Some people…

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Why is it some people just have to be muy dramatico all the time? With some it is ridiculous and absolutely everything has to be a long drawn out trauma…

Ebola and The Ivy Apts in Dallas, Texas

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Here are some pics I have taken of the Ivy Apts and Jack Lowe Elementary/Tasby Middle School. I snapped them during the time the CDC was decontaminating the apartment Mr Duncan visited while in Dallas, Texas. They are from my other blog and from my Instagram account.

http://katharick.blogspot.com/2014/10/ebola-and-ivy-pts-dallas.html

Baldy

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I saw Baldy today. He reminds me of a much more buff Timothy Olyphant in the movie Hitman…

You see I have been threatened by Tom Clark and co about a certain individual from the Middle East, Dubayy to be exact, contracting with a few real leg breakers to pay me a visit and kill me.  I was told they would be well trained in the art of killing.  You know, military, hand-to-hand combat (mano y mano) and the like.  I yawned yesterday when it didn’t happen.  I yawned the day before that when it didn’t happen.  I yawned the day before that… well, you get the picture.  I still yawn.  I yawn and I yawn and I yawn.  So Tom Clark can watch me and threaten me but not actually pull the trigger, then?  What happened since the last time he tried to kill me?  Did he become weak in the knees?  Did he get much too old for that sort of thing and have to contract out?  Did he get weak?  I’ll say this much: the man is delusional.  He really does believe that I will be his wife and that he can take me away with him to where he comes from via my murder.  That is what he told me anyway… what filthy rot I say!  I’d rather the attempts on my life than a life with that filthy freak show.

Anywho, yesterday (30 September 14) I decided to pay a visit to HalfPrice Books in Dallas, Texas.  And that is where I saw him.  Baldy.  I don’t know what his name is and the name Agent 47 is already taken so I shall call him Baldy.  Yes, Baldy works…

I sat in the Community Room, you know the QUIET room where no one is supposed to talk, esp on mobile phones… yes, that room.  I had just finished writing my short subject mocking witchery titled Siren and was half finished writing my other short subject I titled Another when I looked up and saw him.  The man was tall and rather good looking.  He wore a light blue polo shirt, tan pants, dark brown (suede?) shoes.  He carried a huge, dark rucksack filled with (guns?  hand grenades?) what I don’t know.  The moment he walked into the room it was obvious he was military and special ops.  I quickly realised he wasn’t trying to hide the fact but rather he was intentionally broadcasting it and wanted others to see him.  What vanity I thought.  He just had to know there were surveillance cameras in the bookstore and he seemed to want all eyes on him.  Then he sat at the table next to mine and made a show of setting his books down on the table and taking his time to arrange them so I could read the titles.  I smirked to myself.  The writer in me was thinking he went all out to impress me.  I laughed quietly and decided to read the titles of his books.  Blackwater, and two books by Dennis Lehane: Mystic River and A Drink Before the War.  Interesting choices I thought.  Esp the bit about Blackwater.  Can Baldy be more obvious?  What was his story anyway?  Who is he?  He did seem out of place

and now I wanted to know about him.  I guess his plan worked.  I noticed him but how many others did, too?  Many I would think.

Next he took out a medium sized spiral notebook and huge very white headphones.  He read a bit and moved his books around.  He rummaged through his rucksack.  I kept looking at his books.  So, Okay, you like to read about military and police trained special ops type mercenaries who contract within the Middle East esp Iraq where some of your comrades got into a bit of trouble for killing Iraqi civilians…

 

Yesterday at Mickey Diseased…

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Yesterday I went to Mickey Diseased to work on my laptop and enjoy mi cafe. I was accosted by a strange vagabond man who kept repeating himself. He wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t quite understand what he was mumbling but I did catch some of his words: “The police are criminals… the government is corrupt…” Apparently this was the most coherent he was to be and the most I could make of his words is that he believes the US government to be a corrupt one, the Dallas PD is corrupt and evil (?) that only is meant to hurt people, that I shouldn’t trust the police, etc, as they would hurt me, my daughter wouldn’t be able to do something in the future… he was strange and very disturbing especially when he looked at my 09-year-old… and he smelled something foul… not to be mean since he was clearly quite an unfortunate individual as he is most likely not going to get out of his current predicament. He was just too negative for me. He was what I would call a negative or demon force if you know what I mean… he was just awful… just awful and I instinctively felt the need to protect my little one…

Siren

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SIREN
Katharick d’Esparzo
(Yet another story I am posting while I write… do be kind…)

Cast of Characters, Principal:
Siren/Sirene………. nutter Muslim witch who is to be executed for practicing witchcraft

Cast of Characters, Minor:
Abdul… a jailor in charge of Siren’s execution
Haya… a Muslimah in charge of Siren during her incarceration

SCENE ONE: DUBAI AT NIGHT
The hapless Siren, thinking herself much above the rest of humanity, is enjoying her last day of freedom before being arrested and executed for witchery.

Siren (boasting; a bit too proud of herself):
“I am a goddess!!!”

Siren screams loudly, and begins running in circles waving her arms wildly above her head. The shrieks coming from the Muslim witch pierce the night sky.

Siren:
“I am a goddess!!! Imagine being me!! Me!! Me!! Me!!”

Passers-by cannot contain their amusement and do not bother to stifle their laughter. Siren doesn’t care. She never cares. Siren’s only concern, her only interest is in being Siren the Witch. Siren the Muslim Witch is even better. Siren likes to shake it up and rattle people’s cages and being a witch in the Middle East does just that. And it amuses Siren immensely. Even now with her arrest looming Siren still doesn’t care about anyone but herself.

Siren:
“I shall be a martyr to my cause!”

Siren has said this over and over again. Most people didn’t realise what she meant. They didn’t understand it, either, but Siren knows what she knows or at least what she believes will happen and a martyr she will become she says.

Siren:
“I am a witch!!! Looks at me, everybody, look at me!!!”

Siren is seen dancing about.  She is waving her arms, running her hands through her hair, Siren even throws pocketful of gold glitter at people, blessing them with riches and much wealth from the desert gnome of money.  She is quite the spectacle and behaving quite the fool even if everyone but Siren herself can see this.

Siren:
“This is from the money gnomes! Be blessed people, be blessed!!!”

Suddenly, two police officers arrive on the scene.  It is apparent someone in the growing crowd has notified the authorities.  It is quite offensive for someone to be publicly and so brazenly publishing themselves to be a witch.  Many people in the conservative emirate are rightfully offended by Siren’s antics.

As Siren is being led away she begins chanting spells at the people she sees.  She first curses then blesses the men who are taking her away.  And away she goes…

SCENE TWO: UP THE CLANK

Siren can be seen to make a nuisance of herself.  Flirting madly with the male police officers she bats her false eyelashes and asks the most ridiculous of questions thinking herself quite clever.

Siren:

“I’m hungry…”

Abdul:

“What would you like to eat, Sirene?”

Siren (lowering her voice thinking it sexy):

“My name is Siren.  And do you have sex stew?  It’s a local favourite with witches.  Quite tasty, too.”

The men and women in the police station laugh uproariously.  They know they are in for quite a treat and Siren isn’t planning to disappoint them.

Abdul (laughing at the nutter witch):

“Your name card reads Sirene Zal.  Is this your name?”

Siren (still speaking in her sexy voice; indignant):

“I told you my name.  I am a witch!”

Abdul (trying to steady himself; being professional):

“I understand your name to be Sirene Zal.  Is this correct, ma’am?”

Siren (standing up tall, throwing head back and neighing like a horse):

“I am a Siren!!!  Do you feel my heat?”

Siren begins singing and prancing around the police station.  She is prancing like a burglar might in a musical.

Abdul:

“Do you feel well, Sirene?”

To this question the others in the police station laugh.

Siren:
“Do you feel sss-ee-xx-y?”

Siren begins running her hands through Abdul’s hair. At this Haya, a Muslim woman who works in the police station, takes over.

Haya:
“Okay, Sirene…”

Siren (twirling around to face Haya; indignant):
“The name’s SIREN! Just like fire engine red!!!”

Haya (ignoring Siren’s demented behaviour):
“Now, Sirene, several complaints have been made against your disorderly conduct.”

Siren (indignant; standing up straight and flaring her nose like a horse):
“Nonsense!”

Haya:
“Are you feeling well, Sirene?”

Siren (still indignant):
“I feel well, thank you very much! Now, what do you want from me?”

Haya (raising her eyebrow):
“I have just told you, ma’am. Several people have called us with complaints against your behaviour.”

Siren:
“There is nothing wrong with my behaviour!”

Haya:
“Do you believe your behaviour today has been erratic?”

Siren:
“Nonsense! I wish to leave this place.”

Siren begins to march her way, with quite the flourish of course, out of the building. However, she is stopped before she makes three steps.

Siren:
“Take your hands off me!”

Haya:
“Now, Sirene…”

Siren:
“I told you me name! I am a siren! I’m a witch!!”

Haya:
“So you admit it?”

Siren:
“I told you I am a witch!”

Haya:
“Do you understand what you are saying?”

Siren (indignant once more; proud):
“I know perfectly well what it is I am saying!”

Haya:
“Are you telling me you are a witch?”

Siren:
“Yes. I am a witch and I can cast spells, too!”

Haya:
“And do you cast spells, Sirene?”

Siren:
“Yes! I am a most powerful witch! There isn’t anything I can’t do!”

Haya:
“Okay.”

Siren:
“I am like the wind!!!”

Haya (eyebrow rising again):
“Are you sure you feel well, Sirene?”

Siren:
“I am the the wind and the rain!!! Do you feel it? I am the fire and the night! I am the water, the fire, the earth, the air!!!”

Here, Siren begins rubbing her hands all over her body. She begins spinning around in place while rubbing herself and her hair.

Haya:
“Perhaps it is for the best if you were to sit down and rest, Sirene? What do you think?”

Siren:
“I am a goddess!!! A witch goddess!! A witch goddess!!”

Siren next extends her arms and begins spinning in circles all about the police station. The others cannot contain their amusement at this point and watch in delight and disgust.

Attendant in police station One:
“What a nutter!”

Attendant in police station Two:
“Oh, no, she’s a witch, remember?”

Attendant in police station One:
“Yeah, a nutter witch! Execute her already! Why be nice to her? She’s insulted us enough!”

Haya, wanting to break up the now rising anger against the witch, tries to sit her down. Haya firmly grabs Siren by her left arm and when Siren pulls away Haya roughly sits her down hard in the wooden chair facing her own seat at her desk.

Haya (barking orders):
“Now sit!”

Siren (trying to rise):
“But I don’t want to! I am a witch!!”

Haya (quite stern):
“Sit and be quiet! Don’t speak unless you are spoken to.”

Attendant in police station One:
“Disgusting!”

Siren:
“What is?”

Haya:
“Now about your name…”

Siren:
“I told you I’m a witch!!”

Haya:
“You are a Muslim, Sirene, are you not?”

Siren:
“Oh, yes!!! I am a Muslim and a witch!!!”

In the police station can be heard gasps, angry grunts, whispers…

Haya:
“Now, Sirene, you do know it is absolutely impossible…”

Siren (interrupting with glee):
“To be a Muslim and a witch?!!? Yes, I know, isn’t it great?!!?”

Haya (still stern, growing impatient and angry):
“No, Sirene, it is not great. It is in fact extremely offensive. Your behaviour today has be most unacceptable.”

Siren:
“Why? Is it because I’m a witch?”

Haya looks at Siren and folds her hands before her. Placing them on her desk, Haya speaks slowly, clearly.

Haya:
“I am trying to be fair here, Sirene. I am trying to work with you but you won’t be reasonable.”

Siren:
“Do I refuse to act rational? Is that what you are saying to me?”

Haya:
“In a word, yes.”

Siren:
“You do know when you murder me…”

Haya:
“You are not going to be murdered by me or anyone else, Sirene. Where you got this notion of mur-…”

Siren:
“And what do you call it again?”

Haya:
“Sirene, you know well your crimes and the proper punishment…”

Siren:
“Oh, yes, you are going to execute the Muslim witch!!!”

Haya:
“There is no such thing.”

Siren:
“Ah, but your wrong! That is what I am. Do I frighten you then?”

Haya:
“You disturb me, Sirene…”

Siren:
“Now why do you keep calling me that?”

Haya:
“Because that is your name.”

Siren begins rubbing hands together and smiling ear to ear.

Haya:
“Is there something amusing about this matter, Sirene?”

Siren (still smiling; in a sing-song voice):
“Oh, no, no, there isn’t…”

Haya:
“Then why do you smile so?”

Siren (standing up in place, clapping her hands very loudly, repeteadly):
“It’s just because you have made me a martyr to my cause!”

Haya:
“Sit down!”

Siren:
“When you murder me, the fairies of the desert will rise against you!”

Haya:
“Oh, shall they now?”

Siren suddenly sits down.

Siren:
“Oh, yes!”

Haya:
“And where are these fairies now, Sirene? Why haven’t they risen against us by now? Can you tell me?”

Siren:
“Why, yes I can!”

Haya:
“Then please do!”

Siren:
“It is because they wait and bide their time.”

Haya:
“Oh, but of course, of course… are they afraid of me, Sirene? Your little fairies?”

Siren:
“Oh, they may be small now but when they do become angry they quite grow in such a size you’d be amazed!”

Haya:
“I doubt that, Sirene.”

Siren:
“Please stop calling me that! The Desert Fae have named me Siren and that is the name I shall be known as.”

Haya:
“As you wish then.”

Siren:
“Yes, Siren.”

Haya:
“Now, then…”

Siren:
“And they aren’t, you know.”

Haya:
“They aren’t what?”

Siren:
“Why afraid of you, silly!”

Siren begins acting like a little girl. She twirls her hair and speaks in a baby voice.

Attendant in police station Two (sarcastic):
“And here I thought you were sss-ee-xx-y!!!”

There is much laughter in the police station. Even Haya tries to suppress her smiles.

Siren (still speaking in her little girl voice):
“Yes, I am that, too! The Fae told me so!”

Suddenly, and without warning, Siren begins neighing like a horse at the top of her voice.

Haya:
“Sirene, please sit quietly or I shall have to restrain you.”

Siren continues neighing loudly. She now imitates a horse, using her foot for the animals hooves.

Siren:
“I am a goddess! I am a witch!!”

Haya:
“And exactly how do you know you are a witch, Sirene?”

Siren (neighing in between words):
“Because the Fae told me so!”

Haya:
“And when was this, Sirene?”

Siren:
“When I was in Ajman! That’s where they live! After you murder me I shall go to be with them in their underground lair where they shall protect me forever more!”

Haya:
“Is that right?”

Siren:
“Yes! Yes! Yes! That is where the Ajmani Fae protect all their witches!!! Long live The Fae!”

At this point Siren stands up and begins running around and around the police station. She alternates neighing like a horse and making cuckoo sounds. She also screams like a banshee and rubs her hands all over everything she sees.

Siren:
“I am a goddess! I am a witch!! Come Fae, come save me, come save!!!”

The End