Grass Widow..?
(begun Friday 22nd March at 4.05am..)
*Edit made Tuesday 26th March at 9.06am while signed into blogger.com: Trash the updates I'd scribbled out during our nearly 4-day enforced downtime? Bin them as being old news, and start again? Naaa... You can sit through all of my wild speculations and guesses, just as you always do...*
My, my, my, did I lose the plot last night, or what? No problem? The whole darned shebang was neatly intercepted and contained? *Jesus,Joseph&Mary, but my pen has barely touched the pad, and he's burning for a look-see over my bloody shoulder!*
Okay, so let's start at the beginning shall we? The tracking yesterday while we'd been out in the Polo had had it's vicious moments, but I've survived worse...
I'd finally gotten around to sitting down at the PC at 2.10pm, at precisely which point Balliram's house alarm began it's endless screeching..*winks..
On and on it went, when suddenly I heard the toot of a car's horn nearby. That close that I'd gotten up and wandered out onto the front lawn to see if it was someone in the valley below.. As luck would have it, I was in time to see the armed response guy walking in through the opening gates at No. 6, and realised it had been him that had hooted for access.... Who let him in?
Who didn't know how to deactivate the alarm, but had the gate remote? Maid number 26? All the while, the Beemer still hugged the top of their drive.
Is Balliram set to endure another Happy Family's long weekend, or is that what he'd like you to think?
Lordknows but that goonda ain't going nowhere too far away. Not since he and I were equally surprised by the sight of that uncapped hydrant gushing water down the Crescent..*chokes...
Did she know she was set to be a Grass Widow again? Did he at the last moment pull out and tell her he'd had orders to stick close, due to what could prove to be sensitive material on that pile of CD's I'd hauled out of storage? Was she upset, and had said so, or is she used to his bullshit by now, and accepts it stoically? Shame...
Whatever. By 3.55pm he'd had the rats, wherever he was, and had begun letting me know in no uncertain terms... From then on our little home was flooded with the BackFire frequency, and no amount of my cursing made a blind bit of difference...
By 6.15pm I'd had more than enough, and had sent out those Share My Pain texts to Logie, Spence, Holson, the Hawk (whose name I cannot spell!), Val, Vanessa, Cyril and Alison.. I'd used the old one that says 'I am GATVOL of being abused by Collin P. Ballilram using Sutcliffe's laser technology. Wireless cranked through the roof already at 6.10pm. Transparency? HAH! Jane'
The levels hadn't budged after that, and I guess it was about then that I'd booted up the old PC again, in desperation.. Shortly afterwards I'd heard a muffled chirrup from his remote, and had remarked on it to the GW..
At 6.58pm I'd posted on Logie Naidoo's FB wall fairly extensively, and then I'd copied and pasted that lengthy comment onto the Journalist's page, to Kohler-Barnard, and if I remember rightly, to Noseweek..
Straight after that I'd sent a tweet to the Snowman, just in case he'd nodded off and missed them.. Unlikely, but why take a chance? He'd replied to say he'd go and take a dekko... When I'd gone back a while later to tell him I was shutting down, my Tweet Send function had been disabled, and that was that...
When I'd finally headed for bed at 8.40pm, the BackFire levels remained eye-wateringly high, as the Unfortunate Creature continued to delude himself he was in charge... By 9.10pm I was laying there under the sheet, literally vibrating all over with, what? Allen? Were you ever given the opportunity to study those archived frequency test reports of the effects of microwaving on humans?
Is that what causes every fibre in my old body, including the sheet, to vibrate like that? A good old cook-out?
At 9.55pm something nipped by the bedroom window with it's lights flashing, but by then I was too groggy to even recognize whether it was a low flying fixed wing, or a chopper.. It wasn't THIS one, that's for sure...
So there you have it folks.. You're going to have to decide from the above whether I've been telling the truth all along, or not.. That the CIA were indeed lying by omission when they'd said they'd control the population via their electrical assets, when what they HADN'T said, was that they now have the ability to control individual human targets via the employment of the laser/wireless frequencies, that can cause immediate and overwhelming pain to any area of the body they elect to target... You have Agent Balliram to thank for clearing up that point.
Had I anticipated getting any responses at all? Are you crazy? First off, I'd had my doubts they'd even appear on the recipient's FB walls, but hey, when you're backed into a corner with pain like that, there's no harm in giving it a shot... Do I think that as a result, things are set to improve? Again, a no. Judging by Millie's protests right now at 5am, as I sit here chatting to you in the back room, the Saddo is anxious to read my every word before I hop online later to update and publish...
Why so jumpy, Special Operative Balliram? I can assure you that on that entire remaining stack of CD's there won't be another opportunity like that of the uncapped fire hydrant, and I can also assure you that you're going to have to stick close to find out...
Where did your enraged and prolonged reminder of who's in charge get you, and who's the Duracell Bunny now? Were those unintelligible words you uttered in my ear while I was still online last night designed as a last-ditch attempt to stun me into silence? What a shame then, that was another massive FAIL... *shrugs..
Ja julle - Would you believe that the Knob had tried to impress me with a skill I've known all along that he possesses? I'd had the Muffles in fully to block out the sound of the telly behind me, while I was busy posting on Facebook and fighting with Twitter, so there's no error on my part when I say that my Controller had uttered two or three robotic, tinny, and faraway-sounding words in my ear at some point, which had had no affect on me whatsoever...
How often have I exhorted him to play Radio Moscow, or even some music in my head, but up until last night he hadn't obliged... I confess that in the end I was seriously bummed by his pathetic efforts to impress me, and he'll have to do a lot better than remotely transferring his own cawing tones to my inner ear...
Look at it this way Bubba - At least you can now use those CD's as an excuse to drop any pretence that you're a happily married family man, and you can now feed your sick obsession full-time? Hell, we both know that whatever form my cries for help take, they can be intercepted and blocked with ease, so no worries in that department, right? Are your hounds baying for my blood? Are they egging you on to greater depths of depravity and cruelty than you already employ? Like you need any encouragement dewd.. Pfft...
By rights you should've been laughed out of the ranks of this cowardly Yellow Army a long time ago, but I guess the fact that you're allowed to continue unfettered, tells you all you want to know about the ultimate goals sought by the Experiment Planners..
For the good of the world's population? You're certain of that? When already the Devout such as Ltn. BeVonk have been swallowed up and re-programmed to sit back and watch silently while innocent people are being tortured? (And my dear, if you believe I'm guilty of anything other than being a Fool, then I've hit that nail squarely on the head, have I not?)
Dawn is just breaking on the horizon, and it's set to be another warm and beautiful day here in the Valley of the Damned..
Will you spare me so much as a thought, knowing as you do that I'm probably set to pay and pay again for the Creep's own errors? When you dream of me, will they be pleasant dreams, or nightmares?
The shriek in my ears has increased and I've just taken a couple of furtive Knives to the Back as the connection is tightened... Dying hairs in my inner-ear DJ? You may keep your articulate scientific propoganda to yourself, young man.. This unpleasant yapper finds herself strangely disappointed in you, when really there's no reason for it...
LATER at 6.10am
Can the levels of pain we already endure be increased still further? With the Grass Widow out of the picture, Balliram is free to indulge the sickest of his fantasies, so ja, I guess that me and my little dogs and Sue the Book are lined up for a brutal weekend's sport...
Popcorn, Ekstasis? *vomits...
Old Missus Bernie up at No. 17 will happily avoid this particular fire-storm.. Her leg had inexplicably (*winks) buckled under her a couple of weeks ago, and she'd been hobbling about in agony until the day before yesterday, when she was finally diagnosed as having suffered a fracture to her hip. Can the Pig reach her there at the San, and is she destined to be part of just another demonstration of power, or will she be left alone to survive and recover? We'll have to wait and see on that score...
Another chirrup as I rose from my seat at the desk and headed through to the kitchen at 6.16am.. Keen as mustard, are we? *studies the drooling Sadist... Wipe your chin, buster, I've got to run the bath first..
If Balliram was ever a well-respected name among the Pietermaritzberg community, it can be said that the Unfortunate Specimen at No. 6 has worked long and hard to change that perception forever...
Too harsh? Not half as harsh as the punishment we're set to endure while you sit safely silent on the sidelines..
Peace...
---oOo---
Finally published on Tuesday 26th March 2013 at 9.55am.
