One way to guarantee a response in me is to hurt a child which doesn’t belong to you right under my nose. I often get it from cowardly kidnappers round here. It’s sad to admit that this kind of criminal activity goes on in this part of the world. Don’t worry, I’m onto them. I found out that they were exchanging children and cash outside the local supermarket with information such as times and prices stickered to a trolley. I wheeled the trolley away and dumped it in my neighbour’s garden. It got me thinking about children being the main central unit of trade for enterprise around the elites of the world. It’s common knowledge that an awful lot of youngsters go missing every year, but I don’t need to be told by a newscast or any other tidbit of insider briefing that a child of God is the most important and valuable ‘thing’ in the knowable universe.
That’s my opinion, and I believe that like a lot of my beliefs, it’s shared and regarded highly in certain circles. You can talk about property and land until you’re blue in the face with cows coming home, but nothing really hits the sweet spot like a little bundle of baby tot does it? Aw, the way they smell...How much is a baby worth? More than I can afford, that’s what. I’ll be honest with you though, I feel like stealing one lately. Only because other people are doing exactly the same. Why can’t I have one? I may not be the most responsible father figure, but at least I won’t be administering ‘Chinese Burns’ to it in public spaces. Or pinching it with tweezers, or whatever it is they do to the poor mites.
They lie in wait with crying and screaming babies in places I frequent with their ‘plausible deniability’ alibis revised and rehearsed. No visible weapons, no obvious signs of abuse, we ain’t doing a damn thing wrong Your Honour, that delusional schizo is imagining things again. They’re always up to it. Once upon a time I would ignore them and prepare to be downbeat for half an hour or so, thinking about it in depth. This is the only reason they do it. They don’t especially like hurting wee babies (who does?) they simply want to lower my mood. I am so reviled around my home town that ‘the locals’ or ‘outsiders’ depending upon wherever the hell it is they come from, will torture each other’s pets in my earshot to gain nothing aside from an unimpressed kneejerk reaction. For years I kept my reactions to myself. Then God upgraded me to be one of his weapons, so now I have a rather enjoyable habit I adopt which I call ‘driving’ in order to partially deal with these bothersome disorderlies, and I’ll tell you about it now.
‘Driving’ means to follow. When I become aware that unlawful custodians are abusing a child in public, which as I already mentioned happens a lot around here, I simply follow them secretly for a while until we are in a less crowded vicinity. For the longer the better. Then I’ll reveal myself, right up and close on their shoulder, and cough several times rather loudly, or shout at the top of my voice, calling them ‘chicken-hearted scumballs’. I get so pent up with emotion, and I am so unpractised at this endeavour thus far, that my responses are quite unpredictable. I can barely control myself, because all sense and sensibilities, including rationale and logic, are screaming at me to save the child, to snatch it away from bondage, and rescue it away into to a better future. Deep inside, I want blood like they do. Theirs. All over that window there.
Of course I can’t do this, everyone knows it, because I’ll be the one getting detained. If they incarcerate me for lighting imaginary gas canisters outside my home, they’ll sure as hell as like lock up my arse for kidnapping well-to-do white folks’ children. That’s what it looks like, to the untrained eye: A large aggressive man of ethnicity abducting a minor from an innocent couple. A heinous crime. But not as heinous as Child Destruction. I believe that’s the official term for the charge for it.
Can’t anyone tell that the baby looks nothing like its guardians, that it’s yelling the house down, and that they’re all acting terrified? Or is that my bi-polar playing up again?
[Damn crap, I missed my jab. Did I mention that I suspect they are injecting buffing agents into my glutes now, under the guise of life-saving medication? Once I turned it down because it looked like acrylic paint (the bright yellow viscosity was the clue), but usually I haven’t the bottle to look at what they’re giving me. Until now, when I have nobly accepted the enriching authority of serving a just cause In Christ. Sod it, I might even tell them to get stuffed with their drugs. The last ‘poke’ was with an empty syringe. Fancy receiving treatment from a nurse with an empty syringe. That’s how much the authorities take the Michael out of me. I suppose you think I’m a right whopper now innit, putting up with tosh like that. It’s a mixture of disbelief & respect which allows me to put up with such abuse, but things are changing within my waters]
The gangs I deal with often hurt people within earshot of me to maximise a desired effect. I investigate if possible, but usually there’s nothing to find. They hide in regions of the building I have no access to. Or they do it above or beneath me. I think they want me to chase shadows in an emotional state, but they lie about it what they want from me. They just keep reiterating, through the wishy-washy veil of my tears sometimes, that they are having a lovely time. Usually, if I can’t understand someone’s intentions, I take a considerable close look at my own. Why would I pain-inflict suffer to another individual conscious singularity of biological sentience (aka human being)? Just WHY OH WHY would I? I use my imagination to figure something out.There are motives to everything (but not much more than LOVE, HATE and MONEY). We are all human, aren’t we, at the end of the day? But I learn a lot also from other websites, and snippets from survivor testimonies. These powerful & graceful learned experiences teach me that their ultimate goal is suicide through despair.
Trust me, despair is bad. You have desperation, hopelessness, helplessness, sickness, madness, and then despair. You just can’t do…anything. And this is the perverse providence which potentially awaits ALL OF HUMANITY, if we allow THE SILENT HOLOCAUST through our reception doors, without a thorough pat down.
That’s the mentality of this merry band of men which encircles me, peeps. They’d rob their own grandmothers if they thought it would affect me. I sincerely hope that none of these hatebreeds ever have you appear on their radar. You would not like them. They are petty, they are simple, and they are disgusting. For the moment, let me deal with them. It’s my new-fangled job to protect the nation and afar.
From Chinese terrorists. From Russian spies. And from much, much worse. Just ask Mark M. Rich, and his Hidden Evil. He knows the score.
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