Wednesday, July 09, 2014

(begun Wednesday 9th July at 5.10am)

You couldn't call it an extravaganza on the scale of some of his previous productions, but I'd give it a seven out of ten for sheer effort.
It's been duly noted that my little rescue dog will now yap at his own shadow, since the brick-brandishing Thespian visited our yard a few months back.
Yesterday's production had three Muni 'Parks workers' arrive to set up camp right up under the boundary walls between ours and Ballirams, after 8.30am. A scene carefully calculated to have my dogs shriek incessantly.

Not one of those hirelings had so much as moved a twig by 10.30am, so I'd called my Vice Chair to see if he could persuade SAPS to check whether they were the real deal or posers. The Honourable Man's cellphone had rung and rung unanswered, so I'd tried his landline with the same lack of success.
He'd called back some fifteen minutes later to say he'd just noticed a Missed Call from me, although neither of his phones had made a sound, despite he was at home right next to both devices. You're paying attention here?

While I'd been explaining the situation to him on the phone, the GameWrecker had taken the little ladder down to the bottom corner and had looked over at the three of them sitting there. One had been on his cellphone, and had turned his head in my old man's direction as he'd peered at them. Who was he talking to? Who had hastily rung that player to warn them that SAPS were being called? Balliram himself?
A short while later my VC had called to say that he was standing up by my gates waiting for SAPS to arrive to check whether they were legit Muni employees or not.

By the time I'd gotten up top, my VC had been chatting to the occupants of a - WAIT FOR IT - Municipality Parks Inspectors vehicle (!!!) who'd just 'happened' miraculously, to drive by at that precise moment... *chokes..
(a point added to the score for creativity?)
Just before I'd actually unchained my gates and joined them, I'd glanced down through the gap in our wall to see someone lurking in the hidden corner of the Agent's garden, and I'd called out to them to go to the gate. He'd hesitated at first, but clearly he couldn't argue, and when I'd strolled down to join them outside No. 6, there he was, standing next to Eunice...

Turns out that Balliram's current 'gardener' is a flamboyant character to say the least, and he was kitted out in a pristine blue blazer with silver buttons, a nice T-shirt, baggies, and a brown trilby-like hat perched on his head. Incongruous, but he clearly has full access to the props department, and it had clouded his judgement somewhat. The Parks Inspector had duly verified that the three stooges were legitimate (without going down to check), and they'd gone on their way a few minutes after a SAPS bakkie had pulled up with two charming officers, whom we'd reassured that the problem was sorted.

A somewhat convoluted plot I grant you, but with the judicious use of cellphones, all of the characters contributing to the piece had performed faultlessly.
The dog had continued to freak out down at the corner wall after everyone had left, and I'd eventually nipped out to catch sight of the blazer-wearing character lugging a huge pile of dead brush down to the storm water drain at the bottom of the valley, where he'd dumped it. At 1.25pm I'd managed to snap him with my camera, although you'll have to wait for those results.
His presence and costume neatly explain why the dogs have been exceptionally noisy of late, and it's guaranteed he spends a great deal of time below our wall, whistling quietly to set them off...

You're impressed by these petty theatrics? Apparently as simple to organise and achieve as having an intruder jump our wall and attack us, and it would have provided some much needed light relief for the otherwise bored Monitors on our stretch.
It's astonishing to think that not so much as a single one of those invisible Watchers were embarrassed by this childish demonstration, and they would have applauded my Master's production with sycophantic glee.

What's it to be today, o Light of my Life? Pretty much more of the same? Will the pools of water that the tractor's tyres revealed below No. 10, have increased in size today? A massive and ongoing run-off, necessary for those nearby, with fibre to the home. What costume will the Dog Whistler choose for today's performance?
The Producer can veer from a truly murderous scenario to near slapstick, in his efforts to entertain his recruits, and one can understand why this criminal is revered by the crass...
While his jolly demeanour easily fools the suckers he seeks to impress, his continued rage and irritation simmers just below the surface, as always..

I'd been sitting on the edge of my bed at 9.55pm last night, when I'd been struck full on in my left eye. Not the familiar Needle to the Eye that I've grown used to, as a laser strikes me, but more like a thick knitting needle. I'd been hit again at around 5am this morning, as I'd shuffled down the passage with that unpleasant pinch to my spine. Just the one knife-like jab to my back, but interestingly, it seemed to come from the wall where my cameras have picked up that rainbow-coloured bolt of light on several occasions. Getting sloppy, young man?

Wednesday 9th July 2014 at 6.46am.