Describe, prescribe

HONEST-TO-GOODNESS surveillance was carried out for more than six  months… thorough extirpation spree came at the heels, each member of the  official’s family— surviving next of kin, wife, sons, daughters, and  grandchildren– were sent to an early date with embalmers.

It  was needless at burial rites to cue for crocodile’s tears that poured  awash like cash the official had appropriated for himself over the  years.

Ambuscade right after the last of his kin was interred…  official was spared, though. He was pumped several clips of small  caliber slugs that tore out both patellae, shredded his penis and  scrotum and sent him on his knees begging his masked attackers to put  him away… with a view to a reunion with kith and kin in a comfy, fiery  place reserved for their kind…

His plea bargaining was politely  ignored with a solemn collective salute. They wanted him to live, maybe,  enjoy or endure his cache of millions… live on as a derelict.

It  was a priceless gift of life—his own—that the bushwhackers were  generous to bequeath him… for it was beneath human dignity to butcher a  cockroach.

No mockery or scorn was meant in serving him a daily  dish of flounder—palatably dainty with notes of marine depths  unfathomed—and greasy slabs of pork bellies in a savory sauce the color  of taxpayers’ blood and sweat… thus, his remaining days and monies were  spent in a well-appointed home for the aged.

Thus, he lived in a  semblance of comfy ease until he croaked his last… apparently, he grew  larger than a barrel of blubber with such a prescribed diet and burped  dead… many suspected it was a heart attack but there were equally valid  suspicions that he didn’t have a heart.

Doc Childre and Howard  Martin: “The collective energy generated from the feelings, thoughts,  and attitudes of the almost six billion people on this planet creates an  atmosphere or ‘consciousness climate.’ Surrounding us like
the air we  breathe, this consciousness climate affects us most strongly on energetic and emotional levels.”

My dear children, that’s the  flimsy excuse I can proffer as to why I don’t bother to chip in my two  cents’ worth on graft and corruption… truckloads of more capable  journalists and opinion makers will be sounding out volumes and summon  the proverbial Furies, rail atop soapboxes and shoeboxes and slather the atmosphere with futile rage…

I’d  rather pray in earnest to the angels of destruction, Kemuel and  Simkiel… to do the honors and useful horror of doing the needful, maybe  send several crates of .50 caliber ammo and an M-107 Barrett rifle that  can take out targets a kilometer off… –Dong de los Reyes

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