It
has now been several months since Brexit and Frexit, the two like
bumbling clowns on the global stage of the life. Temporary allies on
the world stage, the world the crowd for their act. Guillotined
women's heads like rubbery spheres for the juggling. Not caring how
young they die.
Everyone
knows the girl to poor to afford real shoes. Her family had perfected
the craft of hand carving a pair of wooden clogs, as well as knitting
thick stockings for the Winter occasions. A Dutch family having moved
from the Netherlands, they lived in a farming town outside of the
city where everyone wore modern clothes. They still maintained the
custom of leaving your clogs at the door. There was a bit of the
Southern US superstitious flare of knocking twice on the Chimney,
where they hoped they could allow Santa's elves to listen to how they
are creatures prone to mistakes, and tend to try to be good people.
Clearly
they were not familiar with the fact that Saint Nicolas was very
likely an evil person himself, although not necessarily a pedophile.
Although I wouldn't necessarily put it past him to spank little
children who he personally deemed as naughty on that particular
Christian holiday borrowed from Paganism. They idea of anybody
clinging onto any kind of belief to be out of a matter of tradition
had always been a very foreign concept to me having come from a
family with largely no traditions.
Despite
the generally abusive nature of my dad strangling me, he was also
surprisingly liberal for the area. For one he did not personally
believe in capital punishment as neither do I, although this was
largely prior to the invasion by France. The Post Nazi German
Preservation party had kicked into full gear in Europe and were
beginning to mirror the Nazis in some of their practices. A family of
dark haired Dutch people visiting the US made a lot of temporary
sense, despite the fact that France was every bit as imperialist, and
that had been the case for the length of the previous months. One
could justify it as North vs South, but there was some other thing
going I suspected they were not telling the people. It was still
strange meeting such a cute Dutch girl!
She
had just turned nineteen, with Anna-Marie and Lisa-Marie having both
turned a year older. Her shape was like an hour glass with a larger
bottom than a top, her face having a small amount of baby fat she had
not completely grown out of, making her look younger. Don't get me
started on her black curls. It makes me wonder if there was some
other blood line in her veins.
She
had a bluntness and directness that was extremely soft, and not
anything like the crowd publishing girls I had met on the inter webs
when posting some of my fiction. It was the kind of directness and
smooth talking that would give anyone trans lady a hard on. "I
want to suck your cock." she could have said, and it would sound
the same as he gently chiding me about my cleaning habits. So it was
always a joy--with Anna-Marie's permission, to lead me into the
bathroom in order to shower and bathe me. I'm not the regretful of
talking into keeping her clogs on, saying I really like her wooden
shoes.
Her
hair was more reminiscent of the color of my first girlfriend, who
she inadvertently brought back memories of when I lost her. It was
then I made the determination I would help my friends save themselves
rather than them relying on me to save them.
If
only I could take care of myself.
Anna-Marie
popped in, not seeming to care if I was naked. She blushed slightly,
and then smiled. "Dinner is ready! I decided not use knives this
time."
"We'll
be out in just a minute you." said the Dutch girl. Aim Key said,
her name Aim Key, because she could fire a crafted key into a door
lock with her flick of the finger tips, and have that much more time
saved to open the door. For here on out for simplicity we shall call
her "The Aimer."
"I
thought I'd said I'd make dinner." I said.
"Do
you still not trust me, despite how far I came to see you?" She
covered her right eye, almost as if to cover a tear. "I hate
bladed implements."
"Good
job Hemato, you just hurt her feelings." said The Aimer.
"No
no, sharp angular blades give me issues." Anna-Marie said.
Despite everything else having recovered including vocal training,
there was still some aspect of her execution she didn't forget.
"Sorry,
not fine. Thanks for making dinner." I mumbled something about
hoping we don't all get poisoned, as I didn't want Anna-Marie to be
beheaded again. There was no sure thing the surgeon would reattach
her head again. He may well jack up the price just because he can.
"You're
still a prick." said The Aimer, with a kind of half seriousness,
abrasively brushing my junk and down, causing me to almost ejaculate
if it were not for the fact that doing so brings back memories of my
childhood.
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