So, having sorted out the story we now plan to make the this into an agreeable story where we know that the sons are all heavy-set males and they do body building and what nags me one of them is so nice as to break his wife’s arm on some argument. The thoughtful me is there sharing this out and about the thing is do not underrate the little family because the literary efforts are such, we now nicer than mice.
“Cards on the table what is it with you?”
“I bet you all there is not much in her.” said dad.
“You should have told us at the beginning not at the end of the story.” said the editor.
“Yes, mime but the thing was the story took over and there was this action and excitement I lost complete control of myself.”
“Did you not plan the story?”
“No madam I never do.”
“But my dear author what do you do with this mess?”
“Help me help me sort myself out I can and may write better for it?” I beseeched.
“Get along with you.” said the editor and left tidily out.
Impacted on this there is nothing to do with me at all I am a passing thought. An illegitimate with nothing legit about me. I am a passing stranger with something they all want and that makes me think there is not much to love or see. There is nothing but this property. I am hot as chillies and the chillies beans and that makes me feel the love and the tug of love and this and that.
“I can’t go much faster than this I can’t.” said the reader the psychologist.
“Love died on me and the family have settled into eating my carcase not only mine but the others as well.”
“I have signed a form which states I am an experiment. That this is nothing new. This is what matters I am a would be new something who is to be experimented on. I am not amused. I no longer a person a woman in her own right with the ownership of herself. I am an experiment.”
“All this is data for them?”
“Of course, like a used up dismantled machine.”
“I failed to see what would come out of this?”
“I will come out in pieces.”
“Back in the real world I am wasting time I am wasted.” the children have gone now they are safe all well as I assume and they are no longer children they have children themselves we live in an age when children grow so fast.
Children died and youths got into some sorry troubles we come from violence we come from the snakes and dancing with snakes is our way. We come to taunt we come to abuse when we dish it out then we are fathers and family when they have the guile to take or try to take children from their homes in order to work them in brothels and think it is nature’s way of rewarding them for their seeds and time of feeding and nurturing these poor children it is the vilest of deeds.
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