Self-inflicted?
(begin Wednesday 26th February at 10.20am..)
I've mopped up most of the blood from the self-inflicted wounds made in my feet yesterday, but it's guaranteed it'll be flowing again before long. *How prophetic was that? I'm trying to wean myself off of the self-deprecation thing, but as I constantly provide myself with so much material, it's going to take a while, if ever, to achieve.
I cringe with shame for the Unfortunates who may be on Monitoring Shift at ours this morning. A shame that doesn't quite stretch to cover the possibility that it's the Sadist lurking at No. 6, or his church-going lackey, who are running such appalling levels of wireless today.
Those two definitely know what they're doing at all times, though for the rest, I choose to believe they're innocent, and have no real idea of the pain I'm enduring.. They simply ask how high when he says to jump, and they obey his every instruction without a murmur.
You think that my fillings are old and I should perhaps see a dentist and get them shored up? That my discomfort has nothing to do with the quantum laser technology flooding our home indoors and out? If only it were so.
It's the Brute himself that puts paid to that theory, for he will, in between thumping me cruelly in both sides of my fat metal mouth, hop to my filling-free front teeth, top and bottom, causing those nerve-ends to break into a tango of exquisite pain.. So no, there's nothing wrong with my teeth that isn't the result of your so-responsible Project Agent's fun and games. To be continued...
*Edit: Thursday 27th. I took a Myprodol and hoped to catch a kip while Penny's here, but I'm sorry to say those paragons of virtue and responsibility cannot leave me be, and have been erratically jabbing away at my abdomen with their lasers pretty much since 8.am. I've sent another text to Allen Spence, however futile it is. Driven from my own bed, I'll make another attempt at updating my blog, minus a forefinger. *
Thursday 27th February at 4am...
Had our resident Spook at No. 6 read the start of my update yesterday, made after 10am, and decided then and there to despatch a message to us, an hour or so later? Did the Sicko's warped sense of humour include the 'okay then, if you want blood, I'll give you blood?'
If that young man had wanted to kill us, he would've done it without much bother, although it's my guess if they'd gone that route, he himself would've been silenced permanently within a couple of days.
Did you get to see the footage? Did you see me roaring at him that he wasn't supposed to kill us, and that he was on camera? 'Where are the cameras?', he'd asked, and I'd shrieked at him truthfully that they were everywhere...
Had my mention of the quantum laser Project filtered through to him, and he'd realised that taking off would be his best option, which he'd done, taking the 52 stairs back up to the street, leaving his blood behind on the stair railing?
The Accountant's wife had seen him going up and down the boundary walls looking for the best place to hop over, but she hadn't thought to call us, but had called my Excellent Neighbour instead.. Sadly, Alison hadn't alerted us, but instead, had locked up her house and gone out to keep an appointment, shortly before the shit hit the fan at ours.
Now I come to think of it, neither of her two dogs had said a word as the oldies had screamed and shouted out on their front lawn.. Had I heard young Spanky at No. 12? Nope, only our two terrified little animals, as they'd raced about yapping ceaselessly...
You may connect the dots with ease, and like I wrote on my FB wall last night, if you have the right connections you can get to enjoy the footage of two elderly people being beaten up on their front lawn... Smiley? Still keen to peek at data stolen from ours? *looks at the Shipping Agent in Mayfield Road... Or did you shrug it off when you heard about it, and say I'd had it coming for a long time?
It's now 4.06am, and the whole moon has just risen over Hugo Road, though only the crescent part is golden yellow.. It's so beautiful it gave me goosebumps briefly... Can I grumble? Would it be okay with our ex- Ward Councillor's cousin from up the road if I were to indulge in a brief whinge at this point? After all, at least one of her offspring cut their teeth learning the art of the quantum laser program in ours...
Yeah - I have to say that of all the mess inflicted on me during that brief tussle with our visitor, the pain that had bothered me the most was the familiar deep pinch to my lower back, as our Monitors savoured every minute of that brutal free-for-all.. My spine, already weakened by countless nighttime visits, bore the brunt of the attack, and the wireless running at the Trauma Unit had all but finished me off...
Right now I'm operating on Myprodol, and I'm not a happy camper as there's no painkiller on the market to alleviate the pain of the laser attacks...
Care to discuss what was actually achieved by that perfectly timed message delivered in our yard yesterday?
I'd dripped my way into the kitchen after the kid had run off and without hesitation I'd called Captain Soobrathi. He hadn't answered. (Apparently he was off for the day). Then I'd called my Station Commander, who'd despatched some men immediately. My Vice Chair was next, and by the time I'd staggered up to unlock the gates, SAPS vehicles were pulling up everywhere...
Would you care to guess who the first Officer was to arrive? None other than Gervaise Heslop, who unfortunately caught the sharp edge of my tongue as a result.. You'll forgive me laaitie, but it's common knowledge that me and your Born-Again Philanthropic Oomie don't see eye to eye...
Next at my gates had been an oddly grey-faced Communications Officer, to whom I'd suggested waspishly that he go check out the stolen footage of the assault, and make do with that.
Hey - There's plenty of wonderful cops up at our station but it's hardly likely they'd be sent to assist us..
The paramedics arrived and they were both funny and kind, and had me chortling within minutes.. I actually lost count of the number of SAPS vehicles that pulled up, and the Blue rep that my old man had called was also charming. Would you believe FOUR ambos?
Are you enjoying this, Your Shiftyness? As you lean over my shoulder here at the desk to read my preliminary scribbles? Was it all really worth it? Hell, you can say what you want, but I guess everyone knows you're involved, along with the unfortunate Jesus' Sunbeam...
There's one little cameo that keeps playing over and over in my head. I'd gone up to let in the Officers and my VC, and they'd headed downstairs to go check out my old man for damage..
A white Polo had pulled up outside No. 11's gates and a chap got out to speak to the tiny lady with the pink/red dyed hair, who'd let him in.
I'd stood there watching as they'd spoken quietly before she appeared to break down crying and he'd given her a big hug... It was impossible to identify her from that distance, but she certainly reminded me of Balliram's Graduate, Renette Newton, who used to run the surveillance technology out of that very same Moth Cottage before the family were rudely ousted... No? Not her? I've seen godschild chatting to her, so he would know whether it's a new tenant or our old friend and colleague of the British Army Intelligence whose been deployed back to her old stamping ground for reasons unknown...
Why was she so upset? A personal tragedy, or had she been watching us getting beaten up and had been affected by it? It would be nice to think that at least one of our nearby Recruits/Monitors had retained a modicum of compassion, though it's highly unlikely...
I'm happy to say Keith Downs appears to have come through his surgery with flying colours. Will my latest allegations be noted and followed up? The matter of the funding of the ACDP party, and just how much our
Freddie Cochran at No. 12 knows about it's source, and whether Soros has managed to slide his gifts in through a back door after all...
Had my Tormentors left me in peace overnight, as I'd tried futilely to get comfortable? Not according to my logs they hadn't, and at 12.25am I'd reared up to see that light was back on, high up on Dawood's unfinished apartment block facing us...
At 1.10am I'd gotten the torch to find fat Sophie under my bed. A giveaway of the amounts of wireless still flooding our home...
Will we last long enough to see any form of justice done? Or will our next visitor/visitors be our last? I guess that Agent Balliram isn't relocating after all, and that putting the Chickencoop on the market had been some sort of red-herring again... After all, what buyer in his right mind would fork over 1.2million for a home facing directly onto a towering student residence?
Apparently our Mr. Dawood of the Roseann cc hasn't sold those blocks to the Government after all.. Something that you can guarantee my Area Controller is fully aware of...
The Myprodol is wearing off and I've no doubt there'll be some laugh-a-minute moments for my Monitors as I struggle with the Bathtime Matinee soon enough.. Hey - it takes all kinds, folks...
LATER at 6.40am
Here's the thing. Sometime between getting up at 3.25am and 5.35am, the horrendous lower back pinch had simply vanished. That is, until I'd bathed and was dressing and took a whack where it hurt the most.. Why? The GameWrecker had just tottered out of bed for the day, and the Monitoring was being duly cranked up..
My cooked head sees each of you Invaders of our Privacy as two separate entities... One is the hard working and pleasant person I've known for years, and the other is the thing you've become since you were recruited to the quantum army... Does that make any sense to you at all? That I don't hold a shred of hatred, even for the unfortunate developmentally-arrested Psycho at No. 6?.
After all, it was Balliram who gave me a reason to live, and to actually on occasion, like myself.
Peace..
---oOo---
Thursday 27th February 2014 at 10.40am.
