Once Upon a Time in Nottoway

A Child Is Born

Once upon a time on a tree covered alpine hillside, many long years ago, there was a small, serene cottage home nestled comfortably on a grassy ledge, overlooking a shallow ravine, where a crystal creek purled right through its center. The cozy cottage was owned by the Johanson family, of whom the man was a community doctor. The wife was a humble local accountant, enjoying the rich social atmosphere found among the staff who were employees at the local central academy down the road eight kilometers away or so, with a rich social atmosphere always dominating the scene to every outsider’s surprise..To most shocked observers on the outside, the social atmosphere at the central academy resembled a soap opera of one sort or another, assuming that they possessed any knowledge of it to begin with. In this environment everyone put on airs and pretended to be of a strict, elitist moral character, when in reality very few actually were.

As a matter of fact, the staff and administration at the academy pretended to celebrate personal development, since personal achievement was the sole justification for the school being located there inside this local community in the first place. An exclusive experience commenced there from inside that pleasantly tidy cottage, yanking out the truth from among the staff and betraying honest feelings of the administration toward personal progress. Which also, in turn, explained why nearly every subject taught there at that academy was masqueraded as holding opportunity, when in fact, almost none at all did, lending the scenario more toward one of a corrupted extortion intending to separate the students from their hard won financial resources.

You see, the doctor was also an investor; a real-estate investor and general speculator, and everybody all around town knew well of it. Up until now, however, most of his investments failed to produce much of a yield. He would beget a few extra dividends from his rental properties, a few more yields from his product sells, an additional few from his second mortgage investments maybe from time to time., but such was about it. One day., all of that was to change., seemingly overnight to everyone’s great shock and surprise.

On the other side of the mountain sat the small hamlet town of Goose-Lick, where the doctor purchased an abandoned auto-repair shop at a dramatic discount, which was an honest trait common to his character., and in time this shop commenced to really prosper. This newly found prosperity was going on for ten years now., and increased by the month, so it seemed to both his family and the surrounding community, though the kind doctor was not one to make all of his personal business intentionally known. Instead the gentle doctor was found always living true to his favorite moral saying, never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.

Then one day, a really wealthy man from far away outside of this quiet hamlet dropped by. Some said he hailed from the big city of crystal glass mountains and neon lights, where the northern display high up in the midnight sky could be readily viewed on a regular basis. This wealthy man decided to offer the doctor an extraordinary amount in exchange for his rather mundane auto-repair shop. Matter of fact, the amount was more than ten times the value the doctor paid for the establishment, initially., but the doctor was very wise. Most of the local population claimed in smug envious condemnation, where they would have been satisfied with the deal right there as it was, so therefore, their tainted condemning conclusion was where the kind doctor suffered from the sin of greed.

The doctor saw opportunity from the out-of-state man’s eagerness to own his property, however, so he worked out an agreement where in addition to the money for the investment, he would also net a ten percent royalty every month from the business profits. Should the business ever sell, then he would reap ten percent from that transaction and all those future from the time. In addition, the new owner would bear the same sort of royalty obligations as well, as would the new one following him. In this manner, he managed to farm the property out rather than simply kill the goose that laid the golden egg, as the locals seemed to begrudgingly suggest where he held some unwritten moral obligation to do. Of course while the family appreciated the kind attention, the newspapers publishing a front page account of a person’s new-found wealth, honestly did not appear to assist his local relationships out very much.

Ordinarily such prosperity and fortune from a neighbor generated salutations of good luck and happiness from one’s coworkers, , and dear friends. Contrary to logic, it was to be observed where something strange in this close knit community occurred following the announcement of one families’ personal progress in the local paper. Instead the sensations now radiating outward from the locals surrounding were definitely not the same anymore, so it began to feel within the Johanson household.

At work his accountant wife noticed a smug coldness suddenly emanating from her coworkers she never recalled taking notice of before. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it was almost as if she, as an individual., suddenly did not exist, like she had now transformed into a ghost on the wall, she imagined. She was astounded from a realization where all reaction was, as if., she committed some vile offense of one sort or another. These were all people whom she had known for the duration of her entire life, and the feeling presently was becoming one more of heartbreak and hurt, than cheers of congratulation or salutations. Her response was to convince herself that the antagonizing atmosphere was only temporary, and to surround herself within a hard shell of self protection, until the ominous cloud passed.

The problem in this approach was where more than a few years had passed by now, and the negative atmosphere was still yet alive, well, and thriving. For instance, she was up for a raise in both pay and promotion. To be promoted also meant she would receive benefits and placed on a retirement schedule; able to build a really tidy nest egg, so to speak. Her supervisor, the troll king president, also an older individual who she had known all her life, and one more who had suddenly silenced himself toward her.., requested for her to step inside his personal office for a moment upon receiving her application. He only read the application as he glared down upon her from above antique spectacles somehow sliding down upon his hooked, glistening nose, and his face bearing a most sinister sneer that he unsuccessfully attempted to conceal.

“I’m reading your application here., and what I see appears to be somewhat sufficient., but I just do not see the realistic justification for any of it, to speak the truth to you here as we both presently stand in the company of one another within these four walls.”

“What do you mean? I do not understand,” she then asked in earnest.

“Well., it’s like this. Some times we must ask ourselves what are we about around here? Do we support individual , or are we only about our own personal gain? Are we caring and compassionate, or do we only want to add more of the nice pie into a stacked plate we already have sitting before us,” he said to her?

“What?,” she snapped in shock and surprise. “What on earth are you speaking of? Just be out with it, please!”

“Well., it’s like this,” he continued to sneer. “Just what does a multimillionaire’s wife need a raise and a promotion for, if not general greed and lack of compassion for others in need?”

“Because I am in line for it and should put in for the job., that’s why,” she snapped! “It’s called, self improvement, for crying out loud around here! Is that not what we are all about here as well? Is such conviction not a sole justification for our very salary in the first place? We have the well-fare office to attend any sort of socialist concerns, for your information here!”

“Personally.,” he continued to sneer, “it’s all on that note., that I am going to decline your application for the promotion. You see, a person with access to your kind of wealth does not really need the job anyway. You are not in need of the promotion as a job, nor the raise and extra wealth generated., so I am going to reserve it for someone who does in lieu of this revelation in your attitude concerning this matter, as it has been so presented.”

Elsewhere on the premises life continued on in such ways more illustrating the point in conclusion, that maybe...just maybe, the Johanson clan needed to simply remove themselves from their presently oppressive surroundings. True self improvement appears to generate a need for the beneficiaries to make a new life elsewhere in more cases than a few, so it appears when we make our honest observations. On top of what had already taken place, there were other surrounding examples of obvious corruption serving to reinforce that conclusion.

Then there was the local technology repair instructor, for instance, an elderly, somewhat large individual, with a flowing beard of snow white, appearing more to resemble Santa Clause than anyone else. He even dressed to play Santa Clause from time to time. The gentleman was long since retired from years of fighting wars and various conflicts, but held a casual cheerful demeanor about himself, which everyone truly enjoyed being around.

The technology instructor employed an assistant instructor, who always labored diligently by his side, offering his helpful interjections to the best of his professional ability to do so. The assistant could be most pleasant to work around, but also was very confrontational when he felt the need to be so. The quality of his work was extraordinary, however, to say the very least. This man’s creative abilities allowed him to design complete computer programs and even moving, working., nay I should say, even the most delicate of robots., some even bearing extremely realistic likenesses of the female gender and others, such as the president himself in playful jest.,in the most appealing of ways. Very few could even dare to question his personal contributions or skill here.

The assistant had a dear wife once upon a time back during those days. The wife turned very sour toward him for his long absence from home, at work. In time, she found another man who promised her the moon, the stars, and a royal serving of rainbow caviar, on a decorate’ silver platter. She took him up on his offer and flew away with him on a magic carpet., to a land far, far into the beyond. In time, even the glitz that this supposed genie had to offer her, could not keep her there inside his bottle with him., so she wished herself right back upon the homemade brick door steps of her former husband’s modest cottage home.

Her former husband then did the right thing, however. He told her he had fitted a new style of souped up motor onto the latest version of an old time stick sweeper, and told her the very best thing she could do right now would be to kick start it, then take a spin around the universe for a while. Even though she only continued to stand there all alone on his doorstep, crying in the rain, he eventually closed the door and simply ignored her from that point onward, hoping in silence where even the purest of dung would simply melt away right there in the pouring rain!

The assistant was determined to have a life in-spite of his adversity, so he takes a ride out into the surrounding countryside and finds a glittering fairy princess. In due course of time, this fairy princess eventually invites him in to abide with her inside an emerald fairy castle nestled deep within the enchanted forest somewhere; so like any true red blooded man of the saltire cloth, he did so. The two then lived happily ever after, for a delightful time, that is.

In time, however, adversity was to rear it’s ugly face again. The troll king of the central academy caught wind of the assistant’s happy arrangement, from a chirping sparrow floating merrily upon a mid day breeze, then dared to call him into his office for a private consultation. The end result was where the assistant exploded in anger toward the troll king, who dared to question him concerning the perceived morality of his living arrangement, and the kind troll king then terminated his employment status right there on the spot for doing so. The jilted assistant never dared return to the premises again, except when the price in his personal gain for his special expertise, was very substantial for doing so. Few among those who cherished fortitude blamed him for it, and we do truly mean there were only a teeny tiny few, from the very bottom of our cheerful hearts.

Most, in-fact, held a great fear extending beyond all valid reasoning, for the world outside of our little hamlet here, and any evaluations failing to substantiate that invalid fear were held in strict disregard, no matter who it was holding them out to offer.

The cheerful technology instructor, who was once employed as a gallant knight fearlessly riding forward into battle, had a dear fairy wife and some nine, fair haired children born unto him. All of the children were raised up righteously inside the confines of the local cathedral; learning the golden rule, learning the sacred commandments of ten, how to behave, walk, and talk. As his dear wife labored away inside the kitchen at home and in her employment away from the house, a certain troll princess from somewhere way out in the countryside, suddenly appeared inside the literature department right there at the central academy of valid reason held in strict disregard. He was immediately enraptured by her very presence and strangely enough, she by his. While it is a fact where he was enraptured by the slim, well toned curvature of her enticing body, because as do most trolls, she did not have much to offer directly in the face; she was enraptured more by the steady flow of gold from his past retirement allowance, since well educated mannerism nor kosher personality and appearance, were much to the ex-knight’s forte.

A strange thing about this situation was that even though the same informing sparrow chirped every minute of every live long day, the righteous troll king neglected to even acknowledge the situation, preferring instead, to pretend that his staff would never stoop to such a despicable level of conduct when asked anything about it, and even aggressively saying so publicly in words, when he felt it was in his own best interests to do so. His responsive actions now give great credibility to the statement that something to be hidden is best done so right there in plain sight!

Then there was the local black smith instructor, endeavoring to assail the ranks of this gilded academic establishment. He was indeed an excellent instructor, preaching the necessity of maintaining a healthy moral character, right along with the prized shop skill that he taught. He brazenly chastised others in all of their shortcomings, even to a point of proudly declaring where all of these proud folks deserved their misfortunes by right of their infidelities.

His intelligence level was somewhat higher than a majority of the others surrounding him at least, where such may be deduced by superficial observation. He was aware of this fact in himself, and he arrogantly reasoned where he was totally in control of all, having any future possibility for negative situations under tight, absolutely controlled wraps. He held to a deep dark secret, however, that only he knew of and the individuals thus involved, so he invalidly reasoned.

You see, he was wed to the doctors’ wife’s cousin, who told her of all his brazen misdeeds in the neighboring hay barn with the dizzy peroxide blond down the street, the middle of the corn field at late mid-night with the fat lady wearing the near butch, GI haircut, who owns the florist shop immediately across from the wedding cake baker and the scented candle stick maker; in the parking lot of the local tobacco ware-house jamboree during the fall farmer’s day festival, with the native lady wearing the long flowing, waist length jet black hair, and a number of other places much too risque for making mention of here, even in these pages. According to her, there was the secretary right there inside the main office, very young, with long hair the color of freshly mined Virginia coal, dressing pleasantly and appearing to hail from one of the gypsy caravans tending to drift through this small hamlet town during the spring and fall seasons of the yearly cycle.

There were also a number of unchaste fellow instructors whom he enjoyed meeting in secluded corners, including the troll princess teaching literature, but these were all deep dark secrets no one dared not even whisper about in public nor in private, mainly from fear of arousing anger in Santa Clause or his dear wife back home in the North Pole. The sparrow tweeted dark secrets into the kind troll kings’ beholding ear, and he must have investigated and listened very attentively, with a certain tainted eagerness tending to arouse his quiet interest, we shall deductively figure here.

When the instructor applied for an administrative position to sufficiently upgrade his professional standing and his future retirement position, even though he was way more than merely qualified in every way, he was denied the position consistently due to his questionable moral character; and of course, an informative note was placed directly into his personnel file to validate that fact. Such notes were not placed into his primary personnel file, mind you, but into his secondary administrative file held on all institutional personnel, reserved solely by the academy for their own exclusive administrative review, available to any other institution only by written administrative request. This asinine note was the true reason he remained only a simple black smith instructor, until the very day of his retirement, with his retirement remaining only a meager two thirds of his basic wage, without any benefits what-so-ever.

Then there was the very kind old lady employed as an office clerk at the information desk, always being stationed right there behind the double glass front door of the school. All of the staff called her Mrs. Susie Floozy, which we were shocked to learn was, in-fact, her true name. She may have been somewhat up in age at the time, but she carried a humming motor that simply could-not-stop, even if it wanted to, bless her dear heart.

According to the talk she had taken the entire school administrative staff for a hell benders spin, and a nice portion of the most appealing young bucks there among the student body appeared to nearly always keep her displaying a laughing, happy smile of seemingly perfect contentment. Some had even taken notice of the manner in which the honorable troll king himself suddenly perked up when Mrs. Floozy swanked on passed, him smiling toward her in some sort of silent appeal, always making time to converse with her and not ever hesitating even for a single moment, to do so in private, right there inside the administrative coordinators’ office, for heaven’s sake!

Some observers vary daringly went on inside a step farther, declaring she had conversed with him right there on top of the oval meeting table itself, justifying this declaration by an additional claim of strange laughing sounds and thrilling slapping noises emanating through the air vents far into the labyrinth of the building complex! She playfully called the troll king, El Mondo, for some reason no one among the academic staff could ever figure out, causing him to bashfully blush and smile broadly when in public, then quickly attempt to conceal from the staff and others surrounding him. The odd name appeared to be a pet nick-name, as far as any of us could ever tell. The name sounded to all of us with a pleasant enough ring, that it should suffice to label him as such from here on out in this narrative.

To speak the honest truth about all of this gossip, Mrs. Floozy actually did bear a tantalizingly fine but firmly curved figure truly justifying all of this pleasant attention. She worked out at the local gem on a regular basis, she was a dedicated member of the local aerobics club, the JC’s, the Cuannas, the singing Goose-Lick quartet swimming committee, etc. She was also a proud member of the local PTA, but such is another story for a time later on. She bore a pleasantly persuasive personality causing one to feel compelled to offer her their very best first, then and only then, would come the offer to all of the others, that is, if she turned the original offers down. The others could only remain paused to wonder as to the real reason why. Usually a generous gift from her would soon follow or would be graciously offered to persuade or convince one that choosing her for the particular acknowledgment, was most certainly a perfectly divine move made in their own best interests.

Mrs Floozy had competition, however. There was another dear angel every bit as tarnished, but not nearly as firm or calculating, so therefore always failing to maintain her status position with any sort of majestic grace or debonair, as did Mrs. Susie Floozy. This lady tended to bear lose flab in places demanding exact firmness, though she was some fifteen years younger than Mrs. Floozy. Her personality could be raspy at times, seemingly at those times when it needed to be most pleasant and appealing. Because of this fact people tended to anger at her, but held that anger deep inside until the most appropriate of times, I should say.

You see, this lady, while she had flab in places needing to remain perfectly firm, she dragged a really nice caboose, tending to magnetize all of mankind throughout the entire academy administration and the surrounding hamlet neighborhood, compelling them all to over-look her flab and sometimes foul personality simply for the opportunity to leap inside that beautiful caboose, for a most pleasant ride to boast about. Here they all could exercise their pent up anger and frustration, her toward the job and her own lack of advantage, and they toward her for her unjustified hatefulness and rude antagonism.

If the wicked troll boss ever felt like complaining about her lacking in personal qualities, all she had to do was give him a timely ride in late night seclusion, around the block a time or four, deep inside that blessed carousel caboose. With this euphoric ride he was guaranteed to remain quite about it and everything else, since the fact was well known that his little rainbow flower waiting patiently on his return home, would simply wilt right there in her dear seat, if she ever knew the real truth.

Her name was Elizabeth, but her co-workers simply called her Broom Lizzie, since she appeared to have a doe fondness from time to time, when the bucks all seemed to turn and run in spite of her very best efforts in trying to appeal; but in fact, the claim was simply rumor and a solid truth could never be determined, yet the very true fact of her keenly attentive eye could never be held in denial!

All claims aside, however, according to old King Mondo, really early on those dreary Saturday mornings in mid December and January, deep inside mankind’s corner next to the time honored wood stove, near the inside rear of old man, Nimvel Harry’s, general hardware store, she could certainly smoke the he biggest and best cabana cigar he had ever seen such a hooked nosed woman do in all of his live long days, he would boastfully declare. According to him, she would puff on it like she was mad at the entire world or something, and by doing so she somehow managed to exercise all of her raw demons; the vanilla nectar flavor resulting, causing her to become every bit as mellow and calm as a glass of pure mountain spring water! Her pronounced aggressiveness almost appeared to demand dedicated satisfaction from time to time, and the only element to induce this fulfillment was the remaining nectar flavor she appeared to deeply relish, simply judging from the tarrying expression on her face at the conclusion of her blessed performance!

She earned the name, Broom Lizzie, in other ways too, just to be fair about it. Her poor husband, all broken down from enduring be-drudging years of work and worry so lovingly generated by the affections of his dear wife, now being reduced into a wheel chair for life. Though he was still yet living, the poor chap might as well be dead as far as Broom Lizzie was concerned. The pain in his joints compelled him to load up on pills of every sort available at the time for only a slight sensation of relief, with true relief fleeing from his grasp like dust in the dry mid-summer wind. Sadly, he was bound for ever-more to the confines of a wheel chair. Though the pills could offer only a slight relief, they callously robbed him of his ability to jump into that carousel caboose, for gracious sake, and simply speaking, there was no help for him what-so-ever in the end.

She attempted to smoke the cigar most immediately near to him, hoping that the mere sight of the act in progress might generate a new found resolve, allowing him to jump into that blissful caboose once more again for old time’s sake, if for nothing else; but the act was simply of no use to her anymore and she exhausted herself in the care and effort long, long ago. So she commenced to parade her sweet caboose all around town, at first for the simple pleasure in receiving the feeling deriving from the royal treatment, and of course, the fulfilling vanilla nectar. These days, however, she was only after a most gracious allowance in gold, wrapped solidly in social and professional advancement, all of this in-spite of her nice appealing reputation and most pleasant appearance, according to those whom she came into daily contact with.

Her dear children she had long since ignored. One now a tarnished barrister seducing her most appealing clients, only living to hex them from their gold and property endowments. Another a Priest, living to persuade the nuns and even the alter boys into the Devils’ employment. Then the last, an outright herb induced purloining villain, wasting his life in a forgotten cold stone dungeon somewhere way out in nether-land. She lived to continue on as though she could care less, seldom thinking a single thought in their behalf. So it was for all of these happy qualities, that she rightfully earned her loving local name, Broom Lizzie. Matter of fact, she even ignorantly admitted to all of these claims by readily answering to being called by her local nick-name, as if it was her honest, birth given name.

Back At The Johansen Cottege

Across the narrow two rut road on the other side of the Johansen cottage, sat the quaint home of the dear Grandparents. Beside them on the same side of the road was their son, his wife, and their two children. All of them appearing to love and enjoy the companionship of the other, readily meeting over at the home of the grandparents for all of the sacred holidays. If their adoration was not genuine, then the display being made was most definitely of a highly creative nature. On many occasions their actions suggested a sliver of possibility, that the honest flow of genuine care and concern was mighty thin, especially after the windfall article was published; but then, no one dared not even speak of it by word of mouth, only doing so instead with their eyes and near telepathic thought.

It was into this small hamlet that on one starlit night in spring, a child was born onto the Johanson estate. There inside the comfortable cottage home in the bedroom closest to the fireplace, was born the gentle babe. The babe was an average child, but one deemed as having a zest for new adventure, since he only smiled and laughed upon being born, the first of his kind ever seen born by the elders. Fear of new experience did not seem to hold him within it’s grasp. Unlike any child ever seen born by the others, this child did not shed tears until he hungered, which did not take long following his birthing.

Time passed, the child interacted with the other children, soon forming bonds of friendship to be treasured for a life time. It was during this time that his exploration of the surrounding area came into being. In the ponds he viewed geese swimming with the ducks, coming to view them with personality and mannerism all of their own. Sometimes they reminded him of certain specific people, when he imagined the pond was his church congregation, or later on, his class at school.

He saw the chickens pecking around all over the landscape areas of the community in which he lived. These chickens bore another type of personality identifying them as individuals appearing to converse with one another, even gossip among them selves, becoming exceedingly greedy at times, due to the sudden prosperity of their neighbors.

As he made these observations he would walk through the meadows and pastures, observing the multicolored butterflies glinting from wild rose blossom to tulips as he walked along. Many of these creatures appeared to have heads of closely cut hair glancing his way, nodding merrily as they arose on a spring breeze, moving on from beside him as he passed.

In a small pasture near his home, immediately across the narrow road running passed his home, was a happy donkey after being employed as guard for the sheep. Many times this would walk near to the pasture, and the donkey would bray as though he were attempting to speak. Often when he did bray into the wind, holding his head high, a lone visitor approached from within the backdrop, or the skies began to cloud and the rains commenced to pour. It was almost as if the donkey were a keeper of knowledge unknown to the average person and a keeper of secrets in general, he would think to himself as he played about in the neighborhood beside the green pasture.

On Sunday morning he was almost always sitting in the seat of his local parish. The building was constructed in the typical grand cathedral style, but in a very conservative manner betraying a general lacking of funds with large inflows. Many times the place appeared to be in need of basic maintenance, and no one within could figure out how the funds were going to be appropriated, but somehow an anonymous figure always appeared to provide the required financing in the nick of time.., every time before the rain leaked through the roof or the power went out. According the rumor, the anonymous figure was surly the troll king president of the local central academy, since he took in a salary far greater than any others in the surrounding area. All of this he accomplished less than two kilometers from his small cottage farm estate.

Others claimed it was the child’s father who tended to give generously, since he possessed productive investments there in the small hamlet and in many other places up and down the mountain range. There were the investments in town such as his rental homes, his storefronts, and the like. On the edge of town he had a tree farm, some open farmland scattered throughout the province, and a growing stock account in several surrounding successful engagements; most certainly he was in need of a nice tax write off, they all said among themselves.

On Sunday morning, the child and his family passed through the wide opened wooden doors generating a very warm radiation, where everyone loved the other, hugging one another closely as they moved up and down the congregation aisle. In the fore aisle sat the local academy president, old King Mondo himself, who would at times pretend to act as preacher in his standing, since he automatically received approval of all present without needing to request it. Before he commenced with the sermon, he always moved through the crowd shaking hands, welcoming, speaking kind words of blessing from the brilliant one above, through himself and unto all of them gathering about inside the congregation. He had a way of pinching the boy children on the nerve of their neck base as he walked by, that our child here in observation never particularly liked.

The other kids called him Trapper Jack, since by the time he turned five, he had already begun to master the art of trapping wild animals for meat and fir, making his own contribution to the family table. In time, the name shortened to TJ, for the frugal purpose of conserving both breath and space on the handwritten or printed page.

Two seats down sat Mrs. Susie Floozy, often arising to speak more kind words as the congregation was being seated. She passed through the crowd, welcoming all warmly, appearing more as a local grandmother to the others than any thing else, except to the ones present who personally knew better. She often paused, paying special attention to the dear children, who would race before her with outstretched hands, begging for gifts, which she always seemed to have; such as candy, crackerjack, and dime store novelties. One time the child could recall receiving a strange powder from her, causing small pebbles to transform into large stones or multicolored rubber-like sea creatures, when dropped into a water filled aquarium or emptied pickle jar filled with water. One never knew what gift it was he would receive from good Mrs. Floozy, so it was said among the kids.

On the other side of the congregation, directly across from Mrs. Floozy, sat Broom Lizzie, always fearing being out-done by Mrs. Floozy. She would saunter in among the moving mass, forcing herself to smile, curtsying, appearing as though it were a royal pain to do so; speaking kind words of sanctified blessing as though she forced them across her hardened, dark, lavender painted lips. As she passed she carefully eyed each and every individual she chanced to encounter, as though she were in search of something unknown to the observant children. This observation was noticed, especially when she encountered the men of the community, and even more so if the men were new arrivals into the hamlet, but yet rumored to be blessed with an ever increasing abundance. Beyond that, she was known by the kids as being a kind lady, though somewhat flaky, who held ice cream parties frequently in her home and allowed the kids freedom like no other adult anywhere else did. Her own kids were very fun to play with, thought the kids in the surrounding community. Still however, she could have her unpleasant moods periodically with no justification, even while in their company.

Two seats behind Mrs. Floozy sat the technology instructor smiling broadly, appearing more like Santa Clause to the kids while he was at church. He arose, greeting the adults, but never hesitating to show attention to the kids, always laughing, smiling, pausing to tell the kids a silly joke or make some senseless logical analysis of one sort or another, declaring aloud that kids understood more legitimate reasoning than adults.

On most Sundays his assistant would saunter in among the church congregation, being very careful to take his proper seat on the side of the congregation opposite of Santa Clause, and somewhat nearer to the front door of the building. His appearance was one of a quiet but strong, very intelligent native individual, speaking freely when encountered, but rarely venturing outside his personal area to do so. He was assertive in his opinions, but very careful to avoid Old King Mondo at all costs, even while there at church. While at church, he was polite enough to force himself to nod the word hello to Mondo, but very reserved in making the effort, always being very careful to avoid the necessity of doing so every time that such was possible to do, with himself still able to save face in the process.

On the left hand side of the church congregational hall, sat both of TJ’s parent’s, his grandparents and his brother somewhere near the center. Directly behind them sat his aunt, uncle, and their two girl children, who were every bit as rowdy, if not more so, than their male cousins. During church services the children would frequently smile at one another from behind their parent’s back, as they leaned forward to stand or sing from the hymnal, causing a laughing surge to well up that could not be quelled or repressed by even the most grand of efforts, soon exploding into gleeful laughter among them all right there in the midst of the services!

At the rear of the congregational hall sat the black smith instructor. His quiet mustachioed demeanor attempted to conceal a figure underneath that even the kids were never quite certain of. He would smile broadly at the kids racing about after the services, but appearing to the kids, to only acknowledge certain adults present, while attempting to avoid acknowledging others.

On his left side sat his dear wife, appearing to the kids as though she forced herself to dress, or had in some strange sort of way, forced her bargain purchased dress to fit over her obviously growing torso. To the kids everything about her appeared to be forced, from her slightly off plumb, proper speech, on down to her efforts at brushing her hair, with her hair appearing as though it desired to simply tangle and give up on all life there on top of her head.

At church the kids called him Senior El Mario, the Donkey Kong man, making him laugh. The adults later on, somehow managed to pick this name up, noticeably angering him strangely enough, in a most shocking sort of way. Some certain ones done so only in private among themselves, neglecting to notice the kids within their midst; but such is a story we will refrain from discussing while we are present on church grounds.

To the rear of the right hand congregational hall, all alone seated on the very last pew, sat the dear wife of the good king, Mondo. Her elderly face appearing positively enlightened when among the crowd and congregation, but somewhat sullen and vexed when alone. Most could only marvel as too the reason why, when it appeared so radiantly where every possible pleasure in mortal life loomed right there within her firm grasp! A number made the observation, but virtually none dared make any mentioning of it, all fearing some sort of terrible retribution; since King Mondo was also very active politically, knowing well the master Sultan, who held all of the gatekeeper’s keys to the entire province of Cromartie Range.

With only a mere mentioning, the great Sultan could literally destroy anyone whom he desired. With a single click of a computer button, any person could be bared from employment in any profession, especially one sanctioned by the ruling province, which held the very best potential for employment along with the most abundance in quality jobs. Most business enterprises, if not indeed all, were indentured to the provincial system; so either directly or indirectly, they were led by the whims of the provincial authoritarians. The excluding power of the sub-contract, effectively purchasing entire developments before the developers even broke ground, secured the main employers from any possibility of competition arising among enterprising self-employed individuals. This prevailing fact also rendered all individual entrepreneurs, no matter what their status-quot, subjective victims to the whims of the system, and ultimately the master Sultan himself; hence indirectly, his most cherished of associations.

If all else failed, the Sultan could charge any estate he desired, with outstanding tax debt, justifying it in dozens of ways known only when the procedure was forced into court at the purloined expense of the poor victim, no matter how much it was that the victim was worth. In the end, the fight was most certain to be won by the condemning province, whose investment was then redeemed by a total property and financial account confiscation of all holdings and properties held in trust of the victim. The poor victim, now rendered destitute and void of his belabored estate, was left only to wonder the dark highways and byways in search of new ways to reestablish himself, but in most cases, finding none deemed as legal. Going the illegal route only led one directly onto the cold, stone floored dungeon, destined only to labor underneath chain and whip on the Sultans landed estate and those of his associates. So it was in this crass manner, where many innocents were effectively destroyed indirectly by the great Sultan and King Mondo himself.

There were numerous others as well, both known and unknown by the author, who bore a similar relationship to the Sultan, although depending on the strength of their relationship to the Sultan, could be enemies as antagonizing to one another, if not much more so, than the innocents abroad. It was because of this prevailing reality that average people tended to tread very lightly, absorbing abuse and simply smiling about it, rather than resisting or even daring to complain. If the great Sultan was gracious enough to allow them employment and quiet lives, then they were only obliged to be contented with this fact alone, asking nothing more than what was agreed in return for their honorable skilled services rendered. It was a common place saying among the citizens of the province, that they all were to stand honorable and with pride, in service to the province first, the hamlet second, and surrounding communities; then in service to one another, with themselves and their own interests in complete sacrifice.

With great pride King Mondo stood before the congregation commencing the sermon for the day, declaring aloud with smiles and salutations;

“Good morning, dear neighbors, coworkers, friends and family. We have gathered here today to speak of our personal trials and tribulations, paying our respects to all of those present whom deserve it, those that have passed on, and of course., to the supreme Sultan above. In addition, all must plead in earnest for forgiveness, since we all have sinned. Sin is most surly the scourge of man-kind. Lets pause for only a fleeting moment, to pray in silence as we go along here in our way this morning.

A pause prevailed for approximately three minutes, then his voice seemed to thunder from within the silent void.

Lets begin by showing our respects to the flags. See the two flags before us, the provincial flag and the flag of the sacred cross? Lets all turn and face the flag of the cross first, saying our cherished verse. Please repeat after me..

I pledge allegiance to the cherished flag of the cross and to the Savior for whose Kingdom it stands. One Savior, crucified, risen, and coming again with life and liberty to all who believe...

…Now lets turn to face the flag of our sacred province;

I pledge allegiance to the precious flag of the iron Maltese cross, to honor and to serve, with determination, resolve and fortitude, until victory shall carry us through the conflagration, or death no less, the most ultimate of altruistic sacrifice.

A pause of approximately three minutes then prevailed...

“Ladies and gentlemen, I do want to repeat now as I do so on every Sunday morning here, that just having the privilege to live in this fine province., is an honor unto itself. I hate to beat this statement into the ground, but I honestly do feel that all of us take our great freedoms here for granted. Because of this reality, especially among our youth whom are now present, I am going to repeat those freedoms as a list that I invite all of you to write out as I speak, behold.;

Freedom of choice..

Freedom of speech..

Freedom of the written word...

Freedom of choice in employment...

Freedom of individual enterprise..

Freedom of property ownership..

Freedom to publicly criticize authority...

Freedom to peaceably assemble...

Another pause then prevailed for about a single minute.

“And dear fellow countrymen.., this list could go on and on, outlining advantages that we have in these freedoms setting us apart from the all other provinces here on emerald earth. Still there are numerous others all of us take for granted; such as the fact that we never discriminate on any basis, as such is decreed at present in our constitutional law. Please let it be said so right here, dear ladies and gentlemen now, where I feel my effort spent is sufficient in making my point. My point here in making this sermon today is there are reasons as to why it is that we have these cherished freedoms.

“The very first reason that we are allotted these precious freedoms is because we placed the supreme Sultan of the sky first in all of our undertakings; then we all endeavored to follow his commandments. In review, please allow me to read those sacred commandments to all of you, here and now at this very moment in time...

Thou shalt not steal..

Thou shalt not commit adultery..

Thou shalt not bear false witness..

Thou shalt not fornicate...

Thou shalt abstain from drunkenness., nay I shall venture to say, even shun the very appearance of all evil itself!

Thou shalt refrain from deceitful designs...

Thou shalt honor no other lord before me...

Thou shalt make no graven image unto me..

A short momentary pause prevailed....

“Kids, all of you are commanded to honor thy father and mother, and to do so with new found pride and joy! Next time your mother instructs you to clean up your room, then you are to do so with nothing but joy in your hearts!

“My fellow neighbors and church members, now on that solemn note, lets pause for a moment. When the music sounds and the plate passes your way, you may place your request for forgiveness and those of your mortal heart’s desire here into the silk covered prayer box on the alter table, following your generous contribution to the house of the supreme Sultan.”

The haunting organ music then commenced to sound, the sound played out being very reminiscent of Frederick Magle’s Origin. King Mondo now commenced speaking with the organ song looming in the background.

“So it says in the Lambs Book Of Alms, suffer not your gifts unto the house, for as you freely offer thy gifts unto the house, then so shall it freely be given unto you.”

The music ceased when the plates were settled upon the alter and the last member had dropped his request into the box covered of mauve silk, then retaken his former seat.

“My fellow citizens of Cromartie Ridge, it is for these reasons that we are living the quality lives we are today. Yes, we have had many warriors who have battled our battles for us, only to come out victorious, but the question still remains as to specifically why it was that they were victorious; because I can tell all of you right here and now, that it was not by their own force or intelligence, it was due to the divine hand of the great supreme Sultan himself, I tell you!”

As King Mondo spoke, TJ glanced around at a young girl of twelve, noticing her sandy blond head hanging when Mondo mentioned the virtues of honesty and the sin of covetousness. Her father was the one really qualified to hold the position of president at the central academy, and the entire province well knew of it. He had the expertise, the credentials, everything but the proper contacts. King Mondo held that sole attribute, however, and absolutely nothing else on a president’s level; but look now who it was standing so proudly in the position, looming so forth right there like a righteous saint of some sort before us all.

Soon her family along with the girl herself, arose to exit the church building, doing so at their own potential future career peril. Virtually none among the congregational masses glanced up to take notice of them leaving; but I shall declare here aloud in unabashed honesty, that the purging effects of money and faith combined, can make the darkest of sheep lily white once more again, no matter what the nature of their antagonistic transgressions.