Bruck – #personaljournal
“You know they are going to come and get you, don’t you?”
“My brother and WoodWord.”
“Shhhh. Yes. I know…”
It was the last words she said to me. The Little Blessed One. Ah, her trembling breath reminded me of a tune of Vertigo, the haunting Suite of Bernard Herrmann. Do you love classical music? What is your favorite?
Let’s imagine you stop at a hotel, taking a bath, and the next thing you know, a madman in a wig is trying to kill you. What do you think that might sound like? Well, Bernard Herrmann knew…
I don’t wanna lie and say: ‘I ain’t done nothing.’ I killed people, channeled my aggression into the end of a knife, pushed my demons under soft skin. They never caught me on Earth. How so? I escaped to Netericus as part of the private guard team of Father Callum.
Callum was an old mate of my mother. She was a writer: mostly published surviving guides for travelers (or visitors) to the Moon, Venus, and Mars. She was the number one best seller for many years. I learned from her from a very young age: ‘You are who you are. You can’t blame anyone else for who you are.’
That’s why one day, I decided, ‘fuck that shit, I am no longer waiting for other people to help me out or show me the way – I am my own man, my own rescue and dream.’ I contacted Father Callum after my mother’s death, explained (or should I say showed?) that I can fix any mess or issue. The easy way to Netericus lies through people who have power or money. The key lesson here: Find the dirtiest peach to squeeze. Squash it without any regret.
Father Callum is dead now. Murdered. No, not by me…
Killing is a way of life, just like banging. Killing is a revolution against the world that promotes a humble image of ‘life is precious.’ Killing gives you what you want. It doesn’t make you look passive, spongy, or weak. You are your own king, universe, galaxy. You are living the adventure of your life. Go out and master your fuckin’ Destiny, whatever it is!
Yeah, I am not shy. You see, you can’t be shy during hard times. Time like this helps to develop your strength and give a kick in the right direction. “Keep a good company closer, but bad – in your bed,” my mom usually said to me. She was priceless with this kind of bulshittin’ verbal junk.
Let me tell you one thing; I don’t pick my company just for their ability or power. I want someone who inspires me, elevates me, makes me stronger as an individual – the real champion.
Pastor Hoff is one.
Richard Daw is second.
What? Yeah, OF COURSE I love Elin. She is an angel… so virtuous in sex. Can take quite a lot. I have no intention to breed one more me, but if I would – I’d choose her.
Netericus sex laws are made for the stupid and weak. I’m neither of that. In case if you are up for some laugh:
Rule #311 – tantric sex practices in large companies, in front of the other person, the mirror or in public places, are forbidden.
Rule #769 – unauthorized orgasm is forbidden (have to make a video or log to private journal).
Rule #1307 – hysterical whispers or moans for help are forbidden.
Rule #5 – you are not allowed to switch off sex screen if the Nine are contacting you.
Rule #680 – soon-to-be-partners can’t wear any pants on the first date.
Well, if you’d forget any rule – ARVID (Martian AI-system) would remind you. It will also make you suffer until you’ll surrender and make it right. But if you are a policeman or if you know folks who can shut it down (example: working tight with The Nine) – you are truly blessed, because there’re no rules.
Awww, Isobel, look at her – little fowl… my old knees are still aching. I love her blue oyster-shaped panties. She blushed a bit when I brushed them against her cheek. That made me tingle, truly… so sweet, and then a sudden sort of plunging feeling between my legs. I just had to kill her – and it was quick, I swear. The hands did what they know how to do best…
Her pubic hair is horribly greasy – nasty girl! She certainly lived to the fullest: thin pale arms, saggy destructive breasts, law snoring moans, paper skin, and breathe like burning rubber. I know, I know – I lost my temper and destroyed the delivery package. I was intoxicated by her peculiar courage. I tried to be respectable though, you know, filled her body with my personal ‘gift’.
Fuckin’ headache! Let me see if I still got those painkillers that Father Callum left me… Found it. Tell you what, I have some shampoo here, so I may take a break – to stay and wash Isobel’s hair. No rush with the delivery now, right?
“Every day in every way… just try to be who you are.” She said to me.
“I’m sorry Mother, your son is not a Saint.” That’s all I can answer.
See you on Monday, folks!
Have a good Friday and weekend!
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