Revenge gone wrong.
A once upon a time story – it is
up to you, the reader, to decipher what is true and what is ‘Fake News’.
It all started in Nottingham, England, 1756 – when I
became a reborn heathen. Exact on revenge for the mother fuckers that burnt me
alive because I slept with the local Bishop’s
illegitimate daughter and filled her belly with my seed.
As a result, she popped out male twins (named Whiskey and Cola, after my
favourite tipple), and questions were asked. Especially when they were 7 years
old and had a strange likeness to me. Hunch back, 5 foot two tall when strapped
to a stretching board – (I was
measured whist being tortured), a hairy back and testicles that dragged on the
floor as they went begging for food.
Having a gammi leg, it was hard to do a runner, so I was subsequently
incarcerated in a rather dark dungeon where it smelt badly – even more so after I defecated the
rest of the rats I was eating to stay alive.
It got to a point as to why bother trying to stay alive – but, I might be a limper – not a
lemming.
The day I was convicted in front of a papal kangaroo court, my only defence was
to proclaim –
`The ugly cow was lucky to get a bit of sausage because no
one in his right mind could get a hard on to stick into it. I mean – the only compassionate comparison to
her would be a cross between a jelly fish and a piranha, and I just describe
her vagina. As for her face… have
you ever had a proper look at an elephant’s anus?’
It was all to no avail, and I was condemned to be burnt at the stake. The
crowds loved it – I did not and demanded the
cost of my entry ticket to be reimbursed.
Still, the Devil took one look at me and refused entry, God also and into limbo
I went – but that caused a riot. The
two agreed to send me back – I
happily agreed but suggested that due to what happened in 1756, could they… sort of send me to another time?
Lo and behold – it was done. And? I have
taken over the body and sub-human brain of a teenager wandering around some
stinking hot bush in a place called Gokwe. To be honest – I was disoriented.
There
were, so called, stick mates who attempted to explain it was my job to kill bad
men or get killed. Which I considered rather pointless.
So I muddled along and wrote a book about the adventures – settled in Germany and all is good.
The End.
