Tuesday, March 1, 2022

Entwerfen ™ is a trademark owned by Warren A. Lyon and Angel Ronan ™ Consulting.

I


 

By at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Kamen Rico, Oliver and Dodger. August 18th, 2026. The air in the London workhouse was heavy with the smell of wet hemp and stale porridge. Kamen Rico, newly arrived off the banana boat alongside Alfred Dodger, sat on a bench with the other children, his small hands working mechanically through the twists of heavy rope. They learned bowlines and clove hitches under the eye of the taskmaster, their hands raw, their pants stiff with coarse fabric. When the lanterns were turned low, the room swelled with the soft, mismatched voices of children clinging to home, singing Amazing Grace and How Great Thou Art into the shadows as they waited for their assignments. They Also Sung Ring Around the Rosies. American Version Ring around the rosie, A pocket full of posies, Ashes! Ashes! (or Ashes, ashes) We all fall down! [1, 2] British Version Ring-a-ring o' roses, A pocket full of posies, A-tishoo! A-tishoo! (representing a sneeze) We all fall down! [1] Indian Version Ringa ringa roses, Pocket full of posies, Husha busha! We all fall down! Before every meal, they prayed as follows, "...Thank you Lord for the ground provisions, for the lakes full of bountiful fish, that we can enjoy the milk and eggs from the land animals without Cesium 137 radiation, that we bless all the people that includes the English, that Moses spoke Arabic, that we see women in the neighborhood around that breastfeed...who are not interrupted by their spouse except once a week or maybe only once a week for 5 minutes in the holy of holes, that we enjoy our books from Asia, Europe, England and Africa and learn some Tai Chi or Kung Fu with the Master's Tai Chi and Kung Fu Teacher named Mr. Whol Dole Now Chow who rides up from his Kentish Town soup kitchen where he works with Watchman Nee and Witness Lee; Let us also thank God for our Government benefits paid to everyone in full dignity and help the government remember our North Atlantic ways and culture and if not in our choices to be bad to ourselves, we will disappear and then the frog people speaking many different languages will come to live in our spaces to have their babies and raise families; in the name of the Heavenly Father...Amen." "...Dank U, Heer, voor de basisvoorzieningen, voor de meren vol vis met een overvloed aan vis, dat we kunnen genieten van de melk en eieren van landdieren zonder cesium-137-straling, dat we alle mensen zegenen, inclusief de Engelsen, dat Mozes Arabisch sprak, dat we vrouwen in de buurt zien die borstvoeding geven... die niet worden onderbroken door hun echtgenoot, behalve één keer per week of misschien maar één keer per de week gedurende 5 minuten in de heilige ruimte, dat we kunnen genieten van onze boeken uit Azië, Europa, Engeland en Afrika en Tai Chi of Kung Fu kunnen leren van de meester Tai Chi en Kung Fu-leraar, meneer Whol Dole Now Chow, die komt aanrijden vanuit zijn gaarkeuken in Kentish Town, waar hij werkt met Watchman Nee en Witness Lee; Laten we God ook danken voor onze overheidsuitkeringen die aan iedereen in volle waardigheid worden betaald en laten we de overheid helpen onze Noord-Atlantische gewoonten en cultuur te herinneren, en als we er niet voor kiezen onszelf slecht te behandelen, zullen we verdwijnen en dan zullen de kikkermensen, die vele verschillende talen spreken, in onze gebieden komen wonen om hun kinderen te krijgen en gezinnen te stichten; It was there Kamen witnessed Oliver’s abrupt departure—dragged away through the heavy oak doors for the unpardonable sin of asking for another ladle of food. Soon after, the children were dispatched one by one into the foggy city, assigned to families across the countryside. Kamen’s turn came on a rainy Tuesday. He was sent to a grand farm outside the city owned by a candy factory proprietor—a man married to a quiet, rigid woman named Janey Austin. Kamen’s place was not at the candy counters, but in the main house, assisting the lady of the kitchen, a warm-hearted Trinidadian woman whose presence made the cold English estate feel a little less foreign. While Kamen spent his mornings polishing brass, sweeping oak floors, and listening to the cook mutter longing thoughts about hot doubles wrapped in paper back home, his freedom ended at dusk. At five o'clock sharp, he was sent to the small, dark closet at the edge of the dining room. Through the narrow crack in the door or the key hole, Kamen watched the family gather around the heavy mahogany table. He sat on the floor, listening to the clink of silverware, watching the father carve roast meat, and longing simply to sit in the warmth of the room—to be seen, to be included, to exist beyond the shadows of the closet. The Trinidadian lady named Gadbrotababimahtah held him close to her bosom and said"...don't worry my son. It is best to be thankful." The chimney sweep came in for his bread and soup and also a kiss but Gadbrotababimahtah pushed him away because of the smoke on him. She hated the smoke but she loved his big brown nose and he whistled a lot. She pretended this was her husband but this was her brother. Kamen had a brown nose too. The Master had the same hair texture as Kamen. His nose was Brown also. He went to the closet as usual after 5 pm and the door was locked. He was there to watch and study. They said prayers and ate. He watched. This one night, the man's 20 year old daughter came to the closet door that was painted in "Family Yellow ", the same colour of the barn outside and said to him, " it is best to be thankful. Life cannot be so easy. Could it be? It is best to be thankful." She left her scraps from her plate at the door. CLICK HERE. The cook knew the weight of that loneliness. The next morning, as she boiled water for the morning tea, Kamen watched her closely. She dropped one white sugar cube into her cup. Then, with a swift, practiced motion, she slipped a second cube into a tiny leather satchel, carefully hiding it beneath her apron. She turned, caught Kamen watching, and offered a soft, knowing smile. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a second sugar cube, and pressed it quietly into his palm. The Trinidadian lady held Kamen close, her apron smelling of clove and scorched sugar. "Don't worry, my son," she whispered softly into his hair. "It is best to be thankful. You will learn. Read the master's desk." He saw a Jamaican police file about a black young man who was the son of a woman who had displeased her employer for using garden tools and the dog spoon to make the soup She thought it would make everyone feel more native related and not soo distant; stiff and serious but it affected their health. She was found eaten by a Crocodile that grabbed her off the river bank when she walked to the market one day for peppers; yet they found two bullet holes in her head with the word Leviticus written on them. She had a son and daughter before this event that were left at the church door and then the young man who was her son was asked to marry this sister as they came of age. She kept tempting him with bad language and diminishing his manhood to see if he would ever kill her. While driving in a vehicle one day, she provoked him and then he stopped the car, pulled out the Cutlass and cut her head off. He left the body on the road side. The kids came along and cut the belly open to see if there was a female baby. They took the baby to the church. The young man with the Cutlass was asked to marry her, the girl they found in the body, as she reached of age around 20. His name was Tom Leyland Phinn Line. The man decided he must be convicted today for this murder with the Cutlass.

             Kamen Rico, Oliver and Dodger.  August 18th, 2026. The air in the London workhouse was heavy with the smell of wet hemp and sta...