodisiac and if he could afford to buy Kopi Luwak coffee that came
out of the ass of a Civet Cat from Indonesia, he would gladly give it a try. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In life there were only two distinctive vices that
rich people enjoyed and made known to the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ability to brag about their
accomplishments and the second vice, the courage to attempt crazy feats of
madness. Other sick vises such as pedophilia, or wearing baby diapers and
shitting yourself, or the hankering to stuff your pecker through a glory hole
in some disgusting bathroom inside Walmart were nefarious vices that were to be
kept private among priests and church goers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Of course, there were other vices, but they faded in
comparison to the private vices that the rich and famous could afford to show
to the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that matter, Travis
had an estimated five public vices that he tried to keep completely private to
the rich and poor of the planet, exotic coffee being number one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">How this Indonesian delicacy came to fruition and somehow
landed in the laps of the extreme elite, is to this day mind boggling and
utterly sidesplitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why any normal
person would think of feeding coffee beans to a Palm Civet cat and follow it
around until if defecated and then decide to extract the beans from cat shit
was asinine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to further add humor to
an already crazy idea, grind those beans into coffee and sell it for fifty dollars
per pound. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, talk about a vice!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was true blackmail information that only
a sick comedian could think up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis
could just imagine the hours of time wasted on the extortion letters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, if you knew your neighbor or your boss
was drinking cat shit, no telling what other deprived fantasies were floating
around in the old brain sack!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
pure gold blackmail special ops intel on the coffee drinking simpleton.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But, it was no crazier than those wine connoisseurs,
or a master sommelier that would spend thousands of dollars on a 2010 bottle of
Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac, or for the super-rich that that could
afford to buy a 1992 vintage bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon for a
cool half million dollars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In life,
everyone had a vice or an addiction to something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis was just fortunate that his addiction
to Tim Horton’s ground coffee was affordable and made more sense than drinking
coffee that started in the intestines of the Indonesian Civet Cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The second vice was more about self-glorification and came
with bragging rights. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times, we all
possessed these vices in smaller doses, but some took it to the upper limits of
hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To most people, these acts of lunacy
teetered on the verge of madness.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In Japan there were many people that tempted culinary
suicide by eating the deadly poisonous pufferfish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smallest mistake in the preparation could
result in a most excruciating death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just two paltry milligrams of the neurotoxin, Tetrodotoxin were enough
to restrict the muscle movement that controls the breathing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, for all its side effects, thousands of
people every year gulped down the Fugu fish, praying to their Almighty Savior
that the chef had the knowledge and the years of training to expertly remove
the deadly organs from the fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps
it was just a show of courage among friends, or perhaps the fish was utterly
delicious and that was just enough to push fate.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And yet, there were thrill seekers that pushed it to
the limits by parachuting out of airplanes, or base jumping off tall high-rise
buildings in the middle of the night for the bragging rights that they survived
the fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This sort of braggadocio killed and was far
more dangerous than the first vice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell, why not play a game of Russian roulette with six people and six
bullets inside the chamber?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was not
a vice, it was a death wish!</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, did you
hear what I just said,” asked Robert?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You look like you’ve been daydreaming about some hermaphrodite with a
huge cock and tiny furry balls!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just looked up from his coffee mug and smiled
at Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Damn, that asshole had a joke
for every occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, I heard you,”
replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I asked you over because Bob is stopping by at 10:30
this morning and I wanted you to hear what he had to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe you can dig through all his bullshit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Just as he was finishing his last statement, someone
rang the doorbell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Bob, and he
was early.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was rather odd as Bob
was always extremely punctual, never too late and certainly never too early for
any of his appointments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis walked
out of the kitchen to answer the front door as Robert relaxed in his seat. At
first glance, standing in the doorway of his home, Bob looked more like a
zombie character on The Walking Dead show, minus the missing appendages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was extremely pale with dark black eyelids
like he hadn’t slept in two days and his smile had vanished from his usual
joyful demeanor. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">In less than a minute, both men appeared in the
kitchen as Travis made the introductions and motioned to Bob to take a seat at
the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert and Bob shook hands.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good to meet you, Bob,” said Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can I get you some home brewed Tim Horton’s
coffee?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob shook his head and took the open chair next to
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had my fill at breakfast this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could go for a glass of water, if that’s
not too much trouble,” said Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis walked over to the sink, took out a clean glass
from the cabinet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you want any ice
in this Bob?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good old
Prince Edward Island tap water is fine with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know, it amazes me how much we spend every year on bottled water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems like everyone is dehydrated on the
planet carrying around a plastic bottle like it’s a baby pacifier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I grew up drinking out of the toilet,
no joke” replied Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis handed him the glass and sat down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I remember when we were young, Robert and I
would drink straight from the local ponds and lakes on the Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t worry about diseases or impurities
in the water, Hell we just drank it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, as far as drinking straight out of the toilet, that’s just fucked
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You, Bob, are one sick bastard,”
joked Travis. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob just nodded his head in agreement and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve been called a lot worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shit, the crap that I pulled when I was a kid
would have sent me to jail or at least had my head examined.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob took a long sip from his glass and placed
it directly in front of him on the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He glanced to Robert in his slightly bedraggled police uniform and then
shifted his gaze upon Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, I
guess you are wondering why I wanted to meet with you today before I head back
to the states tomorrow evening.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
more of a statement than a question.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, what’s on your mind, Bob?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob unzipped his North Face jacket with his right hand
and proceeded to pull out what looked like a small package that a butcher would
give you and placed it on the kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was in the same kind of wrapper, a brownish wax paper, but this was
not from any local butcher shop on the Island.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, what did you bring us, Bob? asked Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
hope your brought us some good steaks for grilling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could eat a polar bear today.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob didn’t respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His expression was deadpan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
bit his lower lip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He needed a moment to
collect his thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at the
package on the table, folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three wise kings all sitting at the kitchen table,
each bearing gifts for the new born king just starred with blank expressions at
the package for almost one silent moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone knew about gold, and certainly most people in that time used
frankincense, but who in their right mind would bring myrrh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, back in biblical times, myrrh oil
sprinkled over hot coals was used as aromatherapy treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also used as a spice and a natural
remedy to purify the dead and even today it’s used for its antioxidant
properties in the treatment of cancer. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It was kind of strange when you really thought about
it and the myth about The Three Wise Men bringing gifts to a newborn baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the first place, why did all three Kings
bring completely different gifts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did
they call each other before they departed that evening to figure out what to
wear and what each other was bringing to the show?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were Joseph and Mary, wouldn’t you
have preferred that all three kings just brought gold?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With gold, they could have purchased anything
they wanted or needed like a nice room at the local hotel instead of camping
out in a barn with all the cow and goat shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No, instead the two cheapskates decided to chintz out and bring
frankincense and myrrh to the party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They probably pilfered the gifts from their own households, wrapped them
in cloth and tried to pass the slightly burned frankincense off as a newly purchased
gift on their way to Bethlehem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Secondly, why were three strange men showing up late
at night in satanic robes wanting to check out little boys under a star?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, pedophilia was rampant in the
church and there were plenty of innocent kids to molest in Jerusalem, so why
venture 8 miles South to Bethlehem?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps the old saying, “What happens in Bethlehem stays in Bethlehem,”
was the right tag in 4 BC.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And lastly, what quantity of gold, frankincense and
myrrh was socially acceptable to give to the Lord and Savior of all
mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was there a list on The Wailing Wall in Jerusalem
that stated how much gold you should give to a close friend, or a relative, or
someone that you just met at a Bris Ceremony?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was it socially inappropriate to show up with too little of a gift and
have egg in your face?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would there not
be some sort of competition among the Three Wise Men as to who brought the best
gift to the party?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly, the king
with the gold was the hit of the evening while the other molesters were the
brunt of many a joke at temple.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The myth of Jesus was all fine and dandy for Travis,
but he knew that this package didn’t contain myrrh, so what hidden secret was
scrupulously wrapped neatly inside the wax paper coffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, Bob,” said Travis, “do you want to tell us what
is inside the package and why it was so important that you come over here today?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, let me begin by telling you a little story
first that starts in Tokyo and ends in Prince Edward Island,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do either of you know anything about Sumo
Wrestling?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert chimed in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Yeah, you mean those fat fuckers that wear diapers and slap each other
across the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen it on TV
although, I just don’t get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean,
why would anyone want to get that fat and parade around in a diaper with their
balls hanging out?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob didn’t bother responding back to Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that he didn’t want to, he just wanted to
continue his story and without interference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a complicated tale and only Bob knew where it would end and how
it would forever affect the lives of everyone on the island, especially Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“There is a lot of respect and a lot of money involved
in the Japanese sport, and The Japanese Sumo Association watches over it like
it was the blood of Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck,
this religious sport has been around for over 1,500 years and still growing stronger
every day in popularity and attendance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These guys are like demi-gods in Japan,
especially those that reach the level of Yokozuna, Grand Champion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are only six Grand Sumo Tournaments per
year with each wrestler competing in 15 individual bouts, so you can imagine
the amount of illegal money that must be passing through the hands of the
Yakuza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine if here and in the USA
that we only had six major baseball games per year or better yet, just six
football games per year, what kind of hype would there be around those
matches!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob stopped for a moment and started to slowly unfold
the brown wax paper in front of him on the kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You would have madness in Las Vegas, and all
the bookies would be rolling in the dough taken in windfalls of cash on just
six matches per year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would breed
serious corruption and a definite need to control the outcome, consequently
there would be cheating in the games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just how much money do you think is bet on the Super Bowl every year?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, it’s a fact that almost 4.7 billion
dollars was bet on the Super Bowl in 2017.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s not me making up those figures, you can check with The American
Gaming Association.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They keep all these
stats and figures,” said Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Unfolding the last piece of the wrapper, Bob exposed a
light orange round organ no larger than a human heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This my friends is a genetically altered
seal lung fresh from the beaches of Prince Edward Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, you thought that the only two exports
were potatoes and Prince Edward Island oysters.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His sarcastic wit went unnoticed by both Robert
and Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you mean, genetically altered?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob pushed the package towards Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Maybe genetically altered is not the right
word for what we are looking at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps
I should say, chemically mutated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
probably noticed the discoloration of this lung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It should resemble a human organ in shape,
size and color as this seal was probably no more than 250 pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I am saying is this lung should be a
darkish red color, not a light orange color.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Let me take a stab at this,” interrupted Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What you are telling us is that someone used
some sort of chemical on these organs on purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that explains all the dead animals
strewn about upon our beaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what
about all those animals that were blown into tiny bits?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the past few years, we’ve seen thousands,
or millions of body fragments wash up on the shoreline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were in so many pieces that we couldn’t
tell if it was a walrus, seal or even a whale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It almost looked like someone used dynamite to blow a hole in the poor
creatures.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes and no,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These animals were alive with the chemicals
already inside their bodies for months or even years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They swam the oceans, feeding off the sea
while ingesting toxins that caused their livers, kidneys and other major organs
to almost double in size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
creatures were cultivated like an oyster farmer, meticulously attending his crop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, you get the picture.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Now,” said Bob, I guess I should address the other
issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Killing is an intricate process
especially in the whaling industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
kind of imperative that enough explosives be used to maim the mammal but not to
blast him to kingdom come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gunnery
had to estimate the size of the beast, calculate both body surface with
approximate weight when she breached and determine the proper amount of
explosive to be used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If done correctly,
the initial burst of the steel arrow ripping through the oily flesh in her
skull, combined with the blast of the explosives, would immobilize her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second harpoon needed to penetrate near
the dorsal fin, though tragically, it often missed its mark.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis turned to Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sounds like Bob may have some inner
knowledge here.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob just ignored Travis and continued with his
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, still very much alive and
not impervious to the hot steel burning away at her cerebral cortex, the
Humpback would try in vain to escape her inevitable execution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her body would arch and fall, and her head
would pound against the hull of the ship to quicken death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air sacks in her lungs would fill with
blood rich in minerals and shoot up through the blowhole.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He stopped for a second to look at the expression on
Travis’ face, hoping to get some sort of reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither he nor Robert showed any emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, they were just numb or in disbelief. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, Bob continued his story.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The sight of blood speckled upon the body of this defenseless
giant would awaken evil in the most docile of men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like hungry piranhas they would thrash out at
their captive, using razor sharp gaveling hooks to tear apart the tender flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really didn’t matter if the creature was
still very much alive as they dissected her body like a drunken pathologist at
the city morgue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To them, this was
sport,” said Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I remember eleven months ago, I was on one of those
Japanese whaling ships, just 10 miles north of Saint Peters Bay heading towards
Newfoundland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was probably sometime
during springtime, but I can’t remember the exact day,” said Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Anyway, we came upon a herd of walrus all
nestled upon a floating sheet of ice, perhaps ten or fifteen good sized male
bulls just resting themselves in the cozy warmth of the afternoon sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gunnery spotted a decent sized walrus and
pulled the trigger piercing the moist flesh of the six-hundred-pound male just
right below the left flipper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In what
seemed like a micro fraction, the walrus exploded into a million bloody
fragments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other ten or so cows,
frightened by the blast, instinctively flung themselves into the murky waters
that befriended and protected them from the impending onslaught.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“One baby walrus, confused by all the commotion and
far too petrified to move, stood alone helpless on the bloodied ice pack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He roared in panic and tried to scuffle over
to the remains of his deceased father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was no more than twenty feet away from the carnage and noticed that one of his
hind flippers had been blown clear off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In almost an act of defiance, like a condemned man refusing to don a
blindfold before ascending the gallows, the baby calf faced our ship, shook his
head and just growled at us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although in
great physical pain, his flipper bone torn in half and protruding through his
skin, he still had the courage to fight back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even the unscrupulous gunner had to respect this defiance, had to admire
his helpless foe in his last moments on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, his respect and pity were no match for his thirst for pain and
bloodshed and with his itchy trigger finger tapping the cold metal half-moon
icon, he squeezed off another shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
baby never knew what hit him as the hot poker passed effortlessly through the
skull and proceeded to tear his head off his little frame.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I just slumped down and pressed my back into the cold
metal of the ship,” said Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was
the first time that I realized that we were nothing but evil and evil killed
for the joy of killing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really hated
this vessel, but even more than that, I despised myself for putting myself in
this situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that moment, I
realized that I needed to savor the hate, in hopes that justice would prevail,
and these bloody criminals would eventually pay for their barbaric torture of
these gentle creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe someday,
someone would witness these atrocities and somehow these killers would be
brought into court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just couldn’t
believe that I was the only person who knew what was going on off the coast of
Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others must have seen something,
heard some bellowing screams of pain, and yet this senseless killing continued.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was the government that ignorant or did they just not care?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ve done some bad things in my life,” said Bob, “but
this senseless killing was too much for me to take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess my boss thought it would toughen me
up, or perhaps he wanted to make me see what I was getting paid for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, it’s different eating steak and visiting
a slaughter house to understand how that steak landed on your plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That impression never leaves your mind!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was surprised by Bob’s sense of shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Money and power made people do terrible
things, made them look the other way when they knew right from wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Bob took this job for just the money, then
he was no more a sleazebag than the average father trying to provide for his
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if Bob took this job,
fulling understanding his job responsibilities and the consequences it would
have upon the overall environment, then in his eyes, Bob was a fucking asshole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So,
you are saying that these ships are just killing for the sport?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I hearing your correctly?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep, and believe me, it gets a whole lot worse when
you know the complete story,” replied Bob. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Anyway, it’s not uncommon for both our governments to
look the other direction when green crisp dollar bills slip into the filthy
pockets of rapacious politicians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
know, if their constituents realized how utterly corrupt their representatives
were, they would be expeditiously relieved of office and hung from the nearest
light post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the situation that now
confronts Syria and Iraq. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The senseless
bloodshed of innocent children and the rape and pillage of virgin women, while
our politicians look the other way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
Japan with all its vast resources of money chose to cut down all the Redwood
Trees in California, the government would unquestionably fulfill their
fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, if they also wanted to
purchase all the uranium and start stockpiling a nuclear arsenal, once again,
both governments would hand over the blueprints and help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was never a student of political science in
school, but at least I understood the fine line between political rhetoric and
political corruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any drone bee with
half a pot of honey in his belly can sniff out soured swollen receptacles
brought on by the early winds of August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In other words, the politicians no longer worked for the common masses,
rather they worked for the influential foreign lobbyists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the genocide of whales pleased the
Japanese, then so be it!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis got up from the table to get another cup of
coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He motioned to Robert, but he
shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He filled his cup to the
brim and took a long hard sip, cleared his throat and said, “So, where is this
story going, Bob?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve got animals
being chemically poisoned, and we’ve got mammals being blow into tiny bits all
for the amusement of some Japanese fanatic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What is the commonality in these actions, or am I just missing something
here?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,” said Bob, the common dominator in this story is
a decade old discovery that happened off the coast of Prince Edward Island and
you, Travis.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Me, what the fuck did I do?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s not so much as what you did that caused all
this, it’s what you discovered ten years ago,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you remember that incident long ago
between you and a few Japanese sailors on a pier?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis nodded his head and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, you mean the ass-whooping that I gave
those slimy bastards that were dumping chemicals into the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, I should have been given a medal
instead of spending time in the slammer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do you know what they were illegally dumping over the side of their
ship?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Biofane,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, I know all about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, the name was stamped in big blue
letters all over the outside of the drums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You would have thought these idiots would have been more careful to
conceal their illegal activities.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob
spread out his arms and pointed at the seal lung in the brown wax paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There you have it, gentlemen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The effects of Biofane on the ecological
system.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert was becoming agitated at the way the whole
story was unfolding and the different twists and turns that Bob was leading
them down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bob, if you have this great
secret, and you may be implicit in the whole damn thing from the start, why not
just get to the point of your story?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again, how are these two or three things related? What are we supposed
to be looking at?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You are looking at the effects of Biofane on the
mammals on and around the island, Robert,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In a nutshell, this chemical basically
causes the organs to grow at a demoniacally fast rate, essentially suffocating
the victim from the inside out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
causes muscle paralysis by blocking signals from the acetylcholine molecule. In
rudimentary terms, acetylcholine is the chemical that our nervous system
releases to activate muscles.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob, are you trying to give us a biology lesson or is
this leading somewhere?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hold your horses,” responded Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here is where it gets complicated and
interesting at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are two
different uses for what we are looking at in that little brown wax paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know this sounds ludicrous, and believe me,
I know you are going to think me crazy, but the Japanese sumo wrestlers eat
this to bulk up and to overpower their opponents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like the holy grail of quick energy,
like the sports drink, Red Bull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
doesn’t give them wings, but it does give them incredible bursts of energy and
the ability to withstand the barbaric slapping and shoving that occurs inside the
ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you have ever watched the sport
on TV, you would know what I am talking about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These massive wrestlers smack each other in the face, shoulders and everywhere
else on the human body in hopes of overcoming their opponent, either pushing
him to the ground or by throwing him out of the ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
matches at the tournaments might only last a few moments or so, but they are
fucking intense and can cause bodily harm with each thunderous blow from their
powerful arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They act just like two ferocious
grizzly bears with huge paws violently fighting to the death.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob stopped for a second to take a drink of
water.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You know, when you think about it,” continued Bob,
“it would be no different from our professional athletes using steroids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just look at Lance Armstrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, he took enhancing drugs for years, so
he could win the Tour De France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or look
at baseball; you’ve got Manny Ramirez using human chorionic gonadotropin to
stimulate the testosterone in his body, and for what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, he could hit more home runs than everyone
else!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, what about Mark McGwire,
Barry Bonds or even Alex Rodriguez.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
granted, the last three players never really admitted to taking performance
enhancing drugs, but we all know, they did it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The only reason they got caught was because these performance enhancing
drugs were found in their blood and urine tests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if you had a drug that was completely
untraceable in any drug test, don’t you think every professional athlete today
wouldn’t risk it for the fame and fortune?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell yes,” shouted Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The
drugs are virtually undetectable in the human body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they were ever drug tested, it would just
show up as some form of botulism poisoning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plain and simple!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fat bastard had mistakenly eaten some bad
food!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis held up his hand and stopped Bob in his
tracks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I guess what you are saying is
that these fat bastards eat this, or drink this meat to gain the advantage over
their opponents all for the sake of winning the match?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob nodded his head in agreement.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And,” continued Travis, “the drug is virtually
untraceable in any blood and urine test administered throughout professional
sporting events worldwide.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“And what’s more, they could barbeque one of those organs on the hibachi
grill down at Benihana of Tokyo, wolf it down ten minutes before entering the
Dohyo ring and nobody would know the difference.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And let me interject here,” said Robert, “I would
guess that all the mumbo jumbo that you were talking about earlier about the
illicit gambling and the advantage someone would have over knowing the results
of the match would make that person or persons very rich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I correct?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Robert knew he was right, he just wanted to
hear Bob say it.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep, you are right,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, I guess at this point in the story you are going
to tell us who or what entity profits from eating these chemically altered organs,
is that not correct, Bob?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Boy, you catch on fast,” smiled Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yuramiti Enterprises owns a pharmaceutical
empire in Japan and is run by your old friend, Murastro Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does that name ring a bell, Travis?” asked
Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t wait for a response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It should, you kicked the shit out of his
nephew a few years back and ended up doing some jail time for it.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just stood there with his coffee in hand as he
leaned against the kitchen sink and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He knew he didn’t have to respond, he knew that Bob was going to
continue with his tale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the
story was starting to make sense now and looked like it was winding down to the
finale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, Travis could see the
direction that Bob was heading now, and he was ready to hear more.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You see,” said Bob, “Satsumo currently owns and runs
Yuramiti Enterprises and he is in bed with the Yakuza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to swallow that red pill and delve even
deeper into the black hole, you will discover that Satsumo is heavily invested
in a sumo wrestling stable, known as the Cojo Shan and operated by Katsumara
Shinzo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Currently, and for the past six
years they have produced more Yokozunas than any other clan in the history of
sumo wrestling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since 1749 there have only been 72 sumo
wrestlers that have reached this distinction and two of them came from the Cojo
Shan stable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, everyone in the
industry knows that cheating goes on; they know from statistics that some
wrestlers purposefully throw the bouts so that their competitors can have a
better record and thus be promoted into the next hierarchy within the sumo
wrestling federation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
unstoppable, extremely powerful and rich beyond belief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of them, the Yakuza has benefited financially.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Why would a sumo wrestler purposefully throw the
match?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought they had honor and
pride,” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“They do,” responded Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They do have pride and honor, but they also
understand the importance of money and ranking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In a tournament they must fight 15 separate opponents during the
weeklong festivities. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If a wrestler has
already won eight bouts, he just might throw the next bout to someone that has
only won, say six or seven matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
mean, they get judged and promoted regardless if they won eight bouts or ten
bouts of if they won all 15 matches, so why not help your fellow wrestler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember, they only need to win 8 matches to
get to the next level.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And, since their clan is eating this mutated meat,
they are able to win more bouts than any of the other clans in Japan, is that
correct?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Quite Right,” replied Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Since the Yakuza has the advantage with this
performance enhancement meat by-product they obviously bet on this clan to win
the tournaments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I correct once
again?” replied Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t wait
for a standing ovation or any response from the houseguest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I would also have to surmise that hundreds
of millions of illegal gambling dollars are won or lost each year during these
matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the Yakuza are complicit in
this doping scam, they know who to bet on to either win or throw a match.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis walked over to the table and stood beside his
chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He placed his big cold hands on
the back of the chair and leaned his body forward. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I get what you are telling us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean it does make sense with all the dead
animals washed up on the beaches, but why blow up the animals?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t make sense unless they are just
doing it for the fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are they doing
this just for the sport, Bob?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob lowered his head and looked at the brown
package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took him a few seconds to
reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yep.” His speech was slow and
deliberate as he realized that the two men at the table were now judging him as
he was working for Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he
didn’t participate in the killings, he was just as culpable as the fucker who
pulled the trigger.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Both Travis and Robert shook their heads in complete
disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a brief silence, Robert
spoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, they kill for sport and they
carve up the other animals for the tainted meat to be exported to Japan all for
the sake of these fat fucking sumo wrestlers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How much of this meat do they shove down their throats to win?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Believe it or not, they actually just cut it up into
thin slices like sushi,” replied Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hell,
one ounce of the meat is more than enough for any 400-pound sumo wrestler to
feel the drugs pulsating through his veins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I guess it would be the equivalent of someone who shoots steroids before
a competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He or she just needs 5-10
milligrams to feel the effects. I mean, you don’t want to overdose on the
performance enhancement drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that
is only part of the puzzle and the other two parts are going to be difficult to
hear, especially for you, Travis.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just scratched the back of his head in
disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know, Bob, you’ve been
coming to my office for the past few days and never mentioned anything about
any of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, you literally
wasted three days of your life sitting in my office regurgitating stupid
stories of your past and delusional anecdotes of childhood experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are you telling us all this now?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob sat back in his chair and exhaled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know how you must perceive me at this
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, I dreaded telling you, but
I knew that this secret was too big to hold inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was killing me, killing me slowly from the
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the first time on that
ship, I knew something had to be done to stop the madness, and you still
haven’t heard the rest of the story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you think what I’ve told you so far was disgusting, wait until you hear the
worst part. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, Dr. Owen, I had to
waste your time in your office as they probably had me followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just a ruse to get to this point where
we could talk privately outside the office without extra ears hearing our
conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t take the chance
that they had your place bugged, Dr. Owen.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you mean worse?” shouted Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the fuck could be sicker than what
you’ve told us so far?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Let me tell you a little story about Yuramiti Pharmaceuticals,”
continued Bob, “and the purple apple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How much do you know about Botox?”</span></b><br />
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<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">CHAPTER 9</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The black limo slowly pulled into Miller’s Fish
Factory in Angio Rustico, just three miles East of Cavendish and came to a halt
about 20 feet from the front entrance of the processing facility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Fish Factory served two functions for
Satusmo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First and foremost, it was a
processing facility for many of the local fisherman on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a family owned and operated
business for over 60 years and at its peak in 2000, it employed 10 full time
workers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fisherman would dock their
boats to the pier adjacent to the factory and unload their haul for that day.
Once the fish were inside the building, they were cleaned, sliced up and
packaged for shipment.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Miller’s Fish Factory also served as a front for his
other business which was a far more profitable venture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where all the dead contaminated
organs from the seals, whales and walruses would eventually call home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From here, they would be cleaned and packaged
and shipped immediately to Yuramiti Enterprises to be used in the production of
the synthetic Botox knockoff, The Purple Apple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This 5000 square foot facility could easily process over a thousand
pounds of organs per month netting millions of dollars with each shipment to
Japan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the perfect front.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although it was Sunday evening, the lights in the head
office along with the neon lit sign showed signs of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone was in the office, probably the
accountant finishing out the paperwork for the Saturdays’ haul of white tail
tuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver turned off the
ignition, exited the driver side door and walked to the rear of the
vehicle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He respectfully opened the door
for Meitsu.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu sat for a moment to collect her thoughts and
reminisce about Cavendish and her favorite book, <u>Anne of Green Gables</u>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although she knew Lucy Maud Montgomery had
made up the fictional town of Avonlea, nonetheless, it was based on the rural
community of Cavendish, Prince Edward Island where L.M. Montgomery grew
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu wondered what it was like
back in the late 19<sup>th</sup> century growing up as an orphaned girl having
the Gulf of St. Lawrence just outside your window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clean air and the voracious rolling winds
fondling the salty waves as they crashed on the rocks just below her house
would make anyone dream about living on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was no wonder over 30 million copies of
her book had sold worldwide and why the Japanese flocked in droves to visit,
Cavendish, PEI every year.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although the thought of growing up as Anne was
tempting, it was not the reality that Meitsu envied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It must have been incredibly tough to have
grown up on PEI in the early 19<sup>th</sup> century considering all the lack
of necessities that we take for granted today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>True, the open space and red clay roads winding through the potato farms
was breathtaking, especially during the few weeks of summer, but what about the
other 48 weeks of winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu had
many opportunities to pass the cold winter nights huddled up to the fireplace
as the blistering Nordic winds howled outside her rental home in Charlottetown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were not enough logs to burn or enough
blankets to hide under to keep this angelic wolverine warm enough through the
winter months. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her body ached from the
shivering spasms and the veneers in her mouth were starting to show signs of
cracking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was during these harsh
winter months that she longed to be back in Tokyo soaking her body in her
favorite hot-spring bath house at the local Onsen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She preferred the Onsen bath houses over the
local Sento bath houses for the privacy factor and for the natural hot spring
water that cleansed her body of all the impurities in the air.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She would soak in the hot springs for hours on end,
enjoying the minerals in the water as they surrounded her pale skin and coated
her in a thin mist of relaxation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
worry, every harsh element would wash away in the tub as she floated away in
her own private Idaho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would think about
Anne of Green Gables running barefoot in the tall summer grass as the sun
tickled the red freckles on her face and the wind pushed through her long
reddish-brown hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne may have been
an orphan, but Cavendish, PEI adopted her hook, line and sinker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was funny, but the further away Meitsu got
from her roots and traditions, the more she needed to be free like this little
girl from Avonlea.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you need help getting out of the car?” interrupted
the driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He extended his hand, but
Meitsu politely brushed it away.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, I don’t need any help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just wanted to take a moment to collect my
thoughts,” she replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What happened
to my old driver, Mr. Harris?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t know, they just called me in at the last moment
to fill in for him,” answered the limo driver.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Have you ever visited the Anne of Green Gables house
in Cavendish?” she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more of
a statement than a question as she really didn’t care how he answered the
question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu was simply making small
talk and feigning interest in what the driver had to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She could smell the pungent odor from the processing
plant although the crisp salty ocean winds tried to disguise the fish guts, but,
to no avail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu started walking
towards the office door as the limo driver obediently followed close behind
her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes, Miss Yuramiti, many times,” replied the
driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“As you know, it’s only a five-minute
drive from here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve taken my wife and
kids many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally, the kids
like the amusement park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wife and I
enjoy walking the grounds and enjoying the panoramic views.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you like me to drive you there
tomorrow?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She walked straight ahead not bothering to turn
around. “No, that’s quite alright,” replied Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But, thank you for the kind offer.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Upon reaching the door, she took a moment to take in
the beauty of the harbor before stepping into the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved the ocean, loved the boats docked
to the wooden piers like babies tightly nestled in for the night being lulled
to sleep as they rolled back and forth in the waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lobster fishing vessels with all their
crates neatly piled on the decks and the others with their green fishing nets
hanging from the hoist cranes were eye candy to Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smell of the ocean and the night lights
shimmering off the waters’ edge was intoxicating even for an Asian city girl.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She turned around and addressed the driver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go back to the car and wait for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This shouldn’t take but twenty or thirty
minutes.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu waited for the driver to almost reach the limo
before she grasped the knob and twisted the handle to the left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the knob was cold to her touch, she
knew that whatever waited for her inside the office was far colder and more
unsettling especially to those victims inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She opened the door and walked over to the man
standing in the middle of the room and politely said, “Hello Mayor Jenkins.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although Satsumo and two Yakuza members were
patiently standing in the dimly lit corner of the room, she did not acknowledge
their presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew they would be
there, they were always there to make sure that things were done correctly and
in a timely manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mayor Jenkins extended his clammy open palm and shook
Meitsu’ tiny porcelain hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good to
see you again, Miss Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry it
has to be in this situation, but business first, as I always say.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu detested Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was just another pawn in Satsumo’s game of
chess, another greedy politician that would do anything for money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His black polyester suit was two sizes too
small for this 300-pound warthog, almost cutting off the circulation to his
elephantine neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only was he fat
and ugly, but he usually smelled like a rancid fart with a bad case of
halitosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His yellow stained teeth
bragged the fact that he chain smoked non-filtered cigarettes since childhood and
the whiteheads and blackheads that covered his face indicated that his diet was
rich in oils and fats. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu often wondered why he couldn’t afford to visit
a dermatologist on a regular basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
of the zits just below his fat jowls and next to his slightly crooked nose that
bent to the left were oozing puss right in front of her face!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was one disgusting pig and the mere fact
that he touched her tender skin before showering gave Meitsu the creeps. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“How was your ride?” interrupted Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stepped out of the comfort of the shadows
and stood in front of her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It was fine,” she replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What happened to the regular driver?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I had him drop me off here along with Mayor Jenkins
and another guest waiting for us in the other room,” replied Satsumo as he
motioned to the door behind one of the goons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“His youngest daughter was graduating from High School tonight and asked
for the night off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can all fit comfortably
in your limo once I finish up here.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Meitsu bowed and smiled, “Of course, Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be only too happy to be surrounded by
such distinguished gentlemen.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
the quintessential host, trained in every aspect of politeness and charm and
that is why Satsumo adored her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu
could open a thousand doors with her bewitchery and placate those unsuspecting
victims that were soon to leave this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To Satsumo, she was far more valuable and effective than the two Yakuza
gangsters that lurked in the shadows of this dimly lit office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking at them, you just knew you were in
danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They couldn’t hide who they were
nor, could they misdirect the crowd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were there for one thing and one thing only, to deliver pain and punishment to
some unsuspecting soul. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo respected these trained butchers for their years
of selfless devotion and their undying adherence for the code.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each would gladly chop off his own finger to
show respect to his leader, and each would undoubtedly kill when called upon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, they were not as cunning and shrewd as
Meitsu, but what they lacked in charisma they more than made up for in their
maniacal behavior.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo motioned towards the rear door at the back of
the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Gentleman, it is getting
late and I have some unfinished business that awaits my attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you would all follow me into the next room
I have provided you with some live entertainment.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The broad smile across his face could only
mean one thing and that was bad for anyone behind that wooden portal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu had come to recognize his facial
language only too well and knew how to interpret his sardonic sense of humor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three walked to the rear of the office as Satsumo
graciously opened the door for his two guests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He turned towards the two Yakuza members and told them to wait outside
until he was finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever he had
to do, he was in no need of their assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Upon entering the dimly lit windowless room, Meitsu
immediately saw a bloodied man hanging by his wrists from a meat hook from one
of the rafters in the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was no
ordinary room, rather it was where the fish were carved up into tiny pieces
before they were packaged and shipped off the Island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides a few metal tables for the employees
to hunch over and work, the room was barren of furniture and direct sunlight.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The victim’s hands were securely bound in standard
gray duct tape as his body <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>dangled in
the air, inches off the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
large man was shirtless and shoeless, and his body showed signs of traumatic
physical abuse either from the blunt side of a meat cleaver or from a very dull
machete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were five or more large
syringe needles sticking out of the right side of his neck and one needle
jammed into his chest cavity just below his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The needles were barren of any liquid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">His face had numerous cigarette burn marks and someone
had taken the time to forcefully pull out his two front teeth with a pair of
Craftsman pliers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two teeth and the blood-stained
pliers along with a dozen or so half smoked cigarettes lay on the floor in a
congealed pool of the victim’s own blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was evident that this interrogation had been going on for some time
as the blood splatter was beginning to thicken and turn a darkish red
color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the fat man was
conscious, he was fading fast and would probably die of blood loss within the
next few hours or sooner if Satsumo had anything to do with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, well, well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What do we have here?” asked Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He victoriously patted his large belly,
slipped his burly hands into his trouser pockets and grinned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How are you doing, George?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looks like your fat mouth has gotten you into
trouble once again.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told you to keep
your big mouth shut, but you had to try to impress everyone down at the station
that you had things under control.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins walked up to the victim and proceeded to
slowly encircle the body gloating from ear to ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The puss from his zits was bubbling from his
open pores in anticipation and he was starting to sport what appeared to be a
boner while watching George struggle to say alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meitsu and Satsumo stood there watching the
mayor become more and more aroused by the gruesome scene.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, Mr. George Davis,” he said as he shoved his
face within inches of the hanging man. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If
this is what you mean by control, I don’t envy you now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All you had to do was keep your trap shut and take your cut of the
money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, no, that was too hard for a
simpleton like you to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all
benefited from Mr. Satsumo’s generosity, everyone on the island you fucking
idiot!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George started to make some gurgling noises in a vain
attempt to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fuck you mayor and
that fucking Jap next to you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each word
was a struggle to escape the hollows of his bloodied mouth and even harder to
understand as the missing teeth caused the words to sound more like hissing
rather than actual words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless,
all three present in the room knew what George was trying to say even if his
diction was impaired. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Too bad your wife isn’t here, George,” laughed Mayor
Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She would<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>love to have seen this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With you out of the picture, she finally gets
the relief that she deserves.” Jenkins slowly turned his back to George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And, she will never get to know what
happened to her abusive pig of a husband.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo decided it was time to interrupt the happy
homecoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What we need to know from
you, George, is did you tell anyone?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George arched his head back and spit a wad of blood
from his mouth onto the cold cement floor just below his feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His body ached from the torment and his mind
was pulsating as the synaptic neurons fired electrical and chemical signals to
the effector cells warning the human that he was in serious trouble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like an electrical eel had slithered
inside his warm brainstem and decided to shock the pons and the medulla at the
same time causing his eyes to violently ping pong back and forth inside his
sockets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pain he was feeling was
incredible, but it was not caused by any eel, rather George was starting to
feel the effects of the drugs that were injected directly into this neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The highly concentrated dose of The Purple
Apple was rapidly seeping into his vital organs and causing irreparable damage
to the soft tissues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this rate he
would be dead in 20 minutes.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo was becoming impatient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Tell me old man, who did you talk to?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took his left index finger and jabbed it
into George’s eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George screamed out in pain as his onlookers stood
there waiting for him to either die or pass out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo stepped back and took a long hard
look at his victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True, he wanted
George dead, but he had to respect George’s ability to withstand pain, as he
was sure it rated at least an eight on the pain threshold factor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt about it, this fat bastard was one
tough cookie.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Answer me,” grunted Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I mean let’s face it Officer Davis, you know
that you are about to die, so, why not avoid more pain? You tell me what I want
to know, and I will make the pain go away.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He took a few steps back just in case George was going to spit on
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, tell me what I want to
know!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who else have you been talking
to?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George tried to respond but all he could muster was a
loud gurgling noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His time was
rapidly coming to an end as his bodily functions were shutting down on
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pain he felt in his upper shoulders
and arms was violently burning throughout his entire body and it took every
ounce of energy to just stay awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although George categorically knew that he was going to die, nonetheless,
he fought for every moment on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George may not have been a polished man or even a
decent husband, but what he lacked in sophistication and eloquence, he more
than made up in raw courage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the
type of man that you would want to guard your back, the type of man that you
could count on when the nasty shit hit the fan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>George would never back down from a fight and he would rather die
protecting his honor than take the easy way out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently, his honor and code of values
would inevitably lead to his death in the next twenty minutes or so. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He opened his eyes and starred at the three witnesses
standing before his execution and wondered where they had gone wrong in
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could understand that greed was
the force that drove Mayor Jenkins and Satsumo to commit to a life of
debauchery and malfeasance, but what about the albino girl?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t look like she possessed a mean
bone in her tiny body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps she too
was just a victim of circumstance and being forced to take part in his
death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, whatever the case, she was
here to witness the last moments of his life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, in a twisted sort of way, he needed
Meitsu to be there as she was the only good thing left in this room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he were going to die, he wanted someone
with compassion to look straight into his eyes and tell him that everything was
going to be alright.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">His mind was racing in five different directions at
the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one hand, he was
trying to rationalize life and the barbarity of human behavior while at the
same time he was thinking about his legacy and what others would say about him
after his death. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would they say that
George was a principled man who strove to push others to be better, or would
they say that he was a fat drunkard that got what he deserved in life? Granted
he was a terrible husband, but that shouldn’t define him in life, at least
that’s what he thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could his peers
not overlook this tawdry character and judge him on his civic duty as a police
officer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never took bribes and he
always took the honorable path in life, even if it meant fewer promotions and
less pay. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely the two would equal
themselves out. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George was fading in and out of consciousness and
faintly caught the image of a man to his right wielding what looked like a large
blade with serrations on the spine of the knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
felt a slight thud to his leg but couldn’t quite grasp the connection behind
the cold dull sensation that he was now feeling and the man madly slashing into
his kneecap like a bushwhacker making his way through the jungles of Brazil. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It appeared that the Asian man was trying to
server his right leg just below the kneecap, but once again, that made no sense
at all.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo, intent on dismembering George limb by limb,
delivered four hard swipes of the blade to the right side of the victim until
the severed leg fell to the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
any mortal man on any planet in the cosmic universe, the sheer pain of a
butcher hacking off a limb would have thrown the body into horrific
spasms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, George was now
impervious to any new pain, thanks in part to the tetrodotoxins that were
flowing through his bloodstream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
silos that housed all the unpleasant sensations in the human body were
completely filled with every measure of torment that God had sadistically injected
into every human soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing at this
point could hurt George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked up
and just smiled.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Damn!” shouted Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That fucker is one tough bastard!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell you what, George, here is what we are
going to do,” he said as he walked over to the left side of the amputee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“After we hack off all your limbs, we are
going to throw your body into the fish grinder in the back of the building, mix
you up with the other fish and sell it to Purina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think about it, thousands of cats will enjoy
the taste of George Davis.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He laughed
victoriously but stopped short to see the reaction on George’s face. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">George said nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His face was dull of any expression and hope as he hung there dangling
from the hook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the last show of courage,
George attempted a respond, but was far too weak from the drugs and the loss of
blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George was done, he couldn’t go
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just smiled, closed his eyelids
and died.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I think our hero has kicked the proverbial bucket,”
joked Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his right
index finger, he poked George twice in the bare chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lifeless body showed no signs of
movement. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I guess we will never know
who he talked with.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo dropped the machete onto the bloodied
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It bounced off the cement and
sounded like a small hammer hitting a giant cathedral bell high above all the
churchgoers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What you need to do, Mayor
Jenkins, is to take George’s police issued revolver, go over to Dr. Owens and
kill both he and Lieutenant Sterling.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mayor Jenkins was confused and shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What do you mean,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s very simple,” yelled Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You just point the gun and pull the
trigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bullets do all the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And don’t forget who caused this mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people work for you Mayor Jenkins and
you need to clean up the loose ends!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
I make myself clear?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But why do we have to kill anyone else,” asked
Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I mean, George didn’t tell
anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure of it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would have confessed.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Satsumo turned and walked straight towards Mayor
Jenkins stopping within two feet of the greedy politician.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mark my words, Jenkins, you will get rid of
those nitwits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t take any chances.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His words were slow and decisive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you use George’s pistol, they will trace
it back to the police department and eventually back to Officer Davis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, since they won’t be able to find his body,
they will naturally think George killed them and left the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, do I make myself clear?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Before Mayor Jenkins could answer, Satsumo turned
towards Meitsu and headed out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He turned back just as he reached the knob and said, “Make damn sure you
and the two goons behind the door clean up this mess before you leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t forget to dispose of the body,” he
shouted as they disappeared through the doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">CHAPTER 10</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis sat on the tan leather sofa in the den, holding
onto his hot cup of day-old coffee trying to wrap his head around everything he
heard earlier in the day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the coffee wasn’t super-hot,
nonetheless, it hit the spot, he was too exhausted to make a fresh pot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He needed some time to digest the news, and
time to figure out how to deal with the business at hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Only one table lamp with a large white shade
illuminated the spacious den, otherwise it was completely dark in the
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis glanced at the small
grandfather clock upon the fireplace mantle and nodded to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
gave off just enough light for Travis to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Christ, it’s almost 10:30,” he said aloud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
suddenly turned towards the far end of the fireplace and said, “I’m sure you’re
there, I could smell you coming into the room.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He took a long sip and turned his attention towards
the empty Queen Anne Wingback chair with the elegant bone top grade leather
upholstery and the nail head detail that rose up the arms of the chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the first bit of furniture that Dr.
Jill Koty and Travis had bought together after he officially moved into the
house in 2000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved that chair, not
because it was stylish, but rather for the symmetry that it brought to the cold
den.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It meshed perfectly to what Travis’
always wanted in a den with a huge fireplace, mantle and genuine comfortable
places for friends and family to sit.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, you now know the truth,” uttered the grotesque
creature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It pushed his skeletal body
into the cool leather Queen Anne chair and folded his legs across its lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its breath was obnoxiously vile tonight and
Travis could see each word leaving his parched lips as the temperature in the
room dipped below freezing.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast did not come to argue tonight, it came for
company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was probably the first time
that the two had ever sat across from one another and not said a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also the first time that Travis felt a
tinge of empathy for the cold beast as he cowardly hid in the shadows of the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis just watched the demon as
he slowly and methodically swayed his head back and forth like Stevie Wonder on
stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, what have we learned, my dear Travis?” whispered
the creature.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis sat for a moment before responding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew it was insane to talk to invisible
spirits, but many sane people talked to themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Einstein talked to himself all the time and
look what he accomplished in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
better yet, Abraham Lincoln often talked to the dead soldiers late at night in
the White House from the battlefields of Bull Run, from the Battle of Antietam
and even from the Battle of Gettysburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, in July of 1863 then Vice President Andrew Johnson recorded in
his journal about a conversation that he overheard involving Abraham Lincoln
and a Confederate Lieutenant that was killed in Pickett’s Charge.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">On the third day of the assault, the 23-year-old
Lieutenant, a Mr. Henry Williams from Charleston, South Carolina stepped from
the tree line and began the grueling half mile or so march across the open
fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He advanced to the halfway mark
before the Union launched a murderous cannonade and wiped out the advancing
infantry. Lieutenant Williams was dead before his body even hit the cold ground.
</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">President Lincoln had many a long conversation with
Lieutenant Williams late at night on the gravel circular road in front of the
Thomas Jefferson statue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could be
seen talking into thin air as he walked in circles gently kicking the white flower
peddles onto the flat-rolled lawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
would talk about family and the war and those that they loved and those that
they lost.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Ironically, although the Lieutenant was a Confederate
soldier he held no ill feelings towards Lincoln.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that preoccupied his thoughts
were his family and life after the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How would this all pan out?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would
the South secede from the Union?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had
a lot of questions to ask the president, and Lincoln being the true gentleman
that he was, answered truthfully and with sincerity. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I don’t know,” President Lincoln would answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m sorry that you died and I’m sorry for
every single soldier involved in this war who tragically lost their life holding
onto their convictions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t matter whether you believe in the
abolition of slavery or succession from the Union, before you really every got
to live your life.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank you,” replied the soldier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In a different time and a different place, I
would have been proud to stand behind you and defend the principles of this
great nation.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">That would be the end of the conversation for the
evening and Mr. Lincoln would slowly walk back to the White House.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would return to the same gravel road night
after night haunted by the spirit of Lieutenant Williams.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was in good company with the many spirit
talkers that proceeded him in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
he were deemed crazy than all those politicians, actors, scientists, teachers
and all the rest of the people on the planet were just as bonkers as Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What I have learned,” replied Travis, “is that the
world is a fucked-up place.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast just sat in the chair and continued to
examine his trophy as Travis struggled to wrap his mind over the past 12 hours
of his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just learned that not
only were they eating these contaminated organs to boost energy levels in Sumo
wrestlers, but they were also synthesizing the toxins in the samples to produce
a form of Botox. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“How in the hell did they come up with this idea, this
idea of infecting animals and using their organs in the first place?” asked
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It doesn’t make any sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The correlation between a chemical weapon that
was used in Vietnam and marine mammals, it doesn’t compute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one could come up with this idea of, hey
let’s feed this poison to mammals and then harvest them, and then synthesize
the chemicals inside the tissues to produce one of the most toxic substances in
the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one in their right mind
would even think of doing this,” yelled Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But you are wrong, dead wrong,” replied the
beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And, it’s not as far-fetched as
an idea as one might think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just look at
all the food you eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where do you think
it comes from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look at the chicken
industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food you eat has so many
antibiotics and growth hormones in it that would make any epidemiologist
cringe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And who do you think benefits
from all these foreign toxins?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pharmaceutical
industry, you idiot!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember the adage,
you are what you eat.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis sat there motionless as he listened to his
tormentor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were so many sleepless
nights that this bastard had destroyed, so many dreams that he invaded and
infected with hatred and despair, and, so many hours of sheer gut-wrenching pain
that he so graciously bestowed upon a widower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis knew that he hated this cadaverous creature with every muscle in
his body, but the creature was making sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I hear what you are saying,” responded Travis. “I
guess in a haphazard sort of way, the end product or end result was developed
in some laboratory decades ago by a deceptive alchemist before the consumer had
a chance to figure it out for himself.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The demon nodded his approval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know if he was being deceptive or if
that is the right terminology, perhaps a better label would be insightfulness,”
replied the creature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just think about
it for a second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Develop the disease
before you create the cure; that is the perfect recipe for disaster and
disaster spells money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your government,
the food industry, the oil and gas sector and yes, even the pharmaceutical
industry work in this delusional way.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You mean that we are a reactional society that has no
morals,” said Travis sarcastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You said it, not me,” replied the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Botox knock-off that Bob Hunter told you
about earlier today is just a byproduct invention from some entrepreneur taking
charge of his financial situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously,
he had help in synthesizing the process, probably a bunch of chemists and
epidemiologists working closely together to produce one of the most toxic
substances known to man today.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, how did they come up with the idea of making this
Botox knock-off?” asked Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Was it
created by accident or did they intentionally set out to produce this toxin and
finally, how did they think of using sea mammals in the process?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Good questions,” replied the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“First, yes they intentionally set out to
create the toxin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are aware how easy
it is to get botulism poisoning?” he asked.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, I know that you can get botulism poisoning by
eating foods that were improperly canned or from preserved foods,” replied
Travis. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Correct,” responded the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Preserved foods can contain the botulinum
toxin and the bacterium clostridium botulinum spores can be found in plants, in
the soil, water and in the intestinal tracts of some animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember from Biology 101, canned foods such
as fruits, vegetable and fish that are low in acid, are a great source of
foodborne botulism.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok, I get the connection,” replied Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, I figured you would understand the ABC’s of
this toxin,” he replied sarcastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“But what you didn’t expect was the connection between the Biofane toxin
that you stumbled across over a decade ago and the marine ecology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since most biotransformation occurs in the
liver, the complex enzyme-based process altered the chemical structure of those
organs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next, throw in a mad chemist,
and improperly canned organs infected by Biofane, and viola, we now have a new
strain of botulism poisoning ready for consumption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All you need now is a way to synthesize the toxic
mash with some bacterium clostridium botulinum and you have developed a new and
deadlier neurotoxin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hello Purple Apple,
goodbye Botox!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only is it cheaper to
make, but its effects are longer lasting than traditional Botox.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast stopped for a moment for Travis to digest
the enormity of the situation and the financial impact of the Purple Apple upon
mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Travis, do you know how many famous drugs were
developed and sold all over the world today because of animal research and
testing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look at drugs like Nexium,
Celebrex, Viagra and even Oxycontin, just to name a few.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, they used rats, Beagle dogs, rabbits,
mice and some monkeys in the research and development of these drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And go back a hundred years or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whale oil was used in oil lamps, soap and
even used in margarine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During WW II,
whale oil was an essential ingredient in the production of nitroglycerin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, finally, there are even some rumors
still out there that NASA used synthetic whale oil to lubricate the Hubble
Telescope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absurd as it sounded, it was a
well-known fact that synthetic whale oil was resistant to freezing and able to
keep its density at very high pressures even in subzero gravity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christ, Travis, scientists have been injecting
and dissecting animals for the past few hundred years,” explained the beast.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But, tell me, if you knew that you could make
billions of dollars in the future by injecting citizens with toxins that were
approved by the FDA, wouldn’t you?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re asking me if I would deliberately kill hundreds
of thousands of large sea mammals with toxic drugs that would chemically change
their inner organs, all to produce this Purple Apple concoction, hell no!”
shouted Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Think about the
consequences to the environment, to the water, to the other fish and aquatic
species that call the ocean their home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s immoral and downright evil.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The creature unfolded his legs and settled into the wingback
chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was ready for a fight and he
loved what Travis could offer him day or night: confutation.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Travis, taking the moral ground is passé.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a hard look at your everyday cosmetics
that you currently use, shaving cream, hair gels, lip balms, lipsticks,
sunscreens, expensive perfumes and even your face moisturizers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The list goes on and on, but you must know
that shark liver oil is used in lip balms and sunscreens and lanolin that is
made from sheep wool is used in moisturizers and shaving cream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You kill millions of animals every day for
profit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, let me stop you for a
moment and educate you on morality,” interrupted the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you eat cereal?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Of course,” answered Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And did you feed your son, Brice cereal or did you
ever buy a plastic bottle of water,” asked the demon?</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t answer the question, he just nodded his
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew where this was leading,
but let the demon continue with his line of thought.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Cereal has a lot of chemicals, and not all of them
are natural,” smiled the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The
cereal is inside a plastic bag and as we all know from our history lessons;
tiny miniscule particles of plastics are showing up in everything that we eat
and drink these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is where the
oil and gas industry truly benefit from this symbiotic relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we all know, you can’t have plastic
without oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You, my fine sir, were
essentially feeding poison to your kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously,
you didn’t consciously put the poison in his mouth, but you are somewhat
culpable.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“With that logic, we are all culpable and it doesn’t
end there, does it?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Quite right,” replied the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Once ingested, twenty or thirty years down
the road, we start showing the signs of disease, perhaps cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now who comes into play?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pharmaceutical industry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, who gets rich off all three
sectors?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beast motioned with his
hands for Travis to pipe in with the obvious answer.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Politicians and lobbyists,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, from your train of thought, I am immoral
because I fed my dead son chemicals that would probably have ended up killing
him in the long run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And since I voted
for these politicians, I am just as liable and evil as Satsumo and Yuramiti
Enterprises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that what you are
insinuating?” asked Travis. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The creature smiled at Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His vampire fangs glistened in the darkness
of the night as droplets of saliva were trickling down his sharp incisors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started to sway back and forth like a
blind musician listening to music as the droplets of saliva plummeted onto his
dirty wool shroud that covered his disgusting body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, how does this end?” asked Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can’t defeat a man like Satsumo and
certainly can’t stop or bring down a pharmaceutical empire halfway across the
planet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if Bob Hunter is correct,
there are millions upon millions of consumers over there that use this Botox
concoction on a regular basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean,
how does one stop a well-oiled machine with hundreds of franchises selling this
Purple Apple all over Asia?” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You can’t stop it,” replied the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But, they will find you and stop you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, if I can’t stop it, then why are you telling me
all this?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hell, I didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t
already know,” he sarcastically replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Bob Hunter let you in on a little secret that will probably end in your
death and the death of your friends and neighbors.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Again, why are you telling me all this at 11:00 on a
Sunday evening?” asked Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you trying to give me a
heads-up warning or are you trying to be my best friend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And really come to think of it, why would
they even concern themselves with someone like myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just a psychiatrist.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast lifted his right hand to his mouth and wiped
the saliva away from his chapped lips. “Yes, you are a psychiatrist, but you
are a psychiatrist that knows too much about Satsumo’s business, and, this guy is
holding a grudge against you.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Because I beat the shit out of his nephew a decade or
so ago?” yelled Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shook his
head in disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis knew the
answer, he just wanted to hear how absurd it sounded coming out of the
creature’s mouth.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep,” laughed the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He has a score to settle, and, since you now
know the truth, he can’t afford this information leaking out to the
public.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Way, way too much money for the
pharmaceutical company and the Yakuza gang to ignore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are a persistent thorn in their side,
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to snip that thorn,” he
said.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone or something had broken one of the
window panes on the back door. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The beast just smiled from ear to ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I believe you have a guest at the back
door.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">CHAPTER 11</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob Hunter grasped both sides of the toilet bowl,
exhausted to within inches of passing out in pain as his stomach muscles vibrated
his inner organs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t force
himself to throw up anymore and wanted the dry heaves to stop and give his body
some respite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long foul-smelling chain
of slimy mucus dangled from his lower lip and slowly made its way down into the
bottom of the toilet bowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob tried to
spit it out or shake it off his lower lip, but it just clung there like a fat
parasite swaying in the wind, taunting the water below. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He finally had to use the back of his right
hand to remove the rest of the spit from his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob grabbed the white hotel towel, wiped his
hands clean and threw it onto the bathroom floor as he headed back into the
bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would leave it for the maid
to clean up.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He managed to make it to the bed before collapsing
into the fetal position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob was sick,
deadly sick and only he and his doctor knew how much longer he had on this
earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pancreatic cancer was a death
sentence and had taken the lives of such great men like Steve Jobs, Michael
Landon and his favorite actor, Patrick Swayze, so why would Bob think he had even
a remote chance of beating stage 4 pancreatic cancer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew at best chance he might have another
six months to a year to live, but he just couldn’t take that chance.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Everything that could have been done and every
experimental medication that he had tried, failed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The disease had metastasized and spread to
his other organs including his spleen and liver and surgery and chemotherapy were
no longer viable options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had come to
grips with his predicament in life but needed a few more days to expose Satsumo
and make things right in the world.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although Bob was only 46 years old, he felt like he
was living in the body of a 65-year-old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sure, he had done some terrible things in his life including cheating on
his 35-year-old wife, Private Lauren Hunter who was busy fighting in Iraq.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was serving her third tour in the Middle
East and Bob was hoping to dear God that he would get to see her one more time
before he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would ask for her
forgiveness and then apologize for leaving her.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He knew that she would understand his loneliness, the
three years of uncertainty without a friend to talk to and without the
companionship of a loving spouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
last time he had seen her in person was over four months ago on leave over the
Christmas holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked worried,
even frightened as she knew that his cancer was rapidly infesting other parts
in his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, she still clung onto hope
that some new drug, or some new procedure would save his life. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Private Hunter cherished the moments that she got to
spend with Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was her rock, the one
true point of happiness in her life and undoubtedly the only reason why she
wanted to return home for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
would look into his face and see the pain in his brown eyes and the hurt in his
forced smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew the battle that
he fought emotionally and physically every day since he was first diagnosed
with pancreatic cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though it was a
death sentence, she too was the victim in this story and would ultimately die
of a broken heart because of his disease.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Lauren could never tell Bob about all the gruesome
atrocities in Iraq.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never let
her go back to that hell hole if he understood how dangerous and volatile the
situation had become.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The newspapers and
television reporters had vacated the premises and now chose to concentrate on
newer and juicier stories about President Trump and the wall he wanted to build
on the Mexican border rather than the ongoing war in the Middle East.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The media, well aware that factions of ISIS
and Al-Qaida were still operating throughout Iraq and Syria, simply chose to
look for newer stories that would sell papers. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And, besides, how could she look into his baby brown
eyes and tell him about the senseless bombings inside local markets filled with
women and children looking to buy fresh fruit and other produce for their
evening supper?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could she even
attempt to describe the carnage of seeing little boys and girls with partially
blown off heads and missing limbs screaming for their mothers as they clutched
handfuls of dates in their tender hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their bloodied bodies howling in pain as they wiggled back and forth in
the caustic dirt, begging for relief from all the pain that chewed up and down
their spinal cords. She just couldn’t open up to Bob and bring him into her
disgusting world at this point in his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some pain was just too gruesome to share, even with the love of her
life.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">She told herself that this was her last tour, the last
time that she would put her life in danger protecting a country that could care
less if she lived or died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Private
Hunter didn’t want to alarm Bob about the attacks on her compound nor did she
want him to know that she and the other female soldiers were sitting ducks in
Iraq.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Both Private Hunter and Bob had decided six years ago when
they first married to put off having kids and to concentrate on their
jobs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through the military, they had
decent health coverage and through Yuramiti Enterprises, they would be able to comfortably
retire within the next few years with a chunk of change in the bank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, they both knew that Bob had to look the
other way when dealing with Satsumo and sometimes he just had to sell his soul
to the devil to get things done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it
paid the bills and at that point in their lives, that was what mattered most to
Mr. and Mrs. Hunter.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob, for all intents and purposes, was a logistic and
procurement genius in the pharmaceutical arena.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>During his earlier years, he had worked for some of the largest pharmaceutical
giants in the world such as Pfizer, Merck and Johnson & Johnson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When these companies needed to find new
chemical sources or needed to weed through all the bureaucratic red tape, they
called on Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had that je ne sais quoi charisma that
opened doors and opened communication channels around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his comic wit and intelligent repartee,
Bob easily navigated through the business channels being ever so careful to
avoid stepping on or demeaning fellow employees.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He made miracles happen in the logistic channels,
speeding up shipments from all over the world, saving hundreds of millions of
dollars for these pharmaceutical giants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just one day’s delay, could cost millions in profits along with possible
spoilage or cross contaminations of these valuable lifesaving drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob not only knew, but constantly practiced
his negotiation skills on those who could get things done, those individuals
that could open doors and expedite his shipments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To Bob, it was the little people in the
company that really made things happen, not the CEO’s or CFO’s of Wall Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yuramiti Enterprises was an up and coming giant in the
pharmaceutical industry and desperately needed someone with Bob’s skill and
connections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were having issues in
facilitating delicate materials from North America and reached out to Bob in
late 2008 with promises of a huge salary and all the benefits that he could ever
want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Naturally Bob jumped at the offer
of working for the prestigious pharmaceutical giant from the Orient and
immediately began his new life with Yuramiti Enterprises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not long after that, he was introduced to
Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Since Bob was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two
years ago, he often wondered if this were divine intervention or some sort of
sadistic payback for all the bad things he had witnessed at Yuramiti
Enterprises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did it happen to
him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not the mastermind behind
the Purple Apple and he certainly wasn’t responsible for the tainted organs
that were shipped over to the sumo wrestlers in Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob wasn’t totally innocent, that he knew,
but he wasn’t the terrible beast that killed people and animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That honor fell upon Satsumo.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob missed his wife and often fell asleep dreaming of
her infectious smile and positive attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was the one constant, the one drug that helped him endure the
endless chemotherapy treatments over the past 18 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did worry about her being a female soldier
halfway across the world, but he was confident that her fellow comrades had her
back and would make sure that she came home safe and sound. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would try to assure him that the war was
basically over, and the bad guys had either disbanded or been killed. She was
simply doing basic patrol and training the new Iraq army to take over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did he know her tragic fate for had he
known, he would have stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The room was beginning to spin faster and faster as he
lay on the hotel bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That nauseated
feeling coming back as he fought the need to throw up all over the clean
sheets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob could taste the pungent
flavor of semi-dry vomit as it edged its way up his esophagus, but pushed it
back down into his stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just
needed a few moments of normality in his life, a few seconds to relax before he
needed to call back Nuraki Yuramiti. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">By ratting out Satsumo, Bob realized that he assuredly
put Travis and his friend’s life in danger, but the rewards far outnumbered the
risks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t stupid or naïve in his thinking, Yuramiti
Enterprises was the 900-pound gorilla in the room and impossible to take down,
of that he was certain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
pharmaceutical empire was an octopus with sharp tentacles dipped into the pockets
of hundreds of political figures and heads of large conglomerations around the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could not be stopped or put
out of business, but they could be forced to stop the senseless dumping of
toxic substances into the oceans.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And besides, Yuramiti Enterprises had the technology
and processing in place to synthesize the Purple Apple from scratch. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t need new chemically altered organs
from Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only reason for the
continuous farming of these organs and the senseless killing of the marine
mammals was for Satsumo and his wrestling clan in Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Satsumo was just plain greedy and trying to
burn the wick from both ends.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The hotel phone ringing in his ears brought Bob back
to his temporary reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Sunday
evening, 10:15 pm and Bob was curled up in a fetal position on his hotel
bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From a distance, he looked more
like a rolled up giant caterpillar preparing his silk cocoon, awaiting his
transformation into a butterfly, rather than a sick man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob reached over to the nightstand and picked up the
phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hello Nuraki,” he mumbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve been waiting to hear back from you
although I was under the impression that I was going to call you back on my
cell phone.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Bob, good to hear your voice my old friend,” replied
Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I figured that I would reach
out to you this evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds like you
aren’t doing so well.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more of a
statement rather than a question as Yuramiti was aware of Bob’s health.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob slowly sat up in bed and looked at his reflection
in the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked like shit and felt
even worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His throat was rough and dry,
but he felt obliged to respond in an upbeat tone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah,” he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve definitely felt better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, you got my last message?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too
surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I knew, or had some
suspicions, but never wanted to open Pandora’s Box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of my fault, when you think about it,
Bob” replied Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You go your
whole life wanting to leave a legacy for your family, believing in your friends
and then shit happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You hear some
rumors, gossip inside the boardrooms and strange looks from your friends, and
deep down, I mean deep down, I knew that it was true.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob didn’t say a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He just listened attentively to the tame voice on the other line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted, he wanted to interrupt Yuramiti, to
scream in his ear and tell him to fucking kill Satsumo and stop the madness,
but he knew better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I really don’t know what to do Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
what I must do, but it’s a tough pill to swallow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, this will end tomorrow, one way
or the other.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I understand,” replied Bob.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Is it true about Meitsu and Satsumo?” asked Nuraki.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Bob hesitated before responding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, it’s true.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m just outside of Fredericton, New Brunswick now and
heading to PEI.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See you tomorrow, Bob.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yuramiti hung up the phone before Bob could
reply.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">CHAPTER 12</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis jumped up from the leather couch, picked up the
wooden baseball bat next to the fireplace and walked out of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He carefully
maneuvered his large frame from the hallway and into the kitchen, doing his
best not to alert the intruder to his whereabouts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was darker than usual in the house, but he
knew every nook and cranny and felt safe in the shadows of the old Victorian
homestead.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">As he entered the kitchen, he immediately saw the
shattered pieces of broken glass strewed about the white tile floor, being very
careful not to step on the shards in his bare feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moonlight reflected off the glass and
illuminated the room in a kaleidoscope of images and patterns upon the walls
and cabinetry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cool wind of an early spring hollowed through
the broken panes as the hairs on Travis’ arms stood to attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although Travis couldn’t see anyone in the
room, he knew he wasn’t alone.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis slowly worked his way over to the kitchen door
and started to close it with the end of the baseball bat when he suddenly felt
a throbbing sensation at the nape of his skull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His vision blurred and his head felt like it was splitting open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis passed out and fell to the kitchen
floor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He lay on the floor in a small pool of his own warm
blood for a moment or two before he started to regain consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he was able to open his eyes, he saw two
black shoes sitting in a chair in front of his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although his head was pounding, he managed to
push himself up into a sitting position on the kitchen floor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What the hell happened?” he asked. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who are you?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The intruder reached over to the small lamp on the
kitchen table and flicked it on.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What the fuck are you doing in my house, Jenkins?”
yelled Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You coming for a
donation or asking for my support in the upcoming mayoral election?” He brushed
the hair from his green eyes and felt the back of his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was bleeding but could have been a whole
lot worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis realized he was in
danger, but he knew he couldn’t show any fear, at least not to Mayor
Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he could keep him talking
and distracted, then he might have a chance to overpower the zit infested pig.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Funny fucking question coming from a dead man,”
replied Mayor Jenkins as he sat there in the chair pointing the gun in Travis’
direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenkins was enjoying himself,
playing the tough guy with the snub nosed 38 revolver not three feet from the
victim’s temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I got to be honest
with you Travis, when Satsumo told me to come over here and put a bullet into
your thick skull, I initially had some reservations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I’ve known you all my life, hell,
grew up with you on the island and it never dawned on me to just kill you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now looking at it from a different
perspective, I should have done this a lot sooner in life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started to laugh and pat his belly with
his left hand.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You will excuse me if I refrain from laughing,”
Travis sarcastically replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“All
along, I knew that I didn’t like you, Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You and the other phony politicians and city council members never did
anything for the betterment of the islanders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was all about the bribes, all about the foreign investors to you and
to your cronies. Tell me, did you ever intend on doing something right in
life?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins smiled and shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You see Travis, it doesn’t matter what is considered right or wrong in
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that matters, is
the person standing at the end of the day, and it sure ain’t you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You won’t get away with this, Jenkins,” replied
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There are others that know.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked straight into Mayor Jenkins face as
he shifted his body and leaned back against the fridge for support. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t get your hopes up too much,” laughed
Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You see, we already know about
the squeaky wheel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What, you think
Satsumo didn’t hear that Bob was blabbering about the Purple Apple to George
Davis?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis tried to look unfazed by this revelation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he started to understand what George was
trying to imply the other day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew
about all this shit that had been happening over the past few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For all Travis knew, George himself may have
been involved in it, been on Satsumo’s payroll all along.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Fuck,” Travis whispered under his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t want to hurt that little noggin on top
of your shoulders,” he said as he shook the gun in his face. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nah, you got it all wrong, Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Officer Davis may have known something about Satsumo’s
enterprises, but he didn’t play the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And, that is why George Davis is now cat food!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a moment to pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you like the gun, Travis?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you recognize it?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mayor Jenkins couldn’t control his emotions any longer
and laughed until his face turned purple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although Travis was unaware of George’s unfortunate demise, nonetheless,
he picked up on the subtle references.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>George was dead and that was his issued revolver that Jenkins had
bludgeoned him with over the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Things were starting to make a little more sense.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, let me guess, you are going to shoot me with
Officer Davis’ revolver and blame it on him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that correct?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wow, for a shrink, you catch on quick, Dr. Owens,”
laughed Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You should have been
there to see George beg for his life and squeal like a pig as we butchered him
alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You should have seen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hilarious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After he died we lowered his fat ass into the
fish grinder.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew Jenkins was lying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George may have been a fat bastard and a bad
husband, but he would die a million deaths rather than beg for mercy or squeal
like a pig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, he had known George
his whole life and never once saw him back down from a fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Officer Davis would spit in the face of death
and laugh at his tormentors rather than give them any satisfaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You may have killed George, and that may be his gun,”
responded Travis, “But he would never have begged for mercy, even if it meant
his death!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mayor Jenkins shrugged his shoulders and pulled back
the trigger of the revolver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah,
you’re right Travis,” replied Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“He may not have begged for mercy or cried out, but he sure felt the
agony as we hacked his body into pieces and threw him into the fish
grinder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what do you think was going
through his feeble little mind as his body dangled from a fishhook?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis remained calm as Jenkins lowered the gun to
within inches of his left eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t
know, why don’t you tell me?” he said calmly.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins un-cocked the gun and leaned further back into
the kitchen chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis secretly
fantasized that the fat bastard would lean back too far, break the chair and
crack his head open upon the floor.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,” responded Jenkins triumphantly, “as George
dangled about on the fishhook inside Miller’s Fish Factory, he had to realize
his fate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, come on, even that fat
idiot had to fathom the bleakness of his situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Miller’s Fish Factory,” said Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hmm, I should have guessed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old man Miller was a good man, was well
respected by his employees and most of the islanders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too bad his son ran the business into the
toilet and sold out to a Japanese investor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And let me guess,” he said as a light bulb
went off in his head, “headquarter central for Satsumo enterprises?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yep,” smiled Jenkins. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Everyone was in on it but you stupid fucking
idiots!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all made money, that is
everyone except the three of you dingbats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, don’t despair, we’re going to throw Lieutenant Sterling’s ass into
the fish grinder after you’re dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
know, I’m kind of sorry that both you didn’t end up in the grinder together.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins hesitated for a moment before he
continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, I know what you are
thinking, Travis, and I applaud your efforts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You figure that I will sooner or later slip up and make a mistake,
giving you the opportunity to knock me down and take my gun and then you and
your butt buddy, Robert will be off to Millers.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, that is not going to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This really is the end of the road for you
and your family line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to
give you any false hope, Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one
knows that I am here and unfortunately the cavalry isn’t waiting outside the
front door ready to bust in and save your ass.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He sat there motionless on the kitchen floor patiently waiting for
Jenkins to make the slightest mistake.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But, Travis,” continued Jenkins, “before I put a
bullet through your brain, I thought I would rock your world with one more bit
of unsettling news.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“What more could you tell me that I already don’t
know?” asked Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hell, the cat is
out of the bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What, are you going to
tell me that you guys are selling the tainted organs to Burger King or grinding
it up and putting it into our Tim Horton’s coffee?</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins chuckled under his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was funny and would be utterly hysterical
to think of actually doing something like what Travis had just suggested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could just imagine the little kids
munching on a Whopper and challenging their friends to a fist fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would be hilarious!</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nah,” replied the jovial mayor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We had your wife and kid killed four years
ago!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">All the blood immediately drained from his face upon
hearing the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His once deadpan
expression changed to shock.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I see that I’ve now got your undivided attention,
Travis,” he said gleefully. “Now, I know what I would want to know next if I
were in your place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, your
little brain is racing a mile a minute and perhaps a little part of you may
think I’m just bluffing and just teasing you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Far, far from the truth, my dear old friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had them killed and staged to look like an
accident.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just sat there reeling from the news. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Jenkins turned his head to yawn, Travis
quickly took the initiative, reached out and grabbed a large shard of glass,
careful not to draw any attention to his movements. Fortunately, his actions
were protected by the darkness of the room as he discreetly slid the sharp
object beneath his right leg.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Stalling for time and the right moment to attack,
Travis asked the inevitable question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What are you trying to say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Someone intentionally ran into my wife?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Is that what you are trying to tell me?” he asked in disbelief.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, boy, you do catch on fast,” laughed Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, and the irony of the whole situation
is that the drunk driver was Satsumo’s nephew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know, the one you got into a fight with over a decade ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one you beat to a pulp for illegally
dumping toxic waste into the water. You know, in one way it really was an
accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were the intended victim,
not your wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nephew was just
supposed to force you off the road, but he was too damn drunk and ended up
crashing his SUV in the process.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was transfixed by every word that escaped Jenkins fat lips.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins continued his rant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Didn’t it ever occur to you, or didn’t you
ever question anything about the drunk driver?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean, had my family just been killed by vehicular manslaughter from a
drunk driver, hell I would want to know more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis, the bastard didn’t even serve his full sentence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I’m not correct, the Asian prick only served
a few months behind bars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hello, earth
calling!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Listen, Travis, your family was run off the
road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t have a fucking chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, the bastard drove straight for them.”
Jenkins pointed his gun into thin air like he was giving directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It must have been almost comical in a
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two screaming at the top of
their lungs as the SUV drove straight towards them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh no, please don’t hit us!” he laughed as he
shrugged his shoulders and contorted his face.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“But, why?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I would say that it wasn’t personal, but it was,”
laughed Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Evidently Satsumo had
some beef to settle with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
know if you know this about him, but he holds grudges, some that go back decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just time to settle this score.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Out of the corner of his eye, Travis thought he
spotted a shadowy object moving just outside the kitchen door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was imagination, maybe it was the
beast wanting to say goodbye or then again, perhaps it was one of Jenkins’
accomplices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the case, he knew that
he had to do something now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis
slowly grabbed the piece of glass under his right leg and started to cough in
an attempt to clear his throat.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A faint jingling of two keys slapping together just
outside the kitchen door was just the diversion that Travis needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenkins quickly stood up and pointed the
revolver towards the direction of the sound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When he did that, Travis jabbed the four-inch shard of glass into
Jenkin’s left ankle with all his might lodging it deep into his tibia.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Surprised and in horrific pain, Jenkins dropped the
revolver onto the floor just as someone came bursting through the unlocked
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis quickly grabbed the 38, stood up and
jabbed it into Jenkins’ check.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“About time you finally showed up you lazy bastard,”
shouted Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was starting to think
that I was a dead man.” Travis shoved Jenkins back into the kitchen chair with
both of his hands. “Sit down, you fucking piece of shit,” he yelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Time for payback!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis looked at his best friend and nodded his
head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How did you know I was in
trouble?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert placed his revolver back into his holster and
walked over to the fridge to get a beer, briefly turning his head in the
direction of Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see you have
a nice chunk of glass sticking out of your ankle there, Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope it don’t hurt too bad,” he said
sarcastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Grabbing a cold Budweiser, he deftly gave the top a
quick twist, threw the cap at Jenkins and proceeded to take a long swig from
the glass bottle. “Man, I needed that,” he shouted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Wow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is good,” he said as he placed the bottle on top of the open fridge.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert turned his attention to Travis and replied,
“Yeah, Bob called me about 45 minutes ago and said that your life may be in
danger because of all the shit he told us earlier today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Told me to meet him at Millers’ tomorrow
around 11:00 AM and bring any friends that happened to show up this
evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess he was referring to
Mayor Jenkins?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hesitated for a
moment to notice the gash on Travis’ hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Hey, you know you’re bleeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May
need some stiches.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Probably do,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, do you mind shutting the fridge.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t wait for a response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked over to the kitchen entrance and
flipped on the light switch and turned his attention to Jenkins.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Jenkins, this is going to hurt you more than you can
imagine,” grinned Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not like
you don’t have it coming!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good news
is that we’re not going to kill you, but the bad news is that I’m going to hurt
you really bad for what you’ve done to me and my family!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis placed the revolver on the kitchen countertop
and proceeded to open the top drawer next to the utensils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached in and grabbed a roll of duct tape
from the back of the drawer and threw it over to Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I give you the honors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make sure you tie him up nice and tight for
the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t want him escaping
before tomorrow.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You know you can’t do this!” screamed Jenkins in a
panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am the mayor!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are the law!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t do this!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Actually, we can technically hold you for a while, or
until the jail opens up tomorrow morning,” replied Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And, besides, you are now a criminal, a
fugitive from the law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, you broke
into this house with a gun and tried to kill Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, we could haul your ass down tonight,
but I want you to squirm all night long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You can think about all the shit you have done recently and let that
sink in real slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think about what your
co-workers and city officials will say about you in the newspapers and on the
local news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may wish that you had
died tonight.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“A stolen gun from a dead police officer,” interjected
Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took a moment to look
directly into the frightened eyes of the mayor. “It can and will be traced back
to George Davis.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“They killed George?” yelled Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“That is what this fat bastard said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No reason not to believe him now, especially
after all the events of the past seven days,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“When I get out of here I will see to it that you both
are put in jail for the rest of your life,” screamed Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is kidnapping!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you hear me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need medical attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve got a fucking piece of glass in my leg!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jenkins had never been so terrified in his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t believe that the circumstances of
events had changed so quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ten
minutes ago, he was the one holding the gun, and five minutes ago he was the
one sitting in the catbird seat grinning from ear to ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What in the hell had happened and how was he
going to get himself out of this mess?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Satsumo would surely kill him for screwing up so badly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lastly, how was he going to be able to sit in
a chair, tied up all night long with a shard of glass sticking out of his tibia
while bleeding all over the floor? </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Tie him up good and tight, and wrap some tape abound
his fat mouth,” yelled Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t
want to hear him blubbering all night like some injured walrus.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So, you want to leave him all night tied up to this
kitchen chair?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure, why not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hell, not more than ten minutes ago this bastard broke into my house and
tried to kill me,” replied Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What
would you have me do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make a bed for him
upstairs and tuck him in?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, why
don’t I read him a bedtime story first?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ok, ok, I get the sarcasm,” said Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll tie him up tight for the evening and
gag him, so we can get some sleep.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come on, let’s get some rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big, big day tomorrow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to bed,” said Travis as he slowly
walked out of the room and up the stairs towards his bedroom.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">CHAPTER 13</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three men drove along Highway 6 heading east
towards Angio Rustico on their way to meet up with Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it was just a short distance from
Cabot, the Monday morning drive seemed to take forever. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The half inch of snow from the previous night and
the complete lack of sleep didn’t make it any easier on the weary travelers.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis reached over with his left hand and pressed the
black window lever just a bit to allow some air into the SUV. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fresh brisk morning air felt good on his
face as the car roared down the road towards its destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took the opportunity to check out the
mayor in the back seat as he sat there slouched over, withering from the pain
in his right ankle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, Jenkins
had discretely tried to remove the glass by himself, but it proved a far more
difficult task than he had anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis figured that it would have to been seen and extracted by a
professional who knew what they were doing rather than by a bumbling fool like
Jenkins.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Maybe, if Jenkins could have pulled out the glass, he
could have attacked Travis and slit his throat and thrown the car into a nearby
snow bank giving him enough time to escape the vehicle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t know what he would do after that or
where he would run to or for that matter, he didn’t know if he could hobble
away in his current condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenkins
realized that his plan sounded asinine, but he needed some hope and any plan
was better than no plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, the
unlikelihood of him overpowering the two captors in the front seat using just
his bare hands and escaping to safety was a fantasy. If only he possessed the
moxie and the know-how to delicately extract the shard from his leg, he would
be able to fix this whole debacle. Of this he was somewhat certain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You know you don’t have to do this, dude,” said Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hell, I can book him for attempted murder
and keep you completely out of everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Once we go down this path, there is no way coming back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you hear me?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Even with his slight headache and the throbbing pain
in his right hand, he was able to navigate the black ice and snow drifts from
Sunday evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, no one had
bothered to salt or plow the roads this morning, making the travel a bit more
treacherous. Travis quickly looked at Mayor Jenkins in the rearview mirror to
see if he was paying attention to the conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His petrified expression said it all.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, Robert,” he replied with a slow and somber voice.
“I’ve got to do this, not just for me and the others on the Island, but for
Jill and Brice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure they would want
me to right the wrong.”</span></b><br />
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<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, but we could drop this piece of shit off at the
police station and have Miller’s raided later this afternoon,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Right now, you are technically kidnapping
the mayor.”</span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis turned his head and said, “You know, he’s not
the Mayor once he broke the law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s just
another criminal in my book and besides, knowing what we already know, don’t
you think Satsumo has others on his payroll at the station?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, probably half of the city council members
and even The Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts are on his payroll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t take that chance!”</span></b><br />
<br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No one spoke for the next ten minutes until they reached
Millers Fish Factory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they slowly
rolled into the driveway, Jenkins looked out of the window and noticed only two
other cars parked near the entrance of the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides those vehicles, the parking lot was eerily
vacant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He recognized the black limo but
had no clue as to the owner of the other black SUV. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He only knew that all hell was going to break
loose and bodies were going to start piling up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It would take a miracle for him to keep his job, let alone get out
alive.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The car came to a grinding halt a few feet from the
black limo as Travis yanked on the emergency brake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more out of habit than necessity as
the vehicle was equipped with four rotors rather than rear drum brakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, it was routine, something
Travis learned from his father when he first started driving and something that
he never forgot to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned off the
car and looked at Robert.</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“We go in there,” he said, “and there is a good chance
that we’ll never come out alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who
knows what Satsumo has up his sleeve or how many goons are standing just behind
that door over there ready to sucker punch us or put a few bullets in our heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that matter, Robert, we really don’t know
if this isn’t all just a set up.”</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, what are you trying to say, Travis?” asked Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t think we can trust Bob?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You think he is setting us up?”</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“No, I trust that crazy bastard even though I’ve only known him for less
than a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I guess what I am trying
to say is that I am going in there one way or the other with the fat bastard in
the rear seat as my human shield.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
got to do this for me.”</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert didn’t hesitate before he responding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, I’m going in there with you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned his head to the mayor in the back
seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now Mayor, I realize that we have
absolutely no hope of shutting down this Botox franchise industry, but we are
going to put a stop to the new killings on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, kiss your pension goodbye and get ready
for jail because you and all the other corrupt fuckers are done.”</span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’ll never stop Yuramiti Enterprises or the Purple
Apple craze in Asia,” replied Jenkins under his breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What they are doing is not illegal over
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, it may be cruel and
inhumane treatment of the wildlife around the island, but it’s not something
that other pharmaceutical companies haven’t been doing for decades.”</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert emitted a short laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hah!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What, are we going to get? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A life
lecture on the principals of morality?” he asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, it may not be illegal, but what you
did was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking bribes and looking the
other way as a duly elected official is considered somewhat illegal,” yelled Robert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And don’t forget about attempted murder,” said Travis
sarcastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And, if the shit about
George Davis is true, hell that throws another charge on top of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it’s called being an accomplice to
murder?”</span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis just couldn’t control his anger anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He leaned back and slammed his injured fist
square into Jenkins’ nose as hard as he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The cartilage in his nose shattered into fragments from the blunt force
as pools of blood instantly gushed from both his swollen nostrils.</span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Mayor Jenkins immediately placed both hands over his
nose in a vain attempt to stop the blood flow from his open wounds with no
luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more pressure he applied, the
more it bled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the fuck did you do
that for?” he screamed out in pain.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis didn’t feel like he needed to explain, at least
not to a dirty politician like Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Both he and Robert exited the vehicle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You got the gun?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis patted his jacket pocket with his bandaged
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, just hoping that I never
have to use it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never shot a revolver in
all my life,” he said as he opened the rear driver side door for Mayor Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get out of the car you piece of shit,” he
shouted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not waiting for Jenkins to
respond, Travis grabbed the back of his down jacket and tugged him forcefully
from the car almost throwing him to the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Let’s go,” he said pointing to the office door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And pick it up you limping bastard, don’t
want you falling behind and missing all the fun.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three men made their way through the frozen ground
and up the stairs to the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small
sign was tapped to the front of the wooden door that read, “Closed.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t provide any other tidbits of
information or give a reason for the shop being closed on a Monday. Perhaps
they were busy renovating the dive or maybe business was so slow that they had
to close the shop and lay off all the employees. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really didn’t matter to Travis, he only
knew he needed to go inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached
for the door, turned to Mayor Jenkins and said, “You first, Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t want any surprises waiting for us
behind door number one!” </span></b><br />
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<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He turned the knob and pushed Jenkins through the
threshold of the door, half expecting a hail of gunfire slicing through the
mayors’ upper torso, but that only happened in the movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis and Robert withdrew their guns and
entered right behind the mayor using him as a shield against any incoming
bullets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, no one was standing
behind the door waiting to surprise them, however, someone had been waiting for
them in the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, karma
has a way of dispensing its own justice! </span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Two dead Asian assassins lay crumpled upon the frigid concrete
floor in the direct middle of the room with fresh gunshots to their heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were facing each other on the floor as
if they were talking when someone took them by surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their guns were still holstered, and it
appeared that they were enjoying a morning cigarette before they were
murdered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, they knew the
killer or killers and weren’t expecting someone to plant a bullet into the
backs of their skulls!</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">No telling how long these Yakuza gang members had been
waiting for Travis and Robert to appear, perhaps minutes or hours before they
even arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t recognize
either of the men, but Jenkins instantly knew who they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He removed his hands from his bloody nose and
said, “They were Satsumo’s bodyguards.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis was shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was the first time that he had seen someone murdered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This shit is starting to get real,” he
mumbled.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You ok?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah,” he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I guess, in the back of my mind I kind of figured this would get really
ugly, but you really can’t prepare yourself for something like this.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, I know, but let’s get this done,” said Robert as
he pointed to the office door in the back of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was starting to become impatient. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If Bob did his homework, this will end today,
one way or the other.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“And if he didn’t?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Then we are all dead men,” said Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The three walked to the back of the room carefully
avoiding the fresh pools of blood oozing from the open head wounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no dis-colorization of the blood
and no signs of coagulation, consequently Robert guessed that the two had been
shot at close range just a few moments before their arrival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The poor suckers didn’t even see it coming!</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis reached the rear office door, turned the knob, pushed
it open and came face to face with Nuraki Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was holding a black 45-millimeter Smith
& Wesson semi-automatic pistol with a 4-inch silencer that was pointed
directly at his stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It smelled of
fresh gun powder and Travis take his eyes off the sleek object which now
mesmerized him like a King Cobra ready to strike its victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One slight flick of the trigger and Travis
was a dead man! </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Although the cylindrical object scared the living shit
out of Travis, the hypnotic allure of its design and function was intoxicating,
even for someone facing the wrong end of the stick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis realized that if the Asians wanted to
kill them, they would surely all be dead by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yuramiti was not alone, he had two other thugs along
with an albino lady to watch his back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He lowered his gun and placed it on the table just behind Meitsu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis didn’t know if this were some sort of
trick or if in fact this was a genuine gesture of peace.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Gentlemen, please come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been expecting you,” said Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My name is Nuraki Yuramiti and this is my
only daughter, Meitsu.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He respectively
bowed to the three visitors and motioned for them to enter the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please close the door behind you,” he said.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Robert and Travis put their guns away and walked into
the room with Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, you’re not
going to kill us?” asked Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Kind of a stupid question since you already put your
guns away,” laughed Nuraki.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If I were a
man without honor I would lie to you and then have you killed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, since I live my life with a code of
values, I would never stoop so low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Actually, you and your friends have helped me clean my house and for
that, I am truly grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have my
beloved daughter back and now understand the full depths of betrayal and deception
that has plagued my family for the past five years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having said that, I still have some
unfinished business,” he said pointing to the cold metal cutting table at the
end of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The table was covered
with a white sheet and was obviously hiding something underneath the
fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What that was, no one knew
except Nuraki and Meitsu.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yuramiti hesitated for a second or two before he
continued. “Now, whether you live or die really depends on the decisions you
make today. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to end this with extreme
prejudice and I need your cooperation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If you help me, I will help you,” he said patting Meitsu on the
shoulders.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you mind if we take a seat?” asked Travis as he
pointed towards the empty office chairs up against the wall facing the office
door.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Please, help yourself,” he replied as he motioned for
them to sit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you need a towel or
something for your associate?” he asked looking at Jenkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see he is bleeding badly from his nose.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“That won’t be necessary,” piped in Robert as he
shoved Jenkins into the empty seat next to him. “Sit down and shut your pie
hole.” he said as he smacked Jenkins on the back of the head. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Now, if you would let me continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will personally take care of Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The experiments on the sea creatures and all
the whaling expeditions off the coast of PEI will stop immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On that, I give you my word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May I ask, what did Bob tell you about the
Purple Apple?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis cleared his throat before answering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Everything.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I assumed so,” replied Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lowered his head in shame and in a very
solemn voice he said, “I know it doesn’t sound right or pretty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes one does things without considering
the consequences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How this all started
over a decade ago, should never have happened, but it did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today the product that we have created and
trademarked sells all over Asia and employs thousands of workers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We produce a product that millions want and need,
and we no longer need to kill or infect any new animals.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You did all that just to produce a Botox knock-off? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All for money?” asked Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s not just a knock-off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s far stronger and superior with a longer
lasting effect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, yes, we did it for
money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when you think of the many
different applications and how it has helped people with migraines, and chronic
pain, with depression and with people that have cerebral palsy, and the list
goes on and on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a miracle drug!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yeah, but it’s still just a knock off,” interjected Robert.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Again, you both are correct,” replied Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But isn’t acetaminophen and Tylenol or Advil
just a knock off of Bayer Aspirin?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sure, but Aspirin is produced naturally, from Willow
bark, not from one of the deadliest toxins on the planet,” said Travis.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yuramiti just stood there looking at the three seated
men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m not here to debate semantics on
the effects of injecting poisonous substances into our bodies and I’m not here
to ask for your permission to produce and sell the Purple Apple,” replied
Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“As I previously stated, we no
longer need to export animal organs from PEI to Japan to produce our drug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all done in the laboratories now, behind
closed glass and carefully regulated by our national drug agency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s cheaper than Botox and far stronger.” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, what do you need from us?” asked Travis as he sat
there glaring at Meitsu.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I need you to look the other way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need you to forget everything that has
happened,” replied Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, I
know what we do or did is seriously frowned upon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, I understand that killing is against
the law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, what is worse?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kill those that are killing or just a slap them
on the wrist? The Purple Apple will survive with or without you.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t really understand where you are going with
this,” said Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Yuramiti took the opportunity to sit down in the empty
chair next to Travis. “Let me spell it out for you, my friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have a cockroach lying on a table over
there not more than twenty feet away,” he said pointing to the end of the
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“At one time I considered him to
be my closest friend and would have given him almost anything he needed or
wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In return, I find out that he
stabbed me in the back with the banks in Tokyo and had the nerve to sic the
Yakuza on me and my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stole the
ownership of my company in Japan and defiled my daughter,” he said angrily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, that man is a cockroach!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’ve got Satsumo tied up under the sheet over
there?” asked Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was surprised,
but knew that Satsumo must have been somewhere inside the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The limo and the two dead henchmen in the
other room gave it away.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes, do you want to tell him something?” smiled
Yuramiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here, come with me,” he said
as he stood up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The rest of you can sit
and wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe that this is for
Travis and his eyes only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of
therapy for the psychologist if you get my meaning.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">They both walked to the end of the room while the
others waited in silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis’ pulse
became irregular and beat faster and faster as each foot slapped the cold
concrete floor awakening the beast within.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travis wanted to run over to the table and snatch the sheet and throw it
to the ground and look into the eyes of the man who stole his wife and child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To every beginning, there awaits its end as
every high comes with a low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years,
this man had buried himself inside his subconscious, had infected Travis with
fear and depression and had mocked his entire existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a killer, a thief, a child molester and
everything that Travis despised in the world and he was a few feet away from
justice.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis wanted to grab him by the throat and squeeze his
windpipe shut while scratching his eyeballs with a rusty nail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to see him swell up with fear as
Travis slit open his chest with a scalpel and plunge his fist into the incision
angrily clutching his organs and sending his body into convulsions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to burn the skin off his feet with
a blowtorch while throwing salt onto the wounds, but more than anything else,
Travis wanted him to feel the pain that he had suffered for the past five
years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">When they got to the stainless-steel gurney, Yuramiti
took the honor of grabbing the white sheet with his hand and flinging it to the
ground, exposing the naked body of Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was bound and gagged, and his body showed serious signs of physical
abuse from the hands of his captors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yuramiti had carefully tied his hands behind his back and bound his legs
in rolls of heavy-duty fish line that dug into his skin every time he squirmed
on the cold steel table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mouth was
wrapped in duct tape to conceal the screams of pain that bellowed from his
throat as his captors pulverized his body with planks of wood they had broken
off the nearby pallets.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The mere thought of all the torture that this body had
endured nauseated Travis to the very core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, the coup de grace that caused him to almost vomit his innards
was the sight of the giant meat hook sticking out of the groin area. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone had jammed the rusty meat hook
straight into Satsumo’s ball sack and severed his penis in half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even for Travis, a man bound on revenge, this
was overkill.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“So, this is the man that has ruined so many lives,”
said Travis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The man that cheated the
sumo profession out of millions, the bastard that jokingly killed off thousands
of innocent animals in and out of the water, and this is the man who killed my
dreams.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travis just shook his head in disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t look anything like the terrible
beast in his mind, rather a frightened naked little man who knew he was going
to die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The desire to rip this animal
apart with his bare hands dissolved as Travis gazed into his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Goodbye asshole,” he mumbled under his
breath. “See you in hell!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">At that exact moment, Travis knew the beast would
never bother him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would be free
of the torment that plagued him every night since the death of his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing Satsumo dying on the table brought
closure to his inner demon.</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“The question I put before you, Travis, is this. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you look the other way, put what you have
suffered in the past, and let me and my colleagues rid the world of this
cockroach?” </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis nodded his head twice and said, “Yes, but tell
me, what are you going to do with him?”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t worry about that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After you leave the building we will torture
him a few more hours before we cut him up and throw him piece by piece into the
fish grinder,” he said smiling at Satsumo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I hear Purina cat food can’t get enough of that Asian fish flavor.”</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis smiled and chuckled to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, he thought to himself, cats really do
love the flavor of Asian men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Travis smiled at Yuramiti, turned to Robert and said, “Come
on guys, let’s get out of here before someone changes his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We still need to drop this piece of shit off
at the police station.”</span></b><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
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<br /></div>
Stephaney Margettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17021404642186799612noreply@blogger.com0