Night Rage: Can it get any better?

The dark twisting road provided a lot of intrigue and excitement. Stippy had some party music booming out of the car stereo. It was one beast of a car, a Maroon colored 2007 BMW M6 capable of hammering the road at almost 500 horsepower. While zipping effortlessly on the empty stretch of road like a snake…the ambient lighting of the dashboard was the only sort of illumination inside the car , mixed with the music gave a surreal feel to the events taking place inside.

What was happening was already surreal, it didn’t need the additional effect. They were all in a surreal state of existence. Stippy had too much to drink, and snorted too much coke. As for the girl…well he met up with her she was already on something, maybe just booze maybe more.. he was too distracted by her rack to care to know. She was also quite responsive, flirting with him all night, all she was looking for was a good time, maybe even she’ll give him what he wants in the end if she feels he’s earned it. She thought she can get herself out of any sticky situation because she’s done it many times before, with more adept men. Despite that, she might have not been that attracted to him as much as she was attracted to the burgundy leather seats of the car, the car itself, and the good times this Stippy can provide. She’d probably cross a few lines if she'd have to, all for the sake of pleasure, all for the sake of keeping this going. He’s fun.

Stippy was the needy type, however in return he’d give a lot, not because he cared, but because he had a lot. And what he was giving didn’t mean that much to him anyway. What’s a few thousand pounds of daddy’s easy money in exchange for a great night?

His neediness got him impatient. He wants that girl, he’s overloaded with desire. She’s not really that special, he just had a thing for female flesh, especially when it was trashy, it gave him instant feelings of superiority, the cornerstone of male sexual dominance.

He parked the car on the side of the road, under a pair of looming trees. He didn’t even pause at the girl to look how willing she was. He just turned the volume knob on the Harmon Kardon system that came with the car to drown the car into the mood, and just lunged at her chest. After he instantenously gratified his urge, he gave more attention to her needs, and started kissing her aggressively while not getting his hands off her 36Ds. With the both of them drowning in music and pleasure, the moaning and the involuntary vocalization attracted the attention of a nearby watchman.

The watchman yearned for a day like this. He heard of similar encounters happening to his peers, where the “boy” as they’d always refer to them would pay his way out of the debacle of getting caught with his pants down, sometimes the payment was quite rewarding. He remembered how Shabaan a few plots down boasted how he got 200LE off a kid in a Sephia. That’s half a months pay in 5 minutes.

The unnamed watchman got his trusted Naboot, and relentlessly went for the side mirror to scare both the living and dead daylights out of the so called “lovers”. After hearing the exhilarating effect of expensive glass and plastic shattering, he slammed his palm onto the windshield and yelled,

The muffled sound from inside the car emitted a sudden shriek from the girl.

Stippy could barely make out what the watchman said

“يا ولاد النجسةََ إيه الفجر ده فاكريني قرطاس هنا ولا إيه”

Stippy panicked, and hit the gas pedal, he didn’t realize the tree that was dead on a collision course with the right headlight. He realized it after he hit the tree and felt the sudden inertia of 200 bhp stopped by an inanimate solid immovable. He shifted into reverse and the engine roared. His escape didn’t go as smoothly as he expected, he felt a sudden bump from the rear, and then he felt like he ran over something. He had an instant to review and assess the situation, too brief to realize the gravity of the situation, yet long enough to make a good decision about it. His thoughts resulted in one conclusion. Escape at all costs. He resumed his reverse and felt something brittle crunch under the tires. He didn’t stop until what he ran over was in a pool of Xenon light in front of him.

It was the watchman.

He stared at him for what seemed like forever. Until he saw him move. The girl beside him was in hysteria and tears. He opened the door and went into the pool of light to examine his doing. The remains of the watchman were still writhing in its final minutes. His chest was caved in as if it were inverted, and something was awfully wrong with the resting position of his right leg on the asphalt. You need to have no knees to rest it in that position. Blood was being coughed out of his eyes and nose, and seeping from behind his eyeballs onto his cheeks. The blood on his face and chest was mixed with dirt.. the left half of his face was drenched in the mix you can barely see his skin.

His eyes reflected the Xenon light straight intoStippy’s soul, he shivered. And realized what he had to do to help the man.

Stippy reached for the mans trusted Naboot, and went down on his face.

With every beat, he felt the man screeching on the inside, he knew he had no breath to let out the screech. The man gasped for a final gasp of air. Stippy directed the next seven blows to his chest, which let out any air in the mans now-failed lungs exit his mouth under spits of blood and drool.

The last three blows were directed to the mans skull, which now terminally caved in.

When he was done, the girl was seated on the ground next to him, with her knees by her chest all folded between her arms, with her own hair glued to her cheeks by an abundance of tears.

She gasped for air drastically. He gestured to comfort her. He approached her only for her to push him back yelling “leave me alone you murderer!”

The word got to him, however he wasn’t really realizing what was going on…the cocaine and the Jack Daniels made him Euphoric, he felt like a Monster, and nothing can stop him from his work. Not even a crying girl pleading for her life.

He left the scene with screeching tires, ruffling the dirt and broken glass, Naboot nestled beside him on the passenger seat. As for the girl…

Well she laid next to the Watchman, face down with one shoe on her foot, the other less than a metre away, choking on her own blood, her last moments of consciousness uttered the following:

“ أشهد أن لا إله إلا ألله و أشهد أن محمد رسول ألله”

In Servitude of Kings

First of all, I would like to offer my condolences to His Excellency the Prime Minister of the Arab Republic of Egypt, we are truly at a loss. His dearly Departed was what we would call a "morabeyya" meaning someone who raises children into men, it is a very general term that is given to anyone working in childcare, or actually believe it or not education. The Departed was in charge of several schools and was generally a philanthropist overseeing several development projects in education. Her Death comes a shock to us all, the truth of her illness was probably a well guarded secret.

Her dedication to Her beliefs and Her excellence as a Morabeyya can be clearly seen in the Two Sons that survive her. I cant say i am friends with either, but have dealt with one enough to tell, he is living proof of such excellence.

Streets were packed yesterday for the Funeral procession that took off from Al- Rashdan Mosque, With attendance for all Statesmen was socially obligatory, I need not tell you what security probably was like.

But it was a generally sombre mood.

The Night though...was surprisingly Jovial...Cause its the Big Guy's Birthday...apparently someone thought it would be a great idea to have a fireworks display on the banks of the Nile, to commemorate the Big Guy on his special day.

Is this what one would call a nation having sex after a funeral?

Or is this just being in blind Servitude of Kings...

Sigh why am i complaining, I also did my part...right there...at the top..

PS. I hate Cops...

Of Money and other Banknotes and Currencies

The Seventies were surely a good decade to make it big, The Eighties a good time to be notorious and the nineties a sure darn good time to spend in prison, or six feet under.

Woulda been cool rubbin shoulders in a club with John Delorean, Christina Onassis only to in less than a flash spot Robert Maxwell who thought he was too cool for school. All that while John Gotti was sippin fine wine in a little Italian restaurant in Brooklyn plotting how to hit old man Castellano.

Forgive me for being so fucking nostalgic, but I hate eastern European chiquittas making it big somewhere else in the world, I hate good looking guys who make it in one movie that actually flopped and now they give themselves an excuse to go all superstarry on everyone, and in this day and age, that is the closest you will ever get
“Ta beein a Heeroe!”
*God bless Bobby DeNiro*

I’ve been engaged recently with a guy, lets call him Bigbird.. he has immense amounts of product that needs to be distributed, he cant find the right channels and is looking for a facilitator. This guy’s way of doing business is sitting on your local ahwa, and pickin a favor from his next door neighbour, who regardless of how small time he can be, Big Bird thinks he’s the best at his game.
He wants to expand now, realized he’s smalltime, and wants to hit the big scene. So he wants to do it “the right way” or so he thinks it is the right way.
He wants to roll in a jag, (benzes are so last century)…and he thinks Jags are American. He wants a business looking type front man… and to him anyone who correctly pronounces the word “port” is the business lookin type.
He claims he has 35 Billion LE, and everyone around him confirms that, yet he still meets in very weird places, I mean what kind of Billionaire exactly has a team meeting in mo’men el manial?

What makes me want to shoot myself in the head is, that this guy will make it big, with or without me, my way or his way, legal or illegal, he will make it big, and his kids will get into good schools, probably be classmates with my cousins kids..and pathetically enough, his kids will be the cool kids, and my cousins kids will feel like lesser beings in comparison to the little birds cause they have the cooler expensive toys, always invite everyone to their place to play in one of their 5 pools ( it’s the smaller one where the kids can pee in). All of this why?

Because today, in this day and age, its all about making money, not how you make it.
We’ve reached a point of obsession with money, that it doesn’t matter how its made anymore, we just want it, want people to have it so that we can deify them, they give us hope, that its possible for us to attain, that if the guy who used to sleep 8 in a room and overhear his parents fucking can now have a mansion to each of them , if that pip can have it, it gives us comfort that Goddamnit so can we.

We’d do anything, even step on our own values, sole name traders and multinational corporations alike. Whats ridiculous is, this newfound pursuit or system entrenched us into doing the ridiculous. Law school graduates driving cabs for a living cause its more lucrative, Harvard school dropouts becoming the worlds richest men, and Harvard graduates driving Japanese cars…or even working in a casino, where one day the biggest gambling whale walks in and they still ask em for their social security number. 2allak that’s the system, and the system never bothers anyone…hehehe…
*God bless Bobby DeNiro once more*

Do people really think its an achievement to swim in money? People…allow me to remind you in case you have forgotten, what the hell is money…
Its nothing but a promise…
A promise that one day, if you cash in this filthy piece of paper, that traded itself a hundred times over in its lifetime, changed hands from dirty to clean, some dude with remnants of shit from wiping his ass, stuck in the cleavage of some sweaty old hag cause she doesn’t have enough of it to buy a purse , or even up the nose of a rockstar to snort some Charlie with it, that well traveled highly contaminated piece of paper is nothing but a promise like I said, that one day, if u turn it in, to The Queen, or Alan Greenspan or that big building downtown, they will give you its worth in gold.

And just in case you didn’t know, it is surely an empty promise.
So we poison one another for a promise
Kill one another for a promise
Sell our souls and bodies ( prostitutes and hard workers) to be worthy of being promised.
You get the idea…
And beleive me, I aint one of those people who dont make money, so the whole "the people who say money is the root of all evil are the ones who dont have enough of it..." doesnt really apply here

Moving on, I hope you also know that money doesn’t get you anything, it is merely a means, it should be used to refine your life, not define it. Life’s problems aren’t solved with money alone…

I mean with all the money in the world, you still have to take care of your health, Billionaires do not buy an immunity from Cancer, HIV, or Heart Disease, you still have to be charming and have a character to win some lady’s heart, money does not get you women ( if you disagree, look at all the arabs on gameat el dowel street in summer, they aren’t charming khales) you still need a job, fuck it you will open up your own thing? And do what run it? Don’t you need erm skills for that? If you have them doesn’t it require effort habibi? Running a business aint easy, 90% of the people I know running their own thing are suffering, if not failed and no, not all my friends are losers.
You still have to be a good parent, yes with money you can get them what they want, but is that all it takes to being a parent?
Last but not least, the million dollar question, happiness…does it really buy happiness? Then why are all the movie stars so lonely and depressed? Why do those living a life of extravagance and abundance always have these sad looks on their faces and never content with what they have?

Real wealth is intangible, it doesn’t come with an account number and pin number, and guess what, despite that it can never be stolen, it has your name on it…however, Money has the name of your Treasury on it,

Real Wealth brings fame, it is what is really coveted, and believe it or not, it doesn’t need a grammy or an oscar to keep it…its there and it stays, even if the highlight of your day is sitting on an ahwa off Lebanon street.

Real Wealth brings love, even if you are the worlds biggest bum…

Real Wealth brings happiness, cause you can never tell what is going to happen between the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep, but you know…whatever happens in between, its going to be okay.

Admit it…
I have a point

Comin Up in the World dont trust nobody gotta look over your shoulder constantly!

The long awaited part three of the trilogy...[ See wanna be a superstar and live large five cars...]

Okay its not exactly the long awaited climax of a cool story, they are all just similarly themed:

Damien King awoke sweating profusely at around 3am...normally he would be wide awake, but he is trying to live healthy as instructed by his forboding doctor who told him Heart Disease might be coming around the corner. King being the Egomaniac he is, wouldnt allow such a feeble and unseen enemy bring him down.

It was a dream about to turn into a nightmare, but you had the privilege of being within the dream and knowing its just a dream, hence the convenience of getting up when it gets too much.

He just didnt realize how anxious it made him when he saw the pool of sweat he awoke in.

He picked up his phone, dialled a precalled number and uttered the following words...

"Simon, go ahead...get it done..." and hung up...he lit a cigarette and went to the balcony in his Pj bottoms with nothing on top...

On the other side of the phone was Simon, sitting at the back room of a cabaret downtown, one with very sleazy and shady patrons, mostly helpless people with a few pounds in their name, with nothing to escape but some local beer sold at 10 pounds a bottle and some hashish, 7 to a coin. Simon was in the back, with cheap whiskey and a game of cards with 4 guys who werent the best, but were just downright fun to play with. The room was full of smoke and an upbeat Muddy Waters was playing in the background in a failed attempt to contrast the sha3bi rifraff playing in the main hall. He motioned to his goon standing in the corner to get the car ready...

"Yalla ya Spiko!!!" he shouted "Hizz om teeezak el te2eela dih we khaleek mofeed"

King was halfway through his cigarette, overlooking the front garden to his vast villa, when he noticed the two guards on the gate werent at their station...

"the fucks are probably playing cards again" he thought...

He thought of cutting them some slack at the end, he is a nice guy contrary to what everyone would like to beleive. He looked to the left of the garden, but something caught his eye...a shadow, rolling quite quickly accross the garden.

In less than an instant, the cigarette fell from his mouth and he ran back into the room, to under the bed where he kept an M70 courtesy of the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan. He picked up the cellphone on his short journey to the bed and commanded in a very matter of fact to the head of security...

" We have a Security Breach ya shater...You'd better die protecting this house, because if you survive, I will kill you myself.." and hung up.

After kneeling under the bed to pull out the killing machine, he heard a hammer cocking into firing position. It was close enough to actually feel it between his ears...

There was a gun to his head...

He put his hands up...

"Inta faker nafsak meen ya batal" he said challengingly without even seeing a face to the threat that could take his life in a second...

" أنت عملت فيا كده ليه؟ أنا جيت جنبك؟ هو خلاص البلد بإللي فيها بقي بتاعك؟"

"أيوه حاجة كده، أنا سايبلوكو كل إللي نفسكم فيه تبرطعوا براحتكم، بس نيجي عند حاجتي أنا...ولا..... البلد ديه ليها ريس يابا و انت حاطت طبنجه في قفاه!"

It only took the assailant that tiny little statement to realize he is committing 7amaqa howwa mesh 2adaha... he'd love to say sorry and make it go away, but he knows its too late for that, he is going to have to go through it till the end...

and become the Superstar....

he remembered his knees, how it felt, how he spent more than enough as a helpless handicap...all because this fuck felt like it. It gave him enough fury and rage to go through with it.

He felt like pulling the trigger, but no...he wanted the guy to plead for his life. He wanted to make the King beg...

He was too drowned in his own thoughts to notice Ashraf the head of security barge into the bedroom with a Desert Eagle pointing at him..

Shot Fired...

right in Wannabe CEO's right forearm...his gun landing on the floor, he followed suit yelping like a dog just hit by a Range Rover.

King stood up, faced the wounded dog, thanked the Range Rover that was now idling and waiting for any sudden moves..

King then looked Wannabe in the eye...and asked the dog to say its name...

Robert...Robert Zombetti...

" How are your knees Rob?...I see you are feeling alot better..."

[ Cut Scene...EXT - Night- Korean Car- The Prodigy - Their Law booming out of stereo- Car speeding downtown, screeching tires at every turn , conversation starts as they pass gomhoreyya theatre]

Spikko: So who do we do first?

Simon: shut up and drive, we pick X up first and then go to Sohba Cafe in Helio, thats where El Bob is...

Spikko: is it really going to happen?

Simon: Just do as you are told...and light me up a cigarette

They arrived at Sohba, X went in, to find El Bob, sitting in a corner smoking a shisha...he gesutred for Bob to leave, Bob asked why...X didnt know what to do, he cant tell him they are taking care of him..he's been a stand up man, but even stand up men have to go when the boss says...

X: we're downsizing...

El Bob had a shocked look on his face...just when he was about to enquire...X could read his face...and nodded..

El Bob: make it quick...

X just pulled out a gun and shot him in the face...in the middle of onlookers..

Seed was seated in a nice armchair, the best chair in Little Willy's house..Little Willy was fidgeting with his i-pod trying to select an appropriate track as background music to the conversation he was about to open up with Seed..

" So you happy now that you are made?" asked Willy...you can tell he was suggestive of something, maybe even something big, hes long been forgotten since that thing last year, and he missed the spotlight,

the precursor of doing something very very silly...

" Its okay, Willy...3o2balak" Seed replied, trying to close the subject...

" Kollak nazar yabolsid..."

Seed then took a minute to gather his thoughts, and carefully selected his next words...he decided casual would be the best way to handle it.

" You think i have a hand in it? you actually think i would throw in a good word for you if i actually did?"

That statement shocked willy, and he dropped his i-pod and looked at Seed..who was now holding a revolver and pointing it at Willy..

"YOU FUCK...YOU TRAITOR!!!" Willy yelled

" Im not the traitor Willy, you are.."

A few minutes later, after heartwarming and bone tingling pleads for sparing...Seed picked up his phone and tried to drown out the sound of willy gurgling and trying to breathe through the blood flowing in his windpipe..and said.."Simon..It's done...send someone to clean"

[ CUT SCENE - MORNING - INT- SUNSHINE POURING IN FROM LARGE WINDOW ON RIGHT- TV PLAYING THE SIMPSONS]

Jessica was laying on the couch with a cup of coffee infront of her, satisfying her childhood addiction of the yellow family with bulging eyes. She totally couldnt get the SMS she recieved last night...

all it said was " Vanilla Sky"

He's just trying to mess with my head she thought...

Halfway through the episode, she got a call from the bank, telling her the transfer she was waiting for from the caymans finally came through. She smiled subtly, as if someone was watching. She decided to get dressed early today.

King's Living Room was full of people, what happened last night was a situation that called for all cars to come in.

It was big, alot of changes would result.

Seed, Simon and Spykko (yes his spelling changes everytime...thats the point) were happy with the efforts they put in last night...King was still in the PJ bottoms, with blood spatter on them and refused to change until this is over. Sonja was working four different cell phones to get everything done, and Giselle Zero, the new girl in town was seated on a couch, cross legged left above right, and her left would occasionally bounce off her right out of boredom.

King: once again Giselle, Ill ask you...

GZ; Damien...I had nothing to do with it...

Simon: We all know your plans woman, dont insult our intelligence..

King motioned to Simon to stop the bullshit...and then said... "okay, thank you Giselle, if we need anything we will call Copper..."

With that said, Giselle courteously nodded to the presence in the room and was escorted outside to her special edition Dodge Ram driven by her female bodyguard Marla...

Simon: you know boss that she is lying through her teeth...

King: Simon, I know...we just cant do it this way...we will sort her out later, any news from the others ?

Seed: well they arent very happy you didnt discuss it first...

X: what about Rob?

King: later too... I want to make sure nothing has happened with our operations first...i want to hear from all the soldiers we have...

X: Giselles Driver, she looks familiar...where did we see her before...?

Simon: momken terakezz wennabi? kefayak basbasa 3ala mozaz...

When the time for Rob came...they were all gathered around a beaten down version of Rob hanging by chains, in the middle of a warehouse in el Darassa...King as usual arrived the latest in a silver Jaguar, driven by Simon...

They all walked in...

They all walked out...

3al Box 3edel....

* Think Three Chicks in Panties..jumping up and down on a bed..hi 5ing one another mid air *

Jessica, Giselle, and Marla back from the dead...all in the clear...

Trust no one...

The Things we step on in our pursuit to happiness

I encountered a freak this weekend, lets call him Rob Apparently I messed him up and never even noticed. It was a very long time ago, something close to 6 years ago. We had very minimal interaction ( or so i perceived it as such, he begs to differ).

He says hes been haunted by me for the past 6 years, he said i created a monster. this is what he had to say:

"You Must Suffer...You're a Mutherfucker...Resurrect me..."

I'm sick and tired of people blaming me for complexes bought about by a not so healthy childhood...I wasnt there and beleive me habibi, It wasnt my fault you walked in on your mother wearing a dildo ribbing your dad and hes calling her Fathy... I dont fix locks nor am i a paternal pimp...so to Rob, and all the others like you out there...
Really...
Fuck off!!

Pokerface

The Following is an excerpt of abstraction, it makes more sense out of context than within, it is for that reason in particular that it might not necessarily make sense as a piece of writing, it is merely reflective of what really goes on…it is not supposed to make sense, but make perfect sense in the same time for those who would relate..
Dedicated to all who have experienced something similar..

Bud sitting down with Tony Stark?....You must be Shittin me!!!
No, really I kid you not..it went down quite nicely..you see we were playin poker, at this club called the purple room…Tony as usual flashy as ever came out of an Aston Martin, one of those new One-77s with a low baller double whiskey in his hand turns out they’re only making 77 of them, no more…he had the chief of marketing calling him up to buy one.. this is what he had to say…

“The English are boring, they don’t know how to have fun… how do you expect to be a fun people when they eat fish and chips and religiously have tea at 5 …”

All of a sudden, a guy seated with them on the table speaks up…

“Sorry to burst your bubble tony, but the guys that gave the world Porsches and M series Beamers have sauerkraut as a national dish..”

The guy that spoke was called Maverick, some thinks he looks like Elvis..some think he looks like Lurch from the Addams Family…there was this guy once who so a portrait of Maverick’s young brother, and actually commented how he looks like Napoleon, whats funny is that Maverick’s younger brother actually looks like a retarded version of Eminem…

Maverick is quite a disgruntled man..he hates the fuck of everything…he doesn’t complain…he just ridicules, and always has a negative opinion about anything. Of course he enjoys just kicking it back with the guys, and anything that involves sport. He has a raspy voice, and always sounds like he’s lost his voice which gives him some sort of a badass demeanor, but he gives it all away with his guffaws and cheeky smile.

Tony, had to comment defensively,
“Excuse me? Who is this bigshot right here?”

Bud tried to cool things down, the last thing he wanted was to witness a member measuring contest, with two big overgrown egos playing honky tonk with one another.
He failed profusely…
They ended up challenging one another to a game of poker…
Texas Hold’em?
Nope…Ace’s and Eights…”Dead Man’s Hand” so it was Bud, Maverick, Tony Stark and a guy that looked like a guy who looks like Chewbacca meets Khaled Selim.. lets just call him player four.

You see the trick with Dead Man’s Hand, that initially the game is purely luck, depending on your hand and after the first two turns, you know if you are going to win or lose…then the fun begins, cause if you are losing, you can always bring someone down with you, playing dirty I know, but hey all is fair in love and war mais non?

Tony is selfish…he just plays to win…he’s gifted in making a good play with his hand, but not only is he a sore loser, he doesn’t tolerate people playing dirty..

Maverick is in it to make people lose, eat his dirt and then he wins…he’s been playing ever since God knows when, he learnt the game off his dad who was one of the first people to settle into Vegas…his dad after being banned off every casino table, used to run games at celebs suites, teaching them the game and earning a not so bad buck out of it, which kind of makes Maverick a second generation hustler.

Bud was never really into cards, mostly in it for the fun, winning and losing to him are one and the same, wouldn’t mind the extra money for sure, but will not bet any more than what would be safe, he enjoys getting people mad so practically will have fun busting Tony Stark , the legendary Arms producer. Normally, people who play the way he does are shunned off any serious table, but hey..he knows people, they like him around.

Then there was player four, well…he’s just player four.

The first few rounds you practically had Maverick owning the game with Tony not falling far behind. It was a battle for reputation between them, then there was player four, and finally Bud. Tony was practically delaying the game every time he had to throw because he was busy answering his phone, It frustrated anyone, but Tony was one of the people who didn’t expect the world to take offense at that, well for all its worth he didn’t expect the world to take offense at most of what he does, which if probably came from a lesser hotshot, would be downright offensive. Which makes me wonder why do we cut people a lot of serious slack for a lot of unserious people, because they’re famous, obnoxious, good looking or downright charming?
We Humans are fucking funny sometimes..

Player Four had the look of someone solving algebra on his face. It seems that catching up with the pace of the game seemed quite hard for him. He’s played plenty of times before, but next to them he seemed like the novice, the dunce of the group.

*Enter the intro of Diamond by Klint*

Player Four looking all suspicious and weary of people’s reactions before throwing the card in his hand, attempting to predict their next moves..

Both directed their speech to player four who has now been upgraded into their minds to mere amusement.
“So are you going to play today?” commented Tony Stark
“Dude, this aint the movies, just throw the card..its not gonna make any difference”

He throws an Eight of Clubs…
Bud lands the Ace of Clubs…with a look of victory on his face…and a deep raspy chuckle as he collects the cards and chips on the table like an ogre devouring a billy goat.

Player Four is fuming from the ears…”now how didn’t I see that one coming”
Maverick: Habibi, you gotta figure out all the angles in your head, you will never find the answer on people’s faces –see post title-

13 cigarettes between the three of them later, Player Four is officially the sucker although he’s scoring better than Bud…but Bud is just in it for the tease…

Tony couldn’t help but smirk…

“you know Bud..” Tony Commented “ You remind me of this guy…what was his name, the guy in that kung fu spaghetti western, what was it called…by that Italian guy…”
“Kill Bill…by Tarantino…” Maverick shot back
Tony continued…”yeah, Kill Bill…you see I never watch these movies, once I was banging some supermodel, and it was playing on the in-hotel cable channel, she actually stopped mid-fuck to repeat, Uma Thurmans one liners…then there was this monologue by a chink babe…and she had it memorized down to the punctuation. I just think its pathetic that people are into this shit, and give it cult status…I mean I’d get it if it were rock, but some guys acting like on screen heroes, that just bullshit…milking the cow if you ask me.”

Maverick: well coming from a guy who dresses up in an iron suit to fight crime, I really don’t see that much of a difference….

Tony: hey, theres no need to get smart on me raspy man…whats wrong with your throat anyway? Too much sucking cock? Someone get this guy a fucking pastille please, or better yet some gingerale and cinnamon…on me…can u just save your wisecracks and play some poker?

Bud: the man’s gotta point Tony…let him talk…but then again, I always thought he’s just in it for the fame…he cant be the real Iron Man..he’s just stealing some government commando’s credit… I mean I’m sure they are an entire platoon of highly trained men taking turns wearing that thing…would be cool if you can fly though..”

Tony: I've done alot more than fly with that thing, if you are a good boy i can have you wear it around your fucking trailer one day, just to say you did...

Bud: you know Tony, you are a real funny guy...

Maverick: yeah i bet all those girls just love your attitude dont they?

Tony: Hell yeah...you gotta show em whos boss...like this one time, this chick that worked at a museum i donated to, she was into this whole fetish shit, she wanted to rib me with a dildo..

Maverick: why not? you seem like the type...

Bud: hehe, oooow....nasty one their Tony...

Maverick: and whats you're problem Bud? why you commentating on the convo? he can figure out on his own that i am beating below the belt?

Bud: Well it seems that we are all doing pretty good below the belt here...except for poor little player four here who seems like hes hadnt any since he was teething?

Tony: did your mom ever give you whiskey for the pain when you were teething?

Bud: sure, what about you?

Tony: (chuckles,) how else did you think i got started on it? but lets get back to player four...whens the last time you got laid? did you get any this year aslan?

Player Four: its none of your business...

Maverick: he's just saving himself for marriage...

All: HAHAAHAHAHAHA

Player Four: come on guys can we just play?
All : Shut up!!!

As an instant reaction, player four just throws the cards on the table making a sloppy mess and almost spilling Tony Starks drink, which Tony juggled towards the table to protect like it were the Holy Grail – the signs of a true alcoholic- , afterwhich he ranted as to how unprofessional these legends turned out to be and threw a fit and left..

Tony Stark: What is wrong with that dickwad?
Maverick; forget about him, he takes cards very seriously… So when did you do that..thing..?

Black & White Heroes

Face it, you are a failure, you are pathetic. A waste of good polluted Oxygen. A disappointment to your parents, and if they don’t see you as such, then most probably they were a disappointment to your grandparents.
We are probably the gayest generation of men ( women you aint off the hook, I will get to you later) Ever produced. One would imagine with all the technology, benefits and conveniences our generation has, we would be a breed with nothing we can’t do. What do you get in reality, a breed of lazy couch potatoes that cry about their feelings, don’t take charge of their responsibilities and rely on stupid quizzes on facebook to discover themselves. A breed who blame everything around them for their shortcomings rather than looking at where the real problem lies.

Themselves…
Nobody likes admitting they are wrong, Don’t admit it to people, at least admit it to yourself and do something about it, if your boss is picking on you at work or is not seeing your potential, its not because he is blinded or is picking on you, It is cause you aren’t doing a good job in either standing up for yourself , or showing him how in 3 years you will be having his job. ( lets just hope he gets his boss’s job too).

Pushing back a hundred things to do cause you just cant be bothered? Who are we kidding, they’ll all pile up and then fall on your head, and when they do, you probably will be more “cant be bothered” then, than when you decided to push them back, and the bad news is…YOU WILL DO THEM…

Take Charge, Stop complaining, don’t be a wuss, its shameful and you feel it down inside.

We have the pompousness to believe that we are different, that our parents never had assholes for bosses, that they never felt oppressed by higher powers, that they never had to cope with work and a nagging partner ( how the hell do you think you showed up wimp?) , that they weren't underpaid, or never had to prove themselves? That they never wanted to go on a journey of self discovery where life would actually wait for them while they did.

What’s even lamer is, we have all the tools to become better men than our fathers, and we end up worse. First off before anything we have their guidance, when is the last time you went up to your father and asked him on how to tackle an issue? We have better awareness thanks to the internet and better journalism ( and when I say journalism I don’t in any way mean Oprah or the insider) we have bigger Egos, this should be curbed to tell you that you are the shit and that you can do anything, rather than pull it out on your friends and partner, and tell them you are too good for this shit. All these conditions combined dare us to dream bigger. Ask your dad about his ambition he probably just wanted a comfortable living when he was your age. I don’t think anyone of us would settle for just that, we are wired for more, planning on a lot bigger, but then again do we do anything to get it? Or do we just wanted served to us with a smile and comment card?

These are just three of the many reasons why we should be better men. I have yet to meet a man in my circle here locally, that actually pays for his tuition by a job after university hours, a man that lands a job because of his accomplishments rather than his last name, a man who knows where he wants to be in 2 years time, 5 years time, and 20 years time all in line with a goal other than “ I want to be an very important person in a very important place”

Women…
They aren’t any better if you ask me, I wont adhere to what they ought to want, I will just tell you on my meager experience with them and tell you about what they really want.

Women need to prove themselves, because they are struggling to make us believe that they are no less than Us. I will admit that Men have unknowingly contributed to the creation of this need. But two wrongs don’t make a right, for at the end of the day equality doesn’t mean I walk up to the next construction site to find a blonde with muscles in a sweaty flannel vest and grime with a hard hat lifting bricks…not because this isn’t where a woman ought to be, but because Women WANT to feel feminine, just as much as they want to feel no less than a man. They want to feel security, they want to be provided for, they all want to be princesses with their Knights in shining armor running for their rescue. Look at any supersuccessful career woman in her late fourties, not any woman that works, I am talking about the extreme typical stereotype…the single ones are miserable, the ones with lives outside of the office always messed up somewhere and someone who loves them secretly resents them for it.

Just like a woman cant lay brick, a man cant pick drapes, iron the entire family laundry, buy the groceries, clean the house and cook and pick up the kids from school by the time his partner is home without throwing a fit.

Both are as important , give the bread to its baker.
How many great men had housewives for mothers? And how many dysfunctional men had working mothers? Its not a general rule…a lot of great men spurned from the loins of a woman who juggled, and a lot of brats had their mommas at home 24/7 but look at causality before yelling in my face, the brat is a brat for other reasons, and the great man was a great man because he was born for greatness. You can prove yourself as a woman by being a great housewife, it’s a challenge and ask anyone who had to do it for a living.
Just think out of the box, success doesn’t need to be rewarded by a paycheck…

I’ll also throw in a good word for the ladies, the real ladies that manage to pursue their ambitions for a professional career without affecting their homes…these are the women I’d want to see all over the place, but lets be realistic I cant expect you all to be like my Mother and Fiancee… they both manage to always have time for me to the extent that I feel horrible due to the countless times I had to tell them sorry, Im busy…

With that said, I am sure you already have me labeled as old fashioned and I wont apologize for that, cause it shouldn’t offend you…it’s the way I’ve been made…

You got a problem with that…take it up with The Man Upstairs…

Livin Large, Big House, 5 Cars, You in Charge?

The Guy was small and lanky. The type you would automatically underestimate strictly due to his size and appearance. He is the truest living example of “looks can be deceiving”.
Some not so nice people call him “Seed” because you feel like he is about to germinate.
His demeanor calm, very relaxed…
His mind is like a high powered machine that never rests and enjoys the exercise.
A Calm charming smile.

Do not be fooled, if he gives you the chance to talk, it doesn’t in any way mean you are saying anything useful, even if you are talking shit…he will listen, because he expects you to do the same when he talks, even when he says shit…

You can never tell what is going on in his head. Some of his sworn enemies don’t even know that they are, to them they even might think they are his best friends.
A very smart man, and in no way helpless.

He was on his way back from the north coast where a mishap had occurred that required him to bandage his head, he got into a messy situation where wild nomads were running after him , their little boys throwing stones at him because he unknowingly offended them when he was their guest. He has a thing for exploring, and he finds peace in basic tribal like societies, he gets a kick out of walking in to a place like that and sits down with them, talks to them, learns something new maybe even teach them something new.
He is a man fascinated by difference, he seeks the other, and sits down to talk to them, to understand their choices, their reasons behind such choices, and maybe if you even convince him enough, he would adopt one of those choices if he finds it suitable.

A true modern day explorer.

He walks into the room, with a bandaged head under a straw fedora hat, and a T shirt that said “ You and What Army Muthafucka!!!”. Although his choice of attire wasn’t the most suitable, They all cut him some slack, its his big day. He can do anything the fuck he wants and get away with it.

Today, he is being made…

Seed walks into the room, greets the regular fellas he knows, socializes pleasantly, and greets everyone with a warm hug. Of course him being the thinnest man in the room does not give his hug that much punch, but it still does.

He approaches An oblong wooden oak table situated in the center of the room, with a small stainless steel bowl in the middle, an antique gold knife, and two lit candles.

On the other side of the table, seated on three identical armchairs were Sal “Shush” Spatafore, Mr. Adham and Damien King. They all acknowledged him with a slight nod.

As Seed approached the table, An old friend of his, Osiris Kane popped up from the right, in his signature Beret worn backwards, and Ray Bans…
Mr. Adham instructed Kane to proceed with the rituals, where Seed took off his hat to reveal the bandaged head.

Kane, took Seed’s right hand and pricked his forefinger, it bled…a small picture of St.Paul was on the table, Seed as coached smeared his bleeding finger on St. Paul’s picture, as he held it Kane set it alight and warned him…

Repeat after me Seed,
"You will Honor the Code, Omerta, the vow of Silence, You will never present yourself as one of Us, either to anyone, or to one of Us, another one of Us will always be there to do that, Never look at any of Our Wives, We will not allow anyone to look at Yours, Never be seen with cops, they are vile and will bring you ruin, Do not go to Pubs, Clubs, or places of Sin, Always being available to Our Thing is a duty, even if Your Wife is about to give birth, Appointments must be absolutely respected, Wives are to be treated with respect, When asked anything by One of Us, the answer must be Truthful, You may not covet money or objects of Our Thing, or other families, If you have a problem no matter how big, no matter how small, you come to us, and it will be taken care of Should anything God Forbid happen to you, we will take care of anything or anyone you leave behind, until your return, If you don’t we will still take care as if you were never gone…"

“ If you betray Omerta, your flesh will burn like this Saint”

Seed clenched the burning picture in pain…but didn’t show
A true man…

That night, he went out with The Big Three and Kane, it was part of the ritual, where he would be told what it means to be “Made”, the duties, responsibilities, and of course the perks and power he gets to have now that he is “a friend of ours”.

He was a good kid, the Big Three concurred, He’s earned it, Kane would look out for him, and if he had a problem with Kane God forbid, he would go to anyone of The Big Three, and they would have it taken care of.

It was a lucky month for Seed, not only did he get Made, he also made his debut on television. He’s originally a journalist, and wrote a controversial article about Foreign Policy, it caused quite a stir, and he was doing the rounds on many shows to talk about his unique prespective.

His First was the hardest, it was with Hannah Shaunz…

Enter the Slut…

She ran a very highly rated show, prime time, always had hot issues, and bought the people in charge…she’d grill them like kebabs… although in reality her substance is very weak , she manages to put on a good show by playing Devil’s Advocate…Staunchly…Shed give you an opposing opinion, even if she knew nothing about the issue, and carried herself like she actually does.
She’s a slut cause everyone knows she’s slept her way up the network, still sleeps her way to stay on board, and does not talk about the things that the powers that be want kept under the carpet.

Nobody says that she’s a slut, nobody says the truth, cause then they’d be enemies to success, cause shes a real success story, neither would I actually, Im not an enemy to success, nor do I plan to be one,

Seed being one of the greatest speakers I have met, conducted himself superbly, practiced self restraint when provoked, and spoke very objectively, used the right terms at the right times, like he’s done it a hundred times before. He’d actually convince you that he is right, and all you stood to believe in was downright silly of you. But then…

The Slut opened her mouth…
Seeing only his age to be his possible shortcoming..she played on it, like a finely tuned piano..

King, who was watching at home, actually threw a shoe at the TV, Al Zaidi Style…

“ You know seed, the problem is baby, we cannot talk to them, let me tell you something that happened before you were born, I lived it and I would know..you just cannot talk to these people, and if you do and you say they are nice..that is part of their plan to fool you…don’t let them fool you, one day you will grow up and learn..”

Now, really…who is the real enemy of success?

Seed’s girlfriend was behind the camera, waiting to congratulate him on a job well done, despite hating the outcome, its still cause to celebrate…he made her and everyone who knew him proud…
As for the slut, well lets wait and see..she messed with a made man…and justice is blind, and not a lesbo…you gotta be a Man to know how to sleep with Justice.

So You Wannabe A Rockstar! ( Instrumental Version)

Think an Arabic ambient remix….

It was quite an alluring place, dim and large, however all the tables were set in an intertwined manner creating a false but convincing feeling of privacy on each table. The lighting did wonders to the place, subtle yellow spotlights very generously placed all over the place, some of them dangling on threads like the thread you would find on a Christmas tree. All yellow, all same color, boring, but the repetition was what made it beautiful.

The entire place was smoky, a good mix of tobacco, shisha and fake Cuban ( probably Honduran Cigars). You can hear the general chitchat of people having fun. The mood was like a 100- meter sprinter taking his mark. Its laid back, but you know it is only a matter of time before things really go wild. The mood was in the hands of a well dressed Disc Jokey sitting somewhere you cant see. But you can tell he has his eye on every table in the place, for his choice of music was very reactive to the mood the people were in.

To anyone walking in, it would look like you went into the only place in town that would cater to the bigwigs of the underworld, A few Commissiongeyya here and there, your local drug dealers, pimp ring leaders and dirty cops, maybe even a couple of public officials and a Governor’s chief of staff.
All the cities vices, it’s corrupt power out for a night, all in one place…

That’s what it would seem, but as we all love our imaginations to get the best of us, here was his take on the crowd:

Your crowd was a regular combination of fat suits surrounded by cheap beauty, a couple of young execs planning on having mad fun in a place away from their regular choice of venues, a couple of other guys feeling this is the beginning of a great social life to come when they managed to enter a place like that, and some unfortunate babes looking for a false sense of freedom, a freedom they yearn for and wrongly believe its been taken away from them, they’d stop at nothing to exercise it and prove to themselves that they are free…at any expense.

He was sitting with someone his age, probably a technical school dropout who started early in life as to make it big, making a career outta quick fixes and on the side opportunities, He thinks of himself as on the way of being a businessman…something like the ones depicted in movies, you know those big Beks either portrayed by an old middle aged man who looks good in a suit or by Hassan Hosni. The ones who have business conglomerates equally investing in manufacturing, construction, tourism and advertising all in the same time, and as if all that wasn’t enough for you, still has the time and punch to take on either drug dealing or antique smuggling.
Then a little lucky fella (probably a technical school dropout) with a heart of gold and nerves of steel would be courageous enough to bring such a superhumanly capable man down…and take his place..

That was Zika’s plan…and his ambition.
He just looked at Zika in pity…but didn’t show it, cause he wanted something from him.
No it wasn’t the three girls Zika bought in to impress, not the alcohol Zika planned on getting tonight, and not the piece of Hash in Zika’s pocket.

He wanted Muscle…not Zika of course, Zika was a get it all. You know theres always one in each town, a man who serves everyone, helps everyone go places, we howwa ma7alak serr…he thinks he is moving up in life by doing that…
Problem is, to everyone he’s just Zika..

“ So ya Bob… you only need two men” Zika asked
El Bob answered back in the affirmative, saying he likes doing things quietly. Apparently El Bob likes doing things subtly. He learnt that off his Boss…Damien King.

El Bob was supposed to rustle up a guy, who thinks he’s all that.. A nobody from the corporate world who thinks he’s going to be a CEO of a Fortune 500 by the time he’s 35, all because he’s now on a supervisory sub managerial level in the business development department of a company that sells insurance schemes to other fellow multinational company goaled execs. Of course this Wannabe CEO has a lot to brag about, with only 1 year in the company, and fresh outta sales, he just jumps into business development, daddy is an accomplished super-manager in a petroleum company, sadly enough although the company is well known, daddy really isn’t. why? the answer always said is because Daddy has a lot of unseen enemies who just for the heck of it hate good people. Most importantly, Wannabe CEO went to AUC. The only hotbed for the best education in Egypt.

El Bob doesn’t know why Damien King would be interested in rustling up the wannabe CEO, but he just follows orders, its not his job to ask questions, his job is to solve them. Of course that doesn’t deny that there always are rumors, which say it’s for an old friend dear to his heart…

*koff koff* Damien King has no heart.

People like King tend to do that, appear cold and ruthless, but then have these truly genuine acts of kindness to old friends, where pen and paper do not govern his dealings with them. They are below the bottom line, it doesn’t apply to them.
El Bob, never gets it, his only analysis would be these people remind him of a good age long gone, when things were simple, and pleasant…
He’d probably do anything to get them back, and this is his chance to re-live them.

El Bob leaves the unnamed ambiently lighted club full of plastic pleasure, and heads out to do the job. Wannabe CEO lives in a suburban compound outside of town. Has a shiny expensive hatchback not yet parked in the driveway, right in-front of Daddy’s Japanese Saloon.

“He still hasn’t arrived ya Basha” says one of the goons to El- Bob…
El Bob lights another cigarette, while the shaabi music plays in the car. As the goons revel on the artistic beauty the late el berens 2000 has to offer, He tires to daydream about where he’s been and where he’s going…but an sms cuts his mental journey before it even begins..

“I miss you” says an SMS…
He wants to meet her today, probably everyday if he can…why endure the bitter when you can constantly enjoy the sweet…he hopes he can be done early to go see her..

A couple of repeats of “7anan el 2om” on the busted cassette player and 6 cigarettes later, wannabe CEO appears on the horizon in his hatchback..

“ Amrekani ya Basha?” the goon asks?
El Bob nods…

Both Goons, both with lengthy criminal records and fewer arrests stand in the driveway with a two very thick and quite long nababeet, they smile sheepishly until the headlights land on their faces only to reveal an identical menacing expression on either goon’s face.

“ Mat Wasa3 ya Roo7 Omak, dah garage!” yells the CEO wannabe..
No response…
He meets it with two honks..
Nothing, they don’t even budge.
He dismounts from his vehicle, and walks slowly to them in a commandeering way,
“3amel 3abeet inta we howwa wala eh? Yalla ma3 el salama men hena”
Nothing…
The guy walks back to his car, puts it into gear with his leg still on the clutch, he gives it a couple of loud revs, and then lets the clutch go…
The Car pounces to where the couple are standing, they both veer out of the way very gracefully for their size, one of them manages to land his naboot on the left tail light, smashing it to bits…
Wannabe CEO leaves the car infuriated and lunges to one of them, declaring beat to a pulp first, ask questions later. His plans were foiled when the other Naboot landed fiercely on the center of his back right between the shoulder blades…
He collapsed to the floor in pain, and rolled over with his back to the asphalt, the other naboot landed on his left knee.
“aadi el debreyaj ya ibn el weskha… wadi el banzeen ya kos omaha”, then on the other knee..

The problem with broken knees is that there is never blood, but it renders your leg useless for a good nine months, with both broken, that’s a good nine months in a wheelchair.
The Goons then took turns on anything breakable on the hatchbacks exterior…headlights, tail lights, mirrors, windshield, and the hood.

“ Mobaylek feen ya 7elwa?”
The cripple on the floor complied instantly indicating it was in his left breast pocket, they kept beating him on the pocket until they heard it smash…of course every time they did, he would wail in pain..

“ HOSH!! Balash dawsha ya Marra, inti eeh? Betewledi?”
CRACK CRACK
“We 3amelli feeha Dakar?”
CRACK
The Cripple now close to passing out was dragged to rest his back on the left front tire of his car, this is where El Bob stepped in.

He first slapped him on the face, telling him this is for the attitude he gave them. He then proceeded to warn him not to come close to the woman again..
When he asked which woman exactly, he was freshened up again to recall.
He was then given a nice, simple but effective monologue that if his parents and the government both failed to raise him properly, they will gladly do the job in their free time. They hope this reminds him how vulnerable he could be, and hope he has been humbled by the experience.

A few weeks later, Zika was picked up by an unnamed police officer in plainclothes and bought in for questioning. He claimed he was solicited to commit aggravated assault by a man simply known as El Bob.. his description was not so tall, not so short, jet black wavy hair, with small eyes, and a good athletic build, fair complexion for your average Egyptian skin tones, didn’t say much, he actually looked like Tommy Vercetti from GTA vice city.., always in dirty jeans, a leather sweater and navy blue sneakers with white soles. He walked as if he were dancing to a tune in his head and rarely smiled..
That night, Zika didn’t show up at home, his cohorts thought the authorities never released him, so didn’t bother to report him as missing.
A few days later an unidentified male fitting Zika’s description was found in a ditch by the Cairo Alex Desert highway, ba3d el Karta be meteen metr..
After examination at the coroners office, exact cause of death was attributed to blunt force trauma to the cranium causing internal hemorrhage caused by a blunt instrument. Other injuries include a ruptured anal sphincter a broken left forefinger and index finger. Sand was also found in his lungs and larynx which indicated attempted suffocation.

Case Closed, Two Wannabe Rockstars outta the game, one dead, one incapacitated from the knees downwards.
And the lesson learned?
If you are opening act at a concert, make sure that the audience gets the impression you are just opening act, Your main event will come…only not in this gig…

Keep Rockin….like a boat
Keep Rollin…with the punches..
Your time will come…

Take Me There..

"He exists in a world beyond your world.."
"What you would only fantasize about, he does..."

"Feared by many, truly known by few, this man is as legendary as they come. He's cheated death, congregated with the most noble of people, and the most ruthless...he can be vile, he can be aristorcaratic. He enjoys traveling in the subway or in a Bentley both equally. Money is of no importance to Him, merely a means...And guess what, you are about to work for him..."

Sonja shifted her weight from one perfectly formed buttcheek to the other in her seat. she tried as much as she can to conceal the exitement and how impressed she was with her poker face. It was quite hard.

This guy is something close to a truly life inspiration of Keyser Soze... an underwolrd kingpin, who not so many people can boast. She never thought she would end up in this kind of life. She graduated from Secretarial College with aspirations to work at a bank, or maybe a multinational. serve important people.

Her definition of importance was about to be amended.



She kissed her husband goodbye, and went down to the unmarked black peugeot parked downstairs. Shes going to Prague, finally a big city for the first time in her life. Okay, not the first time, she recalls once how her uncle Olaf ( he wasnt really her uncle, hes Polish, but he was like a brother to her father) took her to Bratislava to see the Castle, the old town there, Back before the Velvet Revolution when they were one country.
It was a short drive to the closest town with an airport. She remembered how she was chosen.
She recalled how not so long ago she was looking for a job desperately in any place she can get, she submitted online, she did door to door, they all shunned her until in the end she worked as a receptionist at the only hotel in town. It was funny how her job description as receptionist included collecting laundry, and sometimes cooking to the one or two guests who actually occupied the rooms.

She was a Magyar, of Hungarian origin in a country which was enforced on its people, one day they just woke up and found some Cigar puffing politicians with too much fat at their bellies thought it would be a great idea for them to co exist with their not so homogenic neighbours under one flag.

Dont you just love politicians?


She remembered her husband, remembered how he would dream of changing the world, Changing the status quo, ridding them of the injustice of ethinc rifts, and that they would have a country of their own...

Transylvania...
He did nothing, Czechkoslovakia fell...and he had nothing to do with it, he just worked at the factory, didnt even celebrate that day to work the night shift when everyone was saying good riddance to the Slovaks, he just said its a celbration not of our own people, we still have a challenge...
Thats what men do, talk talk talk, when it comes to action, they always claim they have tomorrow.

The man who she was going to meet on the other hand, was unlike most men.
She was driven directly to a Villa outside of Prague. All across the way she was looking at different places, with different people. Different faces, and a story behind each one she thought. She thought of their dreams...their dissapointments and wondered how more dissapointments she will recieve in her meagre and unaffective life.

She'd constantly remind herself throughout the trip where she is going, what change she could be capable of. The untold riches of working with this man, the endless possibilities. She thought about leaving her husband, for she knows he would not accept her being the bigger breadwinner. With him being blinded by pride, allowing her to go try her luck is something, and living with the fact that she is the better and most successful of the both of them is something else. She'd wish the extra copious amounts of money would silence his pride, but he knows he is too much of a man to do that.
She wont leave him though, she will just wait until it gets too unbearable for him, and he will most certainly not let it pass.
Her thoughts of the severe change she was about to undergo should this trip be actually successful were interrupted by a jovially smiling middle aged man in burgundy uniform, opening her car door for her,
"Dobrý den, madam"
"Dobrý den..." She responded, with a corteous smile...
She walked into what seemed to be centuries of grandoise, only refurbished...probably in the late 90's or so. She was prompted very formally into a large reception/ tea room. with large and high white wooden double doors, the ceiling, in addition to being quite high for normal housing standards was fresoced with a biblical image. to the left, huge mahogany bookcases, with your impressive variation of Navy Blue, Black, Dark Green and Burgundy Red binding of probably classical books. The right side of the room was basically a set of ceiling to floor cross windows, that let in a gush of light accopmanying the subtly and dimly lit room which had lighting fixtures all over the place ranging from spots imbedded in the bookcase, to antique lamps on various tall rounded small tables sprawled delicately between the couches and armchairs. A Black Grand Piano shone in the far corner on the left, it was a Steinway and Sons. It ruled out the entire image of sophistication, attributing the essence to a pseudo-cultured American decorator.

She sat at the edge of a Dark red couch, and placed her handbag on the wall to wall carpeted beige floors. she realized her dirty shoes messed up the carpets and cursed at how bad and permanent an impression she is already leaving.

"Kurva!" she muttered...
At that point He walked in wearing a Grey Pinstriped suit and a black tie, She collected herself and in the best unbroken english she could come up with said Good afternoon Mister King...

"Good Afternoon, I take it you had a good drive up here?"
"yes.."
" I see you already have left an impression?"
"What?"
"an impression, your shoes...the carpet" he said smiling..." dont worry, im selling it anyways... I dont like Prague, only here because business takes me here..ill just stick to staying at the Four Seasons...you ever been there? its a lovely place really, spectacular view of the Vltava..
I know you have never been there...you must think you have come a long way in life, allow me to just assure you that you still havent seen life...nothing of it. You will see alot, Im bracing you...consider today your birthday..."

She hated the condescending manner the rich and the powerful communicated to her in almost every dealing, emphasizing the difference, the barrier, the invisible one everyone claims it doesnt exist but everyone still knows it does. Rubbing salt into the wound doesnt really help on forging a relationship built on trust she thought.
She asked herself why is she further subjecting herself to more pain, but just dropped the thought and let him proceed...

" What I am asking of you is quite simple, and easy...theres a room booked for you in the Four Seasons i just metioned...be ready at 8 o clock to receive further instructions."

That night, exactly at 8 O clock, the room phone rang, reception was informing her of a man simply referred to as "špína" was waiting for her in the lobby.

She descended to the lobby, and met the man referred to as "dirt".

It surprised her how in your face these people operated. Nobody is called Dirt, and they really are far smarter than to let such a thing pass them, yet they still do it, once again they rub salt into peoples wounds.
She followed špína into an Audi S6, that took them to the airport. the gates to the tarmac clearly opened upon sight of the vehicle, and they drove onto the tarmac up until they reached a non descript Gulfstream Learjet, being fueled and prepared for take-off.

" jsme létání?" she asked..she didnt expect travel this soon
"ano" he replied back in the affirmative.
"Nemám passport"
He just looked at her with frustration and pulled out a Red British Passport with Her Majesty's Seal on it, God Bless Her. He handed her the passport and told her to have a look..

"She does now"

Sonja's picture was inside, and apparently her new name is Sonja Tepes.
She found it sick of whomever picked out her name, since the most famous Magyar in History was Vlad Tepes, mostly known as Vlad the Impaler aka Count Dracula.

Seven Years Later:

She was waiting in the line for passport control at Almaty International Airport, Dressed in a Gucci Business Suit, Fleuvog Heels and a Prada Coat, donning her Blackberry and flipping through work emails as the line moved forward with one hand, and resting the other on her Loius Vitton Carry on luggage that matched her suitcase supposedly waiting for her already on the First Class flyers conveyor belt. She was sickened at the incompetence of local resources they had to utilize for services they were trying to procure with a shipping company, she hated how the forgers they were using to fabricate bills of lading refused to deal directly with legitimate shippers to not expose themselves. She hated how they didnt see the big picture, that they were supplying arms for separatist groups in Georgia and this small impedement required her attention that should be adequately allocated to the bigger scheme of things...

Shes an important person now, probably affecting the daily lives of millions, and is still treated regularly, still had to deal with inconveniences such as acting as a go between two entites that are not supposedly acknowledging one another's existence let alone actually doing Business. Such entites utilized people like her Boss, Damien King, and now hes utilizing her...She wondered that would be different after seven years of loyalty, in a Trade where you have a shelf life for merely one operation, one job thats it, and then you go home and feel great as to how you have become an arms dealer and actually was engaged in world politics...the secret jubilation of the thought would blind you from the Hatchet Man probably employed by your own employer who is coming at you with a .22 caliber to get rid of you quietly, or even worse, blind you that you will live through it, and only 30 years later the realization of such a heinous thing you have done will motivate you to take your own life . She stopped the string of thoughts about self loathing and self pity when realized she was holding the line back when the passport control officer was gesturing for her to come.
"you English?"
"yes.."
" Welcome to Kazakhstan miss..Tipps"
"It's Tepes.."

" Welcome to the Jungle then.." he said jokingly... She couldnt resist the comeback" You dont welcome Royalty to their own dominion do you..."

Calling Dr. Jones

" Excuse me, I don't recall seeing your name on the invited list..."

"That's because my name is not on the list... I'm Dr. Diana Jones..."

"Would you be related to The Dr. Jones?"

"No, none relation whatsoever, and believe me...if someone in our family went around in a Hat and Whip, they'd be disavowed instantly..even if they did find the Lost Ark..."

That's the attitude you get when you mess with Dr. Diana Jones. She's not a Doctor yet, but with her experience she can out-doctor any PhD holder you know. Her feisty attitude is quite apparent. One would imagine with her size, she'd be a little more reserved, but she can take on any beast, at any time.

The French cultural attache, being the pompous person she is, even for a french, just decided to ignore the intruder and let her go about her day. She was embarrassed by a renowned group of Archaeologists who told her, any archaeological social function would not be complete without Dr. Jones being on the list.

Shes been on a lot of excavations for someone her age, and did work on quite interesting digs too. But if you want her resume you can ask her for it.

Diana is someone I have known for quite a while now. Despite both our busy schedules, we fall in and out of touch, but always pick up where we left off. Its always either discussing the Stargate conspiracy, something she thinks is out of a movie, but i always come up with considerable evidence that it just might be a little more than something out of a movie. Sometimes we just discuss issues she has in her profession, problems with pompous peers..She gives me the impression that everyone in the profession is pompous, from the French Cultural Attache (who isn't exactly a member of the profession) to a fellow graduate in her class who always ends up working on the same work she does work on.

She has a banged up 4x4 (would have said SUV to be trendy, but it doesn't have any utilities in it) that's constantly parked. As long as I have known her, I've been promised a ride..that ride is yet to happen.

Diana's appeal lies in her true understanding of what a friend is and should be. She never ceases to surprise me in how good a friend she can be. Shes also quite engaging in conversation, which is both pleasant and enlightening. She has a knack for comebacks too, for every time we meet, I end up quoting her on a statement she said, and with her consent I post it on my facebook profile, yes that's how good they are.

She's out in the middle of the desert now as we speak, no music, no TV , no Internet...just a tent and sticky desert flies like she once told me...I don't know when is she going to read this...but I'll just sing along with Bubblegum Pop band "Aqua" and say

Dr. Jones,

Jones...

Calling Dr. Jones,

Dr. Jones,

Dr. Jones ,

Wake up now!

Sophie's Choice

Tuesday 1pm :

A Group of young business professionals were seated in an upscale coffee shop where business execs working in the tower would normally spend their coffee break.

"Dude, you shoulda been there last night, Tanya was all over the place, It seems like you really turned her into a dating beast...."

"Man, Dont forget you really fucked her up in the head..."

The Culprit, seated with them just gleamed, enjoying his seconds of infamy....and all he did was act modestly. Between the four of them, all dressed in their sharp suits with not so sharp minds to match, they pursued and were reciprocally pursued by the hottest and most eligible girls, the town had to offer.

Then she walked in...their eyes all turned.

*enter the chorus of "there she goes" by The La*

Dressed in black pants pinstriped with a subtle yet effective charcoal grey, a White silk shirt and nice little black ballet shoes she turned eyes and heads. She had a black leather laptop bag and was entrenched in concentration in her BlackBerry which she was nestling with both hands at the center of her chest.

Whats funny is, she cant even tell she was turning heads.

Some women act like they can't tell. She actually can't.

She crosses the cafe and sits at the farthermost table. A small table in the far corner where she'd always sit.

A creature of routine.

Routine is good,

Routine is safe.

Okay maybe routine is not so good. She yearns to break it, it provides no excitment, and like all of us we need to be stimulated, reminded that we are still alive, that there is still more to us and more to our world than Manolo Blahniks, Black Berry Bold, Dolce & Gabbana and Christian Lacroix.

She sits and makes her usual order, and opens up a book she is currently reading,

Israeli contemporary literature,

At this point the Boys are all eyeing her, wondering how this one managed to slip away from them.

"What's her name man...we need her name"

"Dude, I know her..she was with me in University, she actually was good friends with that babe...Lara"

"No Shit?"

"Yeah...her name's Sophie...Sophie Monet"

Her Phone rings, Sophie answers in German. A few minutes later, it rings again...the call is in French

"Where does she work...?"

"She Works in that big telecom company.. Oxycom"

Tuesday 4pm:

She sits at her cubicle, writing up one of the many reports for the day. Her supervisor leans over and says:

"Sophie, Norfolk wants you in his office..."

normally, anyone would quiver and go wobbly at the knees at such a statement, Norfolk's time is very expensive, even if its a mere few minutes, so if Norfolk wants to invest his time with someone, guess it is quite important.

Norfolk: Sophie, I liked your last report, Good job...I want you to do the same on Algeria and Nigeria...

Sophie: Thank You.... will do it right away,

Norfolk: No,

Thank you!...and if you need anything, please let me know.

Tuesday 7pm :

Quiksilver Gym is quite spectacular, its more of a social club than it is a gym. An anomaly made at the expense and for the utility of Cairo's Seen and be Seen crowd, although everyone acts like they are merely there to stay fit or work out, theyre really there for matters on their social agendas before anything else. On her way in she bumps into one of the trainers :

Carmella Blackman: Sophieyyyy!!!

Sophie: Carmella, How are you? its been a while,

Carmella Blackman: yeah, since what? when we met up with King...

Sophie: yeah, I havent seen him in a while too...

Carmella Blackman: I didnt know you train here...be sure to try out my spinning class..its a blast!

Sophie: well yes i train here everyday, normally I'm here before work, to avoid the crowd, you know...but sure Ill be sure to pass by...I have to see you guys...lets meet up...yalla take care, Ciao

Up on a treadmill, next to two dolled up girls trying to set up the speed on an Elipse Runner, she puts her iPod on full blast, as if shes the only person in the room, and just finds herself....

Running...

care free...

leaving it all behind...

The girls look at her oddly, as if shes not doing the normal thing people should do at a gym. They exchange whispers on who she is, where have they seen her before, if theres any gossip to be exchanged about her.

What they don't really get, is that in reality they admire her...for they cant pull off what to her is nature, even if their life depended on it.

Tuesday 9:30pm :

She drives her inconspiciously colored Japanese car, listening to Omar Khayrat heading home, enjoying the view of the Nile, and being thankful that she is Egyptian. Despite her multi cutural background from School, Uni, and her affinity for Europe, It's her Egyptianhood that she relates to the most.

She looks at her BlackBerry, recalls the many social invitations she has turned down today and smiles. She just turns it off and drives faster, activating her voicemail which is already full of unanswered messages.

In a Honky Tonk, Down in Mexico

Dedicated To Colin;

"Mexico Boss? That's quite a long way from the courthouse isn't it?" Sid inquired...
" You bet your Dumb Ass it is Sid....now get your shit sorted out, I'm having you on a Bus tonight..."
To Sid, who's realm of both existence and awareness ended at the Courthouse at the edge of town, you could see the excitement oozing out of his pores.

A few hours later, Sid was at the Bus Station with a black gym bag that said "Rhee Bok" on both its sides in Blue. In the bag were wads of fresh 100 Dollar Bills....

A sudden shiver ran down his spine, when he remembered his Boss's instructions..
" You go find the lady, and you give her the money in the bag, all 1 Million Dollars of it , Its simple, now don't fuck it up..."
Sid's Boss was a barrel of a man. he was round, truly round, irrespective of whichever angle you are looking at him from. He'd Wheeze with the slightest of movement, yet was always impeccably dressed, with an eccentric sense of style that would dub him overdressed or flashy for nearly every occasion. He was a good man at heart, just hid behind a rude and ruthless behavior.. he was a lowlife attorney spending his career on small odd jobs awaiting his big break. Barely worth mentioning on the Industry's level, one of those lawyers who start off as nobody's and retire as nobody's save their directly surrounding environment, who'd semi deify him, put him on a pedestal and liken him to legend.
He always cursed in every sentence, it was part of the external demeanor, he tried acting tough, but he had a big heart. Take Sid for example, he is quite incompetent, however The Boss, being the bottom line whats in it for me type, could never find it in him to fire the simpleton. As incompetent as Sid was, The Boss knew he's stupid enough to do something foolish... Simpeltons are loyal, merely because they are too stupid to be ambitious, That's why out of all the grunts The Boss had, Sid was his first and only choice.

As the Bus cruised the road close to El Paso...Sid was sitting on chair 32 B, nestling the Rhee Bok gym bag on his lap, with his eyes, along with the drivers, the only eyes wide awake. You can tell he was excited, he actually for the first time in a while, felt like he was doing something useful for a change. He was humming Paul Anka's cover of Smells like teen spirit,
He felt good
He felt useful...
Tonight he would sleep a satisfied man, not in his bed, but in chair 32 B on the 7682 Bus.
I've never slept on the 7682 Bus before, so i wouldnt know how comfortable it is to sleep on, but you can tell from Sid's groggy face the following morning that the fantastic dreams of grandeur he had on the trip wouldnt make the sleep any more pleasurable.
The man genuinely seemed to be in pain. Mostly at the neck cause he rubbed it whenever he remembered.
After a few hundred meters on foot away from the station his black Hush Puppies were already a light beige from the clay like dust on the ground streched for as far as the eye could see. As he walked further and further up the road, he noticed the surroundings are becoming more and more desolate. He wondered why would someone 1 Million dollars rich would live in such a place, The woman can definetly afford to live somewhere more accessible.
His mind started asking many questions. What is this money? did a rich relative of her die and this is her inheritence? did she invest in a rewarding scheme? if so, he wouldn't mind a million dollars for himself as well.
"What would I do with a million dollars?" he thought.
Then, out of nowhere, popped the most wicked thought Sid's mind ever concieved, accompanied with the most hideous grin his mouth could conjure.
" Why dont I skip with the money?"
The excitement following that thought overwhelmed him. He was almost going to explode in joy, not from the result of the thought more than the fact that his simple mind can come up with such an ingenius idea.
The shortly created thought would have to go dormant now, for his simple surroundings of dust, sun and dry weather were intruded by a Golaith of a Black 18-wheeler. He finally could embody salvation.
He waved frantically at the truck, hoping for it to stop.
It did...
creaked violently to a halt, as if its momentum awakened abruptly and in protest, from a comfortable slumber.
The Passenger door opened, revealing a tall and built man, with black wavy hair in the drivers seat.
It was quite odd for a truck driver to be dressed in a black suit and tie, and wearing black Ray Ban Wayfarers, he looked like one of the Blues Brothers but without the hat, and he had blood stains on his right cuff and spatter of it on his collar.
"It's not mine" he said, "get in"
after he got in, he thought it would be nice to engage in small talk, to break the ice.
" when you said its not mine sir...were you referring to the truck or the blood...?" " Oh...Both actually.." he said in a friendly yet very raspy drawly voice. "But dont worry, neither owner are gonna be looking for us...the name's Bud..." pleased to meet you sir..I'm Sid..."
"Kid, I got a name, i just told you what it is, dont call me Sir..."
"Okay Sir...sorry I meant Bud..."
Bud smiled..quite an attractive smile for someone with his demeanor.. " so kid, where you headed with that Rhee Bok bag?"

A couple of towns down, with sunset just a couple of hours away, Bud realized they could both use a drink. They parked in a makeshift parking lot on the side which had a roadhouse overlooking it.. an old banged up pickup and a dusty American muscle car were parked outside. With an abundance of space, Bud just parked right in the middle, and they both went in to the Mexican watering hole.
To Sid's surprise, the place inside reminded him of home, only dirtier and with more eccentric people. The juke box in the corner was playing "Stuck in the Middle with You" by Steelers Wheel and Bud did the impromptu dance Mr. Blonde did when it was playing in Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs..it was only then that Sid realized that Bud really resembled Michael Madsen in that movie...heck Bud is probably Michael Madsen's twin brother.

They both approached the Bar, Bud motioned to the bar tender for a drink. Sid, then innocently said I'll have a beer...
The bartender chuckled, so did Bud...turns out they only serve Tequila in this place, and all other places like it. Tequila straight outta a dirty unlabelled bottle. only God and the maker of the bottle would know whats in it.
After downing a straight up shot, Sid felt wobbly at the toes and ears. Bud, went for another, and did another Mr. Blonde Swirl...
As Steelers Wheel gave the microphone to James Brown for the Payback, all three mens' attention was diverted to the pool table across the room when a woman giggling could be heard. Oh and what a sight.

Two Women, both tall, one Blonde, one Brunette..both identically dressed in tight black pants, black heels and black tops with sleeves. The Brunette was the one laughing..she sounded alot nicer than she looked. As for the Blonde, well that was compeletly another story.

She was a tall fair skinned woman with dirty blonde hair , and a green left eye with a subtle yet effective beauty spot a few decimeters below. The right one was covered in a black velvet eye patch, with clear white stiches at the seams, probably a designer thing. She had nothing else that was familiar about her face to be described, other than probably she'd remind you of Yasmine Bleeth. She held two black eightballs in her right hand..her left hand cupped her mouth and she called:

"Hey Joe..Can i take these two balls and hang them from my windshield mirror?"
Joe, who was wearing a Red Bandana replied after brief thought saying..." Chica, anything in this place is for you... but you know the gringos might wanna play pool.."
She then, quite innocently turned her face to the man in the suit and the emo looking simpleton by his side.
"would you guys mind?"

Bud approached her, paused, and between the intervals of the beats in the background song...and right before the Godfather of Soul unleashed one of his Historical wails, he said...
"Matter of fact...i would... So what's your name Hot Stuff...and what happened to your eye?"

The Girl was infuriated, She knows its quite a curiousity to everyone who sees it, but at least they are decent enough to act like it's not there...sometimes, she gets confused whether they are staring at the eyepatch and imagining what ugly sight could possibly lie beneath it, or are they merely staring at her drop dead gorgeous features and figure.

" None, of your Goddamn Business Asshole..."
" yeah, but at least this asshole still has both eyes..."
in less than an instant, her knee was heading for his groin, afterwhich she intended to crash her heel into the top of his foot...
She missed, as he dodged backwards butt first..his right hand grabbing her left arm, and in less than an instant, twisting her arm to reel her into his torso...
He held her close to his chest, whispered into her ear..."You gonna bark all day lil doggie...or you gonna bite?"

He didnt have enough time to gleam in victory, to celebrate this very cinematic moment of his life, for in less than a minute, a tall dark man in black with a guitar case walked in, followed by a short saucy young latina woman with a face that meant business which was contrasted with her black polka dotted white dress..she was a few steps behind the man with the guitar case...he inevitably stopped before she did, the moment she did...she asked the man in the guitar case whats wrong..
he said..."everything..."
With that uttered, they hailed the entire place with gunfire...
Sid hid for a corner and left the bag by the bar...
Joe the bartender ducked behind the counter and came out with a shotgun in his hand..started firing at the Mariachi and his Bella Donna, the ugly brunette in black somersaulted on the ground towards the pool table for cover, firing from two silver pistols that popped outta nowhere...
The only thought running in poor Sids head was why was everyone carrying guns...is this common here in Mexico? if so, then why didnt his boss tell him?
He suddenly remembered a parody movie he used to watch as a child, it was called Viva Zalata, where Fouad el Mohandes played an outlaw cowboy in Texico called Zalata...
Wahiba dih...Teb2a your mother!
nope, that was from another Fouad el Mohandes movie...Akhtar Ragol fel 3alam...
At that moment, he really did wish he was...
Actually last man or woman standing in this Gunfight, would respectably earn the title.
When the Gunshots and Cordite settled, Sid came out of his hiding place to review the casualties, both to property and human life..
The Ugly Brunette was slumped on the pool table...lifeless..riddled with bullets from an automatic rifle.
Joe now his bald patch naked after his red bandana fell off , was bleeding profusely at the shoulder, and gasping for Cordite free air...and in the middle of gasps he was cursing in the local dialect, something that involved alot of hookers and mothers..
Bud was donning his friendly smile, playing it cool..pulled his Wayfarers from his breast pocket and slid them on his nose. The one eyed blonde, lets simply call her Elle, was running for the door to take a look at the bandits who offed her pool playing fashion twin.
" hey Blues Brother, they took your friend's Rhee Bok Bag"
Sid upon hearing that just cried like a baby...

They sat down, and talked, each had his own explaining to do

Bud

Bud: the guy is a legend, they call him El Mariachi..sometimes they merely refer to him as El...he takes hits off any Cartel, I made a coupla Medellins ( members of the Medellin Cartel) unhappy by offing one of their rookies...guess this hit was in retribution..That Truck out there is his..
Elle: why'd you off em
Bud: nobody disses the King...
Elle: your boss?
Bud: ELVIS...

Elle

Elle: we were here doing work...we were doing a first time job for a big client, Damien King, we are supposed to track down a woman hiding from the FBI, since they don't have jurisdiction over here and they dont want to involve the Mexican Federales the FBI asks people like King to bring these fugitives back across the border...
Bud: Damien King is an Asshole...
Elle: Hey, i thought you said nobody disses the King.

Sid

Sid: I work for a guy, who works for a guy who works for Rankin Fitch, was supposed to deliver that bag to a woman, codenamed Dirty Diana...
Elle: Shit, thats who i was supposed to bring in?
Sid: why? what did she do?
Elle: from what it looks like she is one dangerous woman...She used to be an analyst at the Department of Defense, some techie that spent most of her day looking at screens, screens that displayed very sensitive infromation. She got greedy, guess it had something to do with an abusive husband, so she decided to sell the secrets..
Sid: to the Russians?
Elle: you really are pathetic Sid, The Russians are our friends now...she's selling it to the Arabs..
Bud: But i thought the Arabs were our friends...those Jews are doing a good job with the governments in the area,
Elle: not government, Hizbollah...
Sid: I need to get that bag back, can you guys help me?
Bud: I gotta plan that would make everyone happy... how do we split 1 Mil three ways..?
Elle: heck i want no money...i just wanna get the woman back...
Bud: don't worry, we'll get your woman...
Joe: AHEM! out of all you Gringos, who the Puta! you think needs the money most?

Joe (now donning a purple Sash, and a Black Mustache)

Joe: Why do you Gringos gotta come do your dirty business south of the border? why cant you go mess up a roadhouse in texas, I mean up there you still can shoot your pistoleros..2nd ammendment Merda...we dont have no Second Ammendment here, you know what, you are all pathetic...you all work for someone, whos doing something for someone, you are all a bunch of fuckin assholes, you dont got the guts to be what you wanna be...ME? This is my Cantina...My Rules, nobody tells me what to do, I work for myself, Im the most honorable out of all of you, i sit down on my pianoh stool, play the blues pianoh, this is the closest to Americana i wanna get... get out of here... all of you...take that dead chiquita off my pool table too get out...
he reaches for his shotgun, and cocks a cartridge into the barrel, the sound of which turns the mood from somewhat comedic, to serious...funnily enough, they've all just been out of a gunfight..but his anger wasn't a matter to take lightly...If i learnt anything during my time in mexico, is never mess with an angry Mexican.
get out...
(BANG!)
GET OUT!
(bang!)
I dont want your beezness here... It has no place... yalla...yalla...barra barra....ya Kelab!!!

They walked out gracefully, and headed to Elle's Muscle car...
"okay, Im curious Elle, how would a pretty thing like you get a nasty scar like that.."
"Abusive boyfriend with an Ego problem.."
"Is he still breathing?"
"well, not for long.."
"how you surviving?"
"I drink..."

The Windsor Hotel & Number 3 Happiness High Lane

They were staking him out,

The Hotel said the guy fitting the description rented out the room four days ago under the name of "Feldman"

It could be him.

They always had good conversation on stakeouts...dont ask why, cause for in other situations, these two couldnt keep a convo flowing between them with guns to their heads.

"Hows the wife?"

"she nags.."

"Kids?"

"expensive.."

"Dog?"

"hes getting old, we are going to have to put him to sleep soon..."

"would ask about job, but i can already see.."

"funny you should ask.."

"You know what you need...you need a blowjob"

"not from you i presume..."

"yeah yeah...you should try your mother...she was great last weekend.."

She was fidgeting with her keys in the car door...turns out Germaine was parked right next to her...

"Kelly...!~!"

"Jem...how are you?"

"I'm fine, we havent seen you at the club for a while, I hope everything is okay?"

"Oh well, you know the ups and downs..."

"Why whats wrong..is it Sid?"

"hes just going through a rough time, i guess its work..."

"Is he back to gambling?"

"yes...he even maxed out half of our savings..., he even cant get the car he promised Jack for his 16th birthday, and hes avoiding it ..I tried confronting him and i even offered to give him some of my own savings for a downpayment, and he just snapped at me, I know its out of pride...and i tell him there shouldnt be any between us. He just left the house and came back when i was asleep."

" he might just be going through a rough time at work, being a police detective can be very stressful, even for someone at his rank".

" Well i hope it might just be the job, but i feel he is falling apart, Hooch..his bloodhound is sick too..i think its taking a toll on him..."

"The poor thing!..., Oh well if you need anything Kelly..I am here for you..."

Just another one of them Dark, Sketchy Meetings

Meeting One: Sammy & The Unseen Man

He walked through the main revolving door at the entrance just like he was told.He crossed the marble floored hallway, just like he was told.Walked to the reception, at the sign that read "Concierge" just like he was told.

A small tingle shivered down his spine as he placed his palm on the counter for support, he was weak at the knees....It was getting to him.

It's Just one of those dark and sketchy meetings he convinced himself...the ones you enter into your calendar or Diary as a "Ma2moreyya" or "gym with trainer" to fool yourself into believing its not as big as what it really is...such a conundrum, an induced white lie for comfort..., not the recipients comfort, but that of the Liars..

for both persons are merely one and the same in this situation.

The concierge handed him an envelope with the agreed lie written on it"for Sammy..." it read.He flipped it over to open it, and reveal to his anxious eyes the contents. He was prepared until this moment. He was given instructions until this phase, the rest he will just follow.

he felt excitement,

he felt fear...

the two adjoined can be overwhelming.

The envelope contained a small 10 by 4 card..

a business card, same texture same thickness.. no details, just dead center in the middle it read....... Room 613.

He asked the bellhop for the directon to the elevator, he gestured him to head down the narrow corridor to the right, the one furnished with a red velvety wall to wall rug.As he walked down the narrow crevice, the air went stale, with a prominent whiff of cheap cigarette tobacco, he could tell its one of those old regal like hotels that are withering away with the times. neglected and left to rot.The perfect setting.

As he leaves the brass elevator door on the sixth floor, he looks left and right..he sees a brown wooden door, with a golden doorknob at the end of the corridor to his left, it read 611...so he knew where to head down.

He stopped in front of the door of 613, realizing finally that he has reached his destination. This is it, it will all be over soon. He recollected himself before knocking, formed his fingers into a makeshift comb and ran them through his hair three times, re-adjusted the knot on his brimmed tie, and fidgeted with the unshapely lapels of his raincoat, and knocked.The minimal force of the rap his knuckles made on the door while knocking just swung it ajar. Its open he realized.

He walked into a dark room, the lights from the outside seeped through the white silk curtains giving an air of blueish white to the room, the light reflected off the bed, the desk and mirrors. he didn't need to turn on the light to know he was in just another hotel room clean and neat. The arrangement of furniture screamed standard Hotel configuration. Bed faced by mirror and desk, TV on Desk, Closet to the right of the beds, bathroom right next to the door and a small table and arm chair across the corner by or in front of the balcony.The balcony sliding glass door was open, allowing a breeze to come in to give life to the white silk curtains.He could see an orange glow from behind the curtains, moving and glowing more intense after a movement...Cigarette he concluded, He awaits me outside.He passed through the curtains, only to find a white plastic round table, and two plastic white chairs on either side of the table. The farthest one, was occupied by a silhouette of a bald headed man in glasses, super fit, legs crossed over the table, ashtray in lap, and an almost spent cigarette that will be a butt in less than 30 seconds in his right hand.A voice said sit down, he didn't see the lips move, he can barely see the face despite the light source reflecting on everything else. He only assumed the voice was that of the man, since nobody else was around.

"It's a pleasure to.."

"Shut up..." Interrupted the unseen man.. "did you get it?"

The unseen man's voice was so raspy, it distorted in your ears.

" yes, here is the confirmation of the bank transfer.."

"Don't you just feel important saying that..? probably it lost its flavor ages ago...you said it a hundred times before to impress yourself, it gives you a false feeling of importance doesn't it? It also makes you feel important if anyone is listening in to your conversation, you think they would probably think you are some hotshot don't you... I just ask why? why do the likes of you have this unnecessary need to feel important, what have you invested...what did you put all your money on, what did you REALLY go through to have this need to reassure yourself that it paid off? you probably didn't get a bicycle for Christmas on your 8th Birthday because daddy had a bad year..or didn't have enough time to bother and get you a Christmas gift was that it? did that make you feel worthless? and hence you spent the rest of your life chasing recognition that you are worthy? was that what put you through the bullies at school , through an Ivy League education paid by a bank loan you probably paid off in less than 5 years of working your ass off for a fortune 500 company? did it also put you through the ruthless competition offered by your peers who wanted your next promotion for themselves? and you worked at it after hours with no overtime and through the night? till you proved yourself worthy to that unknown close to retirement manager in the corner office who was your ticket to board room meetings? which a few years later landed you with an incomprehensible title that sounds important? which in turn meant more zeros on your paycheck? it made you feel better about yourself didn't it? and to reward yourself you probably leased a nice two doored sports car? you think that's original? you think you are the only one on the planet who wants one? who can get one? well lets not get into that, but you probably think you are something, and felt it for a few years, until it got normal...boring, the usual...and then comes the need to be special again...the moment it was mentioned we will "utilize the services of a professional who can make our problems go away" I am sure you felt stunned...enthralled, wished you can personally be the one who goes to "utilize such services" and that's why you are here...all you want to do is feel important..

at a very high expense..

I wish i was your Father, I woulda just got you the fucking bicycle..."

Meeting Two: Horton & The Woman in Red Stilettos

His impeccably shiny cuff links glimmered across the place,attention to such detail only tells you how well dressed and well groomed this middle aged man is. He keeped his eyes fixed on the bartender as a comfortable space, he always did that when he was under the spotlight.

She was expecting an elaboration.

"look Selma, you have to understand, i will divorce her anyway you know these things take time".

"No, you understand you dick...I am not your Bitch...I am not a Bitch...you will not leave me high and dry after you took what you want.."

"That is why I am saying we should stop seeing one another, at least until I settle things with my Wife.."

"And what if you dont?"

"Then we dont keep a bad thing going..."

It took her a few seconds for her to fathom what he was implying. It shook her on the inside..like thunder booming all of her insides, she needed the few seconds to wait for everything to settle, then she can resume normal biological activity.

She resumed, more composed...she reached for her bag, and pulled out her phone, she said the following while she was fiddling with her phone, it looks like she was looking for something.

"you see,........................technology.........can...be a good thing..., back in the day...women in my position didnt...have anything to protect themselves with" she flipped the phone so he can see the screen...she gleamed in ecstacy when she saw the look on his face, she never saw his eyes so wide, they were big and wide enough that she can actually see the reflection of the images he is seeing now.

First he was shocked...

Then when the thought of how she had him grabbed from a very weak spot sunk in, the shock turned to fear,

and in an instant...

less than an instant actually...

the Fear turned into anger....

They were both old enough to be composed despite the provocation.

"Listen, I know exactly what you are, and i dont need to say it, I am sure you are smart enough to figure out what you are, what do people call the filth who do things like what you just did. Its sad really, it sad that you are weak enough to be a victim of circumstance, to let your past, your history and what you have gone through during your life dictate upon you what to become. You might have a noble cause, you crave security and provision much like any other woman. You were deprived of it with your first husband, instead of security he gave you imprisonment, and yes, he did provide you alright, he provided you with all sorts of cuts and bruises. The last straw was when he beat your second baby out of you. that was the last straw, and thats what everyone knows, ever since then and you have been conniving and plotting to get a man, a better one , one who will not beat you, one who will worship the ground you walk on, give you all you need and more. A mere creation of Fantasy, a man too good to exist, You must understand that men have limited means, if their means were unlimited they would provide endlessly, but an unchangeable fact is, they will always have limited means. Should you refuse to accept that, you will never be at peace...argue all you want, deny all you want, it will not change a thing, its like trying to scratch the wall with your nails. You think if you are nice enough, sexy enough they will fall and give you all you want. So you open your legs, you lift up your skirt.. but what you dont realize, that what they gave you before that, is all that they can ever give. So they dont budge, and you go on to the next one, theyre all standing in line, yes, they are drooling, yes they want you..you provide for them what their own wives should provide for...and then they label you as the Housebreaker when its the wives that shoulda taken care of their men...cause if they did their business.. you would be out of business. But what you dont get is, you would be silly to ever think they would give away what they had, what took them years to build and choose you over that...if it ever happens it would be that a good one of them is punishing himself and is trying to right his wrongs by taking you in, and losing what he held so dear as penalty for his infidelities, but you would be silly to think he wants you over them. You are nothing but an Orgasm..a minute of intense pleasure, then he goes back to his life again."

already in tears mid monologue, Selma sobs, sniffs and almost collapsing..her wrists weaken, she cant look him in the face anymore, and hides in her hair facing the table..

he lifts up her head from the chin..gently, looks into her eyes and says:

"You did that to yourself..

I would marry you just because its the responsible thing...

I would marry you just because i am sick and tired of the home i have

They lost me, you found me..

I dont need you opening your legs so that i can pierce you...and make you feel vunerable, or violated,

I know what you are..

I understand what you are..

but with that stunt you pulled, I really dont think we stand a chance...

if its security and protection you seek...just be a dear and hand me that phone..."

Meeting Three: Vincent and the Boy with No Hair

"sorry i am late" he said, as he grabbed a seat in the food court...

"its okay dad, work getting the best of you as usual i assume..."

"story of my life...so tell me whats going on with yours?"

"hows mom?"

"shes better..i just texted the nurse, she says theirs slight improvement with her eye movement..tell me, do you need money?"

The Boy was infuriated...but kept it all in...he can't beleive his father, he can't beleive that his father doesnt see it, he doesnt see that his neglect for everything in his life at the expense of his job is making everything else crumble, he cant see that what happened that day a few months ago was a final and desperate call for attention, that he has become a "pervert" as his father called him out of his loathing for his dad, he refuses to share anything with his father, even his fathers sexual orientation. He resents his father for what he has done, and he hates the concept of a family and what it represents out of what his father has done to him and his mother..

Of course the mother wasnt as strong, she got a nervous breakdown when she found out her only child was gay, she went into a coma and is improving slightly...All his father cared about was work, he couldnt get time off to care for his love of 30 years and decided to get a nurse...he texts her three times a day, and just works works works...you would assume he runs a country, but in the end its just a biotechnology company that does medical research and sells it to whomever is interested, pharmaceuticals, universities, governments, etc...

He even tried to think about things objectively..could it be that maybe his father was escaping? fleeing from the hardships of life in his job...distracting himself from all the problems he has to face, that he has failed as a husband? a father? a neighbour and a friend?

His Blackberry is his only friend....his only family, his company is his only son...

He ignored all that and said...

"yes, i will be needing money to cover my operation"

"what operation?"

"my sex-change operation"

Meeting Four: Just a Couple of Regular Fellows (inspired by that scene)

{Int. coffeehouse, smoky bar occupying far side of establishment, full house, waiters passing by with trays, noisy clatter of cutlery...zoom in on table mid-room...table for two...two middle aged men seated across one another Bobby & Al}

Al: so, you workin on something big

Bobby: [grimace] yeah..a lil bit

Al: you know, someone lookin at us now, would probably think we are friends...a coupla regular fellas..but theres something you gotta get, if it comes down to you...or the cop you are about to turn your wife into a widow..you're goin down!

Bobby: I do what i do best, i take out scores..and you, you do what you do best, try to take out guys like me...

Al: and what makes you think i wont be able to take you out?

Bobby: a friend of mine once told me...never let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat once you feel the heat..coming from around the corner.

Al: so what do you got to give me?

Bobby: A guy, old school...washed out, he now works on dirty jobs for fortune 500 companies...calls himslef "Murk", the fuck wears sunglasses at night and chain smokes... hes taking out some guy thats supposed to testify infront of a grand jury, about some biotech company doing human genome cloning...theyre american but have all their cloning activites in Hamburg, if you squeeze him, he'll give you all hes done in the past 20 years, ...Mob hits, gun running, clombian coke..the guy's a veteran

Al: whats in it for him..

Bobby: give him immunity...hes got all the dough he needs...the guy is smooth, try to involve the feds as well...theres a guy over there.. his name's Hoit..hes worked up a case on the guy..has a keen interest, the guy took out his partner over a decade ago...he'll help you...

Al: what are your sources..

Bobby: did a job with him once, we met at a Damien King party..hes good to work with...

Al: King?

Bobby: nah...King's an asshole..I meant Murk... will you get the check?

Al: nah, your treat this time...

Meeting Five: The Boardroom

Gentlemen, after obtaining quorum, I now commence the board 6th and final board meeting of Lifetech-Roslin for the year 2008, in the presence of the following individuals:

1- Myself Dr. Eliot Campbell Chairman of the Board

2- Mr. Vincent Mead Managing Director

3- Mr. Horton Finch Financial Director

4- Mr. Samuel Taurel Executive Director

5- Mr. Sid Goode of external legal counsel

After discussing the items on the agenda we have unanimously adopted the following Resolutions:

Resolution one : approving the minutes of our last meeting held on the 1st of October 2008

Resolution two: approving the financial balances proposed by Mr.Finch for the year closing December 31st 2008 to be finalized by January 10th 2009 and sent to our financial auditors for approval

Resolution three: approving the appointment of Sid Goode, of Goode, Marshall and Partners as external legal counsel for Financial Year 2009

Resolution four: removing the sum of 15,000,000 USD accrued for pending litigation and releasing them back into capital since charges have been dropped

Resolution five: Alotting 1% of annual profit to Research & Development.

With that, the meeting conlcuded and I thank the Atendees for their participation, Thank you..Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Nex Moribus Levum

"I lost my eye twelve years ago, The world has been half as interesting ever since."

The statement took Salamar off guard, its been a while since hes been taken by quite simple words. He was a man of action, hence immune to words. However it wasnt what was said rather than how it was said.

Salamar decided to give the speaker a closer look. "Hardly your regular handicapped" he thought.

The speaker was a tall fair skinned woman with jet black hair, probably dyed, and a green left eye with a subtle yet effective beauty spot a few decimeters below. The right one was covered in a black velvet eye patch, with clear white stiches at the seams, probably a designer thing. She had nothing else that was familiar about her face to be described, other than probably she'd remind you of Yasmine Bleeth.

Salamar always felt uncomfortable in the presence of pretty people, however her handicap confused him. This uneasiness he feels, is it because she is pretty, or because she misses an eye?

Her being pretty places her above him, her with only one eye places her below him, so is she above him or below him. A logical thought passed through his head to say shes probably in his place, for both attributes cancel each other out, but if that is so....

then why is he feeling uneasy?

probably because all 23 eyes in the room were on him, waiting for him to talk...

"Hello my name is Salamar....and Im an Alcoholic.."

"Hello Salamar!..." They all said in unsion.

"I dont want anything new...new needs change, and change scares me...it bears the equal risk of both success and failure, I just want to stick with what i know...and what i know is alcohol..I tried Golf..I might get better at it with time, but for now Im not Tiger Woods, Im not even close..But I am good at alcohol, and being good at something feels good..

I hate alcohol, I really do...my Liver cant take it anymore, it brings me headaches and i want to stop it..

Im just too good at it to stop it...

I stopped it since i started coming here, and ive been detached from everything, couldnt care less about anything, ran over a guy when driving home one night, lost my job and spent all my money on it...but its still the only thing i am good at..."

Joel has been bothered with what Salamar had to say from the moment Salmar opened his mouth, he wanted to say something. He waited for the right moment when it wouldnt be perceived as an interruption, and after introducing himself for the 100th time to the same crowd and getting the similar "Hello Joel" back...he said the following:

"Salamar..you really dont need to keep on going at something you hate just because you are good at it, I think your problem is with accepting that you failed, you are being stubborn, and by doing so you are just falling deeper into an abyss, it will only make your ascent all the more weary and longer, cause you've fallen too deep.

You need to work on accepting failure, its okay to be a failure..its not okay to do nothing about it let alone deny it...we all learn from our mistakes, and we rise out of them better people".

Salamar in his prime wouldnt have let this go, and would have argued to the last of his breath...however he simply told himself he cant be bothered. His response was filled with Silence.

The meeting continued with the next three speakers, all through which Salamar didnt get his eyes off the one eyed girl (hereinafter referred to as "OEG"), who in turn had her one eye focused on the watch high up on the wall.

As the meeting concluded, oeg grabbed her black coat and headed for the door. Salamar followed, he wished he wasnt daydreaming throughout the meeting, only then he woulda picked up her Alias, and he simply cant just yell One Eyed Girl dead into the corridor to attract her attention..I mean it most certainly done the job but that would be downright offensive. He at least had adherence to that.

she stopped outside the building to hail a cab. He offered a ride, she reluctantly accepted.

They talked quite jovially for a first meeting, and he felt a feeling he has never felt before...

He felt like he was good at something other than Alcohol.

For the following few months..he enjoyed the meetings, and the coffee with oeg after the meetings..and he really got to know her quite well, her name is Sylvia, she lost her eye in one of the many bouts of domestic violence she had with her ex-boyfriend. the rest is history he knew from the meetings...

Sylvia has been cold and reserved, and nonetheless cynical ever since her accident with her eye. She considered having a prosthetic eye but then shed pass for normal. She wanted the world to know she wasnt normal.

"Sylvia?"

"what.."

"you make me happy.."

"ok"

" I really would like to repay the favor...I want to do something for you.."

"go ahead"

"yes, but what would make you happy?.."

"I am happy.."

"Yes, but i want to make you happier, i want to show you what you did to me, how you made me feel..."

"get a grip...what did i do...i did nothing"

"no you did, and i want to show you, what can i do to show you?"

"I dont know"

Her mind automatically shifted to something else, as if it resolved that this issue is closed, and she said with her eyes lighting up..

"you know what would be cool? Robbing a bank... I always think its cool to stick a gun to a tellers face and say, i am making a withdrawl..., Dont you think its funny?"

It this point Salamar didnt know wether to feel offended, or realize that he hit a jackpot.

"I'd crush the stupid fuck's head in if i were you" Said Douglas...

" come on, dont be too egotistical Doug.."

"whats egotistical about it, the guy deserves it...now go fill up my glass will ya?"

" I thought you quit..."

"that was ages ago..."

"didnt you do AA?"

"AA is for sissies and that was before the promotion"

Douglas smiled as if he finally proved he's a wiseass...handed his flute to Eric for a refill, and smiled cockily as he spotted a hardbody of a woman in the corner,

"Hey, can i get you something to drink?"

"sure..."she said, as she revealed a very expensive smile and a tiny triangle shaped tongue flickered from between her lips to dampen the side of her mouth..

He engaged himself with small talk and a few jokes, until Eric came over with two flutes, one of them was seemingly Eric's...yet, Doug just took both, gave one to the Girl who apparently is wearing a Vera Wang, to match his Hugo Boss grey suit.

"Did you know that Vera Wang originally does wedding dresses Eric?...oh sorry, Eric this is Jaimie with an i-e , frankly i know no other jaimies...Jaimie this is Eric, my best friend..

Eric internally choked at the introduction...

"so now im The Ego's best friend" he thought..

In less than a second, Douglas left both Jaimie and Eric to go schmooze and socialize to a high powered suit that just walked onto the main foyer..

Eric felt really awkward standing next to a superhardbody like Jaimie, he knew she will leave in 10 seconds if he doesnt reel her in.

"Look its okay, he does it all the time...thats Doug Mason for you...anyways, Im Eric..."

"And I am not interested..."

The next day, Salamar was scheduled for picking her up to go to the meeting.

Only today, they werent going to go to the meeting.

After driving a few blocks away from her house he handed sylvia a ski mask and shotgun...

"What the hell are those for?!" She exclaimed

"I thought you wanted to rob a bank..."

"Sal.. I said its cool to rob a bank , i didnt say i want to rob one.."

A look of utter dissapointment befell Salamar's face..

"So you just want to go to the meeting?"

"Is there any other option...?"

"yes, we can rob a bank..."

"You are crazy...!"

"only about you..."

"Sal, I dont love you...Sal , i dont love anyone.."

"I dont care Sil...I just love you...now will we go Rob that bank?"

She stayed silent until he parked infront of a big business type commercial bank...he shifted the gear into park and said he didnt come here all dressed up for nothing. She told him that hes on his own, she will wait for him in the car.

He got out of the car..regretting everything he did in his life.

He is just one big Fuck up..

two seconds later, Sylvia joined him with the shotgun and ski mask with a smile on her face...

* * *

Salamar's Sister has been worried sick about him for a few days now, shes been deseprately trying to hear anything about him. She called everyone, everyone who cared. Nobody has heard of him...nothing. She waited by the phone. Any lead was better than sitting like that with nothing.

Her Heart stopped and beat back to life when the phone rang...it was her best friend Sherry...

"Elsa, i think you should open the news on channel 1"

"...Have been identified as Salvatore Olp aka Salamar..an unemployed Business Development manager and Sylvia Sumner a troubled Social worker...after questioning people on scene the investment manager of the bank revealed that his efforts to releive the situation were instigated when he identified one of the assailants as a troublesome ex lover, who has a history of violence..further investigations have proven that the first assailant, Olp was refused a personal loan from the bank six months ago...and we have now Douglas Mason Investment Manager of The Bank for comment:

"Its a shame that society fails to help troubled people with fitting in..the result of which is this atrocity that has taken place today..I tried to calm sylvia down but it seems that she already had her mind made up...it was like she woke up this morning, with the intent to die..I am sure this troubled man manipulated Sylvia, and used our personal history for his own financial gain. Its a pity and a reassurance that he avoided Justice by his demise today.."

"When asked about further actions, the Investment manager replied by saying that, this matter is closed, and he will be having "a quiet night with his girlfriend Jamie"

Welcome to my World said the Spider to a Fly

There it goes, buzzing around, minding its own business, going about its daily business with not a worry in the world. Merely a little pest, that can rest assured it will be at no risk unless it meddles with someone else's affairs.

Ti's a wise pest that little fly..for it cant be fooled.

Or so it thinks.

The fly's father told it of all the hazards life might pose to a fly, all the perils it might throw its way.

Do not be fooled by the allure of the Venus Fly Trap, for it can be deadly.

Always stay light on your feet, don't get too comfortable in one place, for its inevitable that you will have to go somewhere else. don't trust the ground under your feet. The only thing you can trust, are your wings. train them.

The only place you can feel comfort and security, is in the air where you report to no one, where your only enemy is gravity, and you were created to beat it , For God gave you wings.

Beware the Hazards of Bugspray...all it takes is one breath

The Fly took these lessons to heart, promised itself it will never be seduced by stability, for stability is nothing but the beginning of the fall.

*Buzz Buzz*

Probably if flies could whistle, our little fly would be right now. un-suspicious of anything in the world, in total confidence of its capabilities and judgement.

A little too cocky ain't we?

Ego...

Across the room, in the highest corner...laid a Web, intricately built, with patience and perseverance.

Attention to detail and infinite symmetry would be putting it lightly.

Along came a Spider, crawling effortlessly on what to many would be the tightrope above the waterfall.

No sticks for balance,

No arms for equilibrium,

Just an eight legged freak, cruising on the almost invisible.

I never knew these things were so durable, its very rare maybe even unique to find biological tissue that is actually non-biodegradable. I heard they make bulletproof vests out of spiderwebs,

You may crush the Web, you may remove it from its place, yet you can never cut a strand...not even with scissors, I tried...

*Buzz Buzz*

Our vain little fly was consumed with smelling its armpits ( in this case wingpits) that it didn't notice it was head on with a Spiderweb ( so much for compound eyes)

You had to see it, in slow motion, from the side...just like those crash tests with the dummies.

Denial...

You can watch the fly almost jetting through it like a bullet, but in the last second before it is free, just when the fly is pushing the Web to the limit of its flexibility...you see the whole web stretching with it.

And finally pulling back........

DOOM!

that's how the fly felt......

Nailed!

that's what the Spider thought....

Who put this Web here? why would a silly spider put a web my way...can't it realize i have somewhere to go? Damn these spiders...always messing with our schedules? I'll give that spider a piece of my mind when i see him..who the Hell does he think he is!!!?

Anger...

The Fly trying to writhe out of the situation, only to realize the more it writhes, twist and squirms, the deeper it entrenches itself into the bulletproof fabric...This is where our arachnid makes his initial appearance...

As it approaches the fly, it becomes more composed, more certain of its role...

The fly, can smell the Arachnid approaching,

So sweet..so different..

What you are actually smelling o little winged one is the familiarity of your fate..

You mean this is my end? does it all end here? Please dont let this be the end? i swear ill do anything.. ill come back every night but please let me go about my day...dont take my freedom away..i want to fly as i please..do what i please, ill be yours but ill do what i please..

Bargaining...

It recalls Papafly's with every effort, and is befallen by an unescapable fear of dissapointment, and shame..how dare I fall utters the fly...I am so much better? I am doomed..this spider will keep me in his webs..and only he can release me...when it does..it will be lunchtime for him...and endtime for me..

How i wish i would have done more...

How i wish i wouldn't have waited, thinking i have all the time in the world...

How i wish i wasnt so vain...

How i wish i would've watched where i was going..

Fine..go ahead...take me...

Depression....

I wont take you, not unless you want to be taken...all i do is set the trap, you fall in it..if you didnt, then i dont want you, this is my way of selection..that is how i select my prey..you passed the test, or you failed depending on which way you want to look at it.

Accept your fate,

It is what is meant to be..

As it is meant to be that you be taken wether you like it or not, It is meant to be that i take..wether i like it or not..

Isnt it possible that i might like being taken than doing the taking myself..

Its my nature,

I can't fight it...

Don't fight yours..

It's futile...

You wont win...

I wont win...

Fate wins..

in the meantime, welcome to my World, a world where everything hangs on a thread..yet stuck together by an intricate web...The Web is strong, but you can hardly see it, or feel its effect. Follow the lines and you will go wherever you want, whenever you want..the road has been already paved for you.

All is controlled...

My control..

Dont you find it appealing?

Dont you find it comforting?

Calm down...its not chaotic as you think, in fact it is not chaotic at all.

Its an Ante-World..a Purgatory..without the judgment, without the Punishment.

its seemingly chaotic, but actually theres an order to it.

Its the fear in you that brings about the chaos..

the fear of change..

the fear of losing control

The fear blinds you...it convinces you that it is chaotic, thats how it is seen from the outside, it makes it seem unappealing to others.., hence they flee...for they are superficial, and judge by exteriors..

you need not be afraid, look at the bliss others miss..

Do not fear losing control..

You need not be in control..leave that burden to me and enjoy..

I am in control

Trust me...

How do you like it?

Acceptance....

Boys Wanted

Boys of spirit, boys of will,

Boys of muscle, brain and power,
Fit to cope with anything,
These are wanted every hour.





Not the weak and whining drones,
Who all troubles magnify;
Not the watchword of “I can’t,”
But the nobler one, “I’ll try.”



Do what you gotta do,
With a true and earnest zeal,
Bend your sinews to the task,
Put your shoulders to the wheel.



Though your duty may be hard,
Look not on it as an ill,
If it be an honest task,
Do it with an honest will.



In the workshop, on the field,
At the desk, wherever you be,
From your future efforts, boys..
Comes a Nation’s destiny.

Hamlet : Revisited

Posted upon personal request:

"I saw him today, it was too surreal, this never happened I never thought it would..

Where was fate today, called in sick? it never should

Never should have happened, this abomination of destiny...

When a man meets his fathers killer, and greets him with intensity,

The sort you save for a cherished guest,

Or the riddance of a confounded pest,

Why do you ask? why should a man be put in this mess,

For it is expected of that man, to be in love with excess,

excess success, excess possessions,

enough to drown him, from the need of confessions.

He dream t of War and dream t of Peace,

Unvanquished victory, and the fighting would cease,

The looting of spoils for it is fair game,

But War and Peace to him were the same,

Same battle same enemy, not against orc or elf...

The War , The Peace were both with oneself..

The Spoils extravagant, the Satisfaction a plenty,

His wealth two folded, multiply it by twenty,

A Nimrod created to walk the earth,

An evil beast, destined from birth,

The same beast who loved and cared,

For his prized possessions which he always shared,

Cleansing the dirt he feels and no one sees,

His passion for Goodness, apparently would fill up streams,

Along the way, he made some friends, but always more enemies,

One would haunt him and rid the world of his felonies,

The One that would haunt him, always overlooked,

Expecting it to come from the owners of the Billions you took,

The Billions you took, looted and plundered..

Their cries in your heart, never really thundered,

But O what is Money next to The Soul of a man,

The Soul of a man, who did all he can,

All he can to live, and constantly provide,

for his Son was raised on principle and pride,

His Son has always sworn to bring you down,

And so he starts his journey to your town,

On a Dark Knight in the Hazy Shades of Winter he asks him about his Unfulfilled Dreams,

About Chances, first and second, for nothing is what it seems,

About your Choices, black or white, your lessons from the highway,

Do you regret you did things your way?

Dont you see the anger, the anguish your choices made?

Cant you see how much it cost? and the price to be paid?

A Lifetime of Parting, Crusaders will Raid?

Intruders meddling, they will always ask..

For Loving a brother instead of another is no easy task.

You chose yourself over your own brother,

You shamed yourself, You shame your mother,

How dare you kill him, what would be the excuse,

my dear dear uncle,they are of no use..

let your billions help you..let them help you squirm..

But beleive me O old one, in hell you will burn..

I vowed revenge from the day i knew..

But wouldnt that make me just as bad as You..."

Picture This

A Black Camaro SS with with racing stripes, ferociously thumping against a stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. The day couldnt be more sunny. Its hot, but the speed brings about a cooling breeze, mixed with the heat coming from under the hood, it gives the driver a bitter sweet sensation.

The playful sensation brings about playful thoughts. Love and Hate are one and the same, both feelings, both can be experienced with intensity. Both reassure the same fact, you are alive, and you feel..

You hate standing in line, its painful, and partially degrading..but the pain of it, the degradation, reassures you that the reason you are standing is important enough for you to go through the pain. Masochism, maybe..

For as far as he can see, its nothing but road, road and a horizon of endless desert and clear blue skies, a couple of gliding birds, hawks maybe even vultures scouring the dichromatic image of blue and yellow. He knows where he is going. He has never been more sure of a destination in his life. The journey cannot be more perilous. Its vast, its desolate and if he stops, theres no where to go.

To top it all off, hes low on fuel. He consumed alot of it on other pointless journeys.

This one isnt pointless.

Its probably the most significant of them all.

He thought the same about all of them.

However,

Never before has he seen such determination from himself,

Never before has he tolerated such perils..he doesnt even flinch,

If the car putters out of gas, he has no problem pushing it the rest of the way.

If he gets too tired, he will abandon it and keep walking, he can get another one when hes there.

If he gets too heavy for his legs to carry, he will lose weight by chopping an unnecessary limb.

He must get there,

Its what he dreamed of acheiving all his life, and nothing of what he dreamed of in the same time.

He knows this is it, because that is what his tongue told him.

He never doubts his senses.

Yes the Bottle is made of glass..

Yes the label reads Heinz

Yes the condiment is red,

But he knows Mustard when he tastes it...

He wants mustard, He loves the bitterness, the playful taste, how bitter and ominous it can be only to releive you with smoothness afterwards.

He can't find mustard anywhere...

He only found it inside a bottle of ketchup.

Ketchup is cool though, everyone thinks Ketchup is the Condiment, he doesnt..

to him its only good on fries..yet he still eats fries with salt and pepper.

everyone thinks hes after ketchup, but is afraid to admit it , to retain coolness and originality.

But beleive it or not

he hates ketchup

and hes persuing mustard disguised as ketchup.

Twas the Man in the Turban that told him of the legendary Ketchup looking Mustard. He hates Turbans, but was intrigued..

He wants Mustard...

He needs Mustard..

He values it to the extent that hed want to keep it from the world, so what better mustard to indulge in, than one that disguises itself as an ordinary condiment...

Ketchup... he traveled the far corners of the world to get this special mustard, he pseudomorted in mexico, congregated with Arms Dealers in Europe, was almost bitten by a rattle snake, was burnt in a car accident, was run over by a runaway smiling japanese car colored like the sky, subjected to carvel like sexual harassment, engaged in unruly celebrations of hate... had an army of dancing overlords chase him in a parking lot..took up an alias, lived in cheap motels, had all his personal belongings thrown out of his window, temporarily deafened, attacked by wild ants in the woods, fallen out of an airplane above the city, crossed three countries in one day, catered to the whims of an Excloosive princess...

He'd go for so much more,

This is nothing next to how much he loves mustard..

Mustard makes him feel like The One,

Mustard makes shit taste like steak..

Mustard soothes him,

Mustard sends him secret messages in the middle of the day

Mustard would stay up all night in preparation to feeding him the next day

Mustard pleases him,

Mustard smothers him..

Mustard helps him inhale both air and smoke

Mustard helps him exhale both air and smoke

It makes him buff up and lose weight

It devours his old T-shirts with Stains, and makes him buy new ones

And this is merely the beginning...

Picture This, Your life is a Burger, We are all born with burgers, the same, the burger in a bun..what we do with our lives is the filling, some add cheese, some add pickles, some add lettuce, some tomatoes, some all , some leave it plain, some a combination.

But all, without exception must have a sauce on top to actually make it an edible burger..

a livable life..

33rd Floor, Six windows from the Right

On the 33rd Floor, Six windows from the right stood a man. A man with tall wavy black hair, all coiffed up in a hairdo quite similar to that kid who does superman in smallville. The man was quite tall, almost filling the entire length of the panoramic floor to ceiling windowpane. Dressed in a black pants and a crisp white shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned, you can tell hes back from a glamorous night. He stood by the window, perching his right forearm on the pane, The left one balled up into a fist and resting on his waist. You could tell from his face that he was in a deep state of pondering, not thinking, but pondering. There's a difference you see, Well according to him, cause that is what he always told anyone who would dare intrude on his thoughts.

For Thinking, is you recollecting a particular event, assessing it or your performance, or someone elses performance in reaction, the effect of it, and then an expected course of action about it if its not yet settled. You are in control, and mentally occupied by a particular and specific, maybe even pending event.

Pondering, on the other hand..is Wandering ( that is probably why they rhyme) into the fields of your mind, thinking about whatever your conscious throws up to you. You arent in control, you arent thinking of something in specific, and hell you arent determined on conjuring up some sort of resolve.

Anyways, now back to that man at the window on the 33rd floor, sixth window from the right. He's a doctor. a heart surgeon actually. not exactly the most famous but slowly on his way there. Which in itself is quite an accomplishment for his age. His pondering was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was one of those knocks that are followed by an opening door, they merely inform you of someone coming in rather than requesting your permission. An Elizabeth Shue type walked into the room dressed in home comfy clothes walked in. She wore grey sweatpants and a wool-like V neck Cardigan that fell at the right shoulder. If it was hers then she probably lost copious amounts of weight if the label read "Tight Fit". She walked into the room Cautiously yet warmly...maybe even sympathetic, but you can tell it wasnt her fault.

"So how was it?" She asked
He was open to answering, but was interrupted by the sound of a vibrating phone on the plush Duvet covering the bed. It was the Hospital calling. Its probably an emergency. Frustrated, he picks the phone up, slips it into his pocket and leaves.

On his drive over to the Hospital, in his Sporty Volvo..he had flashbacks, images of Elizabeth Shue allowing herself to sit on the Bed, and nestling her hands in her lap, showing her apparent attentiveness. How he should've looked there , when all he can look at and ponder about is why is a cable repairman on the building across working on a rooftop at 1am in the morning dressed in a white gown.."Probably some lunatic" he thought..
While parking in the Hospital's lot, he was about to run over a hobo while reversing into his reserved parking spot. He cursed at him and at his likes, thinking as to why dont they just get a job, or better yet commit suicide.

He walks into the Hospital Hallway, so full of himself. He is in his element, after years of studying and literally looking into the insides of people, so why shouldnt he be full of him self. He has achieved what so many have yearned for and failed. He cures people, gives them second chances in life..helps them fight something looming to take away their life, and are helpless..he makes miracles, he is divine.
He knows that thinking like that is downright wrong, but he just cant help it..plus, he is entitled,or if someone were to be allowed to think in this manner, it ought to be him. A little voice inside of him on the other hand tells him he will be punished for his thoughts, especially if he does act upon them, even if subtly. He fears that if God shows him who really is divine, he wont be able to handle it. He shelfs the thought in his head, right between "where to take Elizabeth Shue this Christmas" and " What was the effect of Exenetides on the gastro-intestinal centers of the CNS". He is prepped by his medical team on the patient he has to operate on. He asks very short questions the answers of which are shot back to him by a woman in green scrubs taking her job way to seriously and in a tone similar to a National Security Advisor briefing the president about a Nuclear Crisis. He finally walks through the door of the operating room which he secretly nicknamed the pearly gates.. for whomever is rolled into here on a stretcher is guaranteed heaven by his mere touch...
nasty thoughts, nasty thoughts...i should shelf them he thought...

With "La Donna E Mobile" booming out of a small boom box in the corner, he stands elbows out.. palms facing in at the height of his chest, waiting to be fitted with latex. pulls up the mint flavored mouth guard and works his magic.

the gloves were all bloodied up, scalpel in hand , with the patient gutted open like a fish, he was whistling to the tune and enjoying his handiwork.. he notices peculiar movement from the corner of his eye, he imagined the patients head move. he pauses...checks the ECG, heart rate stable and normal for someone under anaesthetic.
Just as he was about to put the scalpel to the patients Aorta, he hears a groan...
"did someone just groan?"
"No doctor".
The scalpel makes contact with the artery..he hears a chuckle..followed by a very eerie.."Stop..that tickles"
He just Jolted...and the scalpel falls out of his hand into the patient's insides..
"Shit!"
The medical team stares at the Doctor in awe, they are in the presence of legend...how can he slip up like that.. the lady with the Natsec tone tries to assure himself by wondering how much stress he must be under and asks him, "Doctor, are you tired?"
One of the Junior residents holds a flash pen and is cautiously looking for the scalpel inside the patient while the Doctor pauses and collects his cool. He closes his eyes only to see a face.. A white, pale wrinkled face with a sombre stare. its the patients face...
"Have we met before?" asks the doctor
"yes..a few hours ago"
"you were at the Gala Dinner?"
"No later.."
He just realized that he is having a mental conversation with a patient he is currently operating on, he really is loosing it..
"Doctor we are loosing him!!"
The Doctor snaps out of it.. and issues a salvo of orders ranging from extra adrenaline dosage to jump start the soon to be carcass on the operating table, and to start up the refiblirators to give him a charge.
the Natsec Resident interrupts the Doctor, objecting to the order, telling him that the patient has been comatose for a few weeks, revival is impossible.
"how? he said he was just with me.."
"DOCTOR!"
- flatline-

The eerie humming beep of the ECG always did haunt him...it is a bell that tolls when he fails......
he snaps the latex glove off his hand, and tosses it into the patients gut as if he were a wastebasket. Walks away..semi nauseous, and utterly dazed by what happened to him in there, and how he lost it.
trying to make sense of it all he walks into the elevator in his now bloodied scrubs..forgetting to change..
he presses the button for the ground floor.
Elevator doors close...
Elevator descends..
lights out...
Elevator stops between floors..
the lights flicker back again but dimmer than before...but keep flickering in a strobe light kind of effect. he sees the patient...standing next to him, smiling..with his gut opened up yet nothing falling out..the patient reaches into his chest cavity, starts moving things around and pulls out from his insides a bloodied glove and scalpel and tosses them at the Doctor's feet.
"I think these belong to you.."
The Doctor, fear stricken and close to a heart attack just stares..
"Why are you doing this to me" yells the Doctor
"Im not doing anything to you..You'd be silly to imagine the world revolves around you..oh well, what do you expect from a Nimrod like you...but while we're at it, thanks for the lovely job..my wife will love it im sure.."
And just while he was about to walk off..The Doctor stops him...
"Wait!....where did i see you before..?" inquired the Doctor.
" I was up there on that building...i saw you in the window pondering...33rd Floor, 6 windows from the Right.."

Reign on Me

He looked alot like Stuart Townsend, but a far more exhausted version. He sat in the corner of the room. The room was padded with worn out greenish brown wallpaper that even looked too tacky the decade it was rolled on. It was tattered and torn to form a makeshift collage between it and the wall it is supposed to blanket.

The faucet in the bathroom was dripping. So was the drool in the corner of his mouth.

He just sat there, in an upright fetal position chin resting on his knees, and his arms hugging his calves..

With his cold blatant stare glaring outside the window...the chaotic view of the street from the fourth floor wasnt all that flattering. he didnt budge an inch when the tram passed by the cheap hotel. You would think he was catatonic. but something about his eyes tells u he has no problem moving and this state is merely induced by choice. The look of Despair on his face was unmatched.

The black telephone set on the bedside table rang. its headset shook from the vibration induced by the ringing bell. it just kept ringing, he didnt budge.

Ten minutes later, someone is knocking on the door persistently.

A muffled voice came from behind the wooden door.

"Mr. Riddick are you okay?"

"Mr. Riddick please open the door"

Finally, he budges..he lets out an booming growl, and leaps from his crouching position to the emergency stairwell right out of the window, and slowly descends to the street. A few minutes of walking mechanically down the street , menacing at every onlooker. He walks into a club entrance called "Cesspool 8" , the bouncer with a deep commanding town asks him for a reservation. He just stares at him expecting the bouncer to understand he doesnt have one.

The Bouncer examines Riddick one more time to see if he can let him in, the guy looks like he could use some fun...is he a threat to the crowd? hmm... well only if provoked....the bouncer thought, but he stinks, smells like he hasnt showered in weeks. The shirt is drabby, sneakers...sorry dude, wish i could help...managements orders.

"Sorry sir, you cant come in without a reservation"

"I could really use a drink...."

The bouncer sympathizes with him,

"Theres a bar a few blocks down, ask for Sid...tell him Hank sent you."

Riddick heads towards the general direction of the Bar. he passes by the alley behind Cesspool 8. he sees something ruffling in the darkness. As he approaches he can smell the scent of two people in heat. They barely notice him, they are too preoccupied with what they were doing. With the girl cornered up on the wall by the man, Kissing wildly, she couldnt have the chance to warn the man with what peril was looming behind him.

In less than a second, the mans hand that was leaning on a wooden plank for support is struck dead in its center with a blade, you can hear the blade finally striking the wood after it penetrated the entire depth of his hand.

He screams in Pain. The Pain makes him buckle to the floor. The Girl is paralyzed in fear.

a raspy male voice sings in his head "Ohh Mary...Mary, it doesnt show but i can tell that you're so scared!"

He stares at the Girl...tries to comfort her..

"His name!"

"Howie, Howie Meyers"

The man on the floor is pleading for someone to get the knife out of his hand. Riddick twists it. the man passes out from the pain.

" Give me your ID",

she complies..."Now i know where you live...you say anything, i will come for you..now go home.."

He takes Howie's clothes, and knocks on the alleyway entrance..

the peephole slides back...he sees a set of black eyes.

"Howie Meyers" he days

The Slide goes back to its original position. a few seconds later, metal clanking and the door opens. he walks in and is hospitably gestured to come in and enjoy his stay by the owner of the black eyes. The Club is Eerily inviting, with its black marble floors, and green luminecent tubes turn every crack into something out of a science fiction movie, the lighting although quite neopunkish is far from distracting. theres a rail..as he approaches he can tell he will like what he sees. He walks closer to the rail..the music raging in his ears, thumping at his heart..moving all his internal organs,

Dum

Dum

Dum...

"Pause"

"He can see the people!"

Dadududududududududududududududm

"Enter the melody"...

Riddick's state far surpasses Euphoria, with his new clothes and new identity, hes transformed himself into another man. He owns, the Dancefloor, the people on it, The DJ...everyone. The Music has given him that power, for he who enjoys the music the most, and allows it to touch his soul is the most powerful of all of them. He modeslty approaches the bar to congregate with his slaves. a pretty one notices him and his loud velvety red shirt and italian seam black trousers.

"Kate.."

"Howie.."

Back in the Hotel room, everything is Dark, not how he left it at all. He left all the lights open and the TV on, now its pitch black. the bed is made, the faucet isnt dripping anymore, it actually smells fresh. The Door is swung open violently to the extent it nearly rips off of its hinges. A man carrying a woman perched up on his chest fumble around the neighbouring walls, chuckling..and she is squealing mid chuckles. They land on the bed. As he begins to undress her, she turns on the lamp.

He Stops.

Runs to the corner and sits just like how we first met him.

She goes to sit next to him, ruffles his hair and asks him what is wrong.

"Shes gone..." he said..

"who?"

"Cheryl.."

"Cheryl who..?"

he looks at her all wide eyed and angry... and yells "You' arent Cheryl!"

"Man you got issues, i am outta here.."

As she rises up to leave, he slits her heels with his blade, first they rip through her mesh stockings, then the skin.....then the artery, hes messy...he ended up with blood specks on his nose.

"You Freak!" She shrieked while she tried to grab onto anything for dear life.

He observed what he carved up out of her after he was finished. like a craftsman finally assessing his handiwork, like an artist admiring his finally finished portrait. he felt power, followed by doubt,

Remorse,

Pain.....

He remembered why he does that.

He misses Cheryl.

Cheryl used to light up his life, the source of his livelihood , she'd make the world beautiful. her power to solve any of his problems with a mere smile. She was everything to him, baby, girl, woman, teacher, even mother sometimes. he realized he had never lived before he met her.

What surprised him is, the first time he whispered i love you into someones ear was in a girl called Cheryl...not her , but another Cheryl, when he was a young boy.

The first time he had a car accident , was with a girl named Cheryl as well.

His most recent Car accident , was with Cheryl.

Only he survived.

fifteen minutes later, his reminicing session was interrupted by violent knocking on the door.

"Mr. Meyers, we heard screaming is everyone in there okay?"

"Mr. Meyers, please open the door".

- Thanks to Marilyn Manson for the lyric and the general feel of the post, And thanks to the real Cheryl, who should know she has the power to do that-

The Legend of the Man in The Long Black Coat and Gailee Zucchini

It sort of started like this:-

On a Friday afternoon, a Man in a long black coat walks into their dreary town. He seems to have crossed quite a distance, as he has gathered up different layers of dust on his clothes. his face always covered by shadows, be it the shadow from a leering building, or a nestling tree, he was always hidden in a sillhoutte of scarce shade in a very sunny and dusty town.
The weather was hot and dry..dusty but the water in the brook was high for this time of the year..
Gailee walks out on the porch with a dish under her arm full of fresh washed clothes. with washing line clips in her mouth she was ready for her battle with the hurricane of a breeze , and the dust it brings along with it. She saw the Man, no...actually she just saw the coat..walking by the brook. his footsteps rustling the dust settled on the bank. His pace reminded her of a Black Bull she once saw when she was a child. A memory of strange times in a stranger land, long forgotten.

Not a Word, not goodbye , not even a note...
She was gone with the man in a long black coat..

That night they had a celebration at the town hall. people were singing, dancing or merely hanging around...they were all there, young old , frail robust, everyone in town.
He made another appearance. At the forefront of the hall, stood the man in the long black coat..with a peaceful sneer on his face, looking at the townsfolk, he suddenly looked at her.
He Winked
Gailee blushed,
The Townsfolk noticed,
The Man left
Gailee ran out discreetly to avoid any further embarasment .
Hes Gone.. but then she notices something out of place , something lying on the white gravel...
A Little Black Book...
She picks it up and peers in side..its empty, but it has a dedication on the first page..it said
"To Gailee..." . Something inside of her moved, shifted, she never got a gift from someone before..at least not someone like that..she gathers up whatever awareness she has and tries to hide the fact that she is daydreaming her mind out about him.
As she enters into the hall again..she notices that he has stirred up quite the commotion.
"Who is this, this man in a long black coat,"
What business does he have in our little town?"
She smiled in the corner, knowing something that nobody else knew...it was a done deal..

It aint easy to swallow, it sticks in the throat,
She gave her heart to the man, in the long black coat.

The next day, the preacher was talking, he gave a sermon saying that every man's concience is vile and depraved, you cannot depend on it to be your guide..it is you O human that must keep it satisfied..

Some body said, from the Bible..he'd quote,
There was Dust on the Man in the long black coat.

McGraw, the Town Bully...came up to the man...and told him to flee town, he is no longer welcome. The Man bent over to Mcgraw and whispered something into his ear,turned around and left the church. Mcgraw's face reddened, and he followed the man outside. all the onlookers went outside to see what was going on. The Man and Mcgraw went over the hill.

Silence...
The man emerges from behind the hill...heading east..
McGraw does not..

There are no mistakes in life, some people say...
it is true sometimes you can see it that way...
People don't live or die, people just float
She Went with the man, in the long black coat,

Theirs smoke on the Water, its been their since June,
Tree trunks uprooted beneath the high cresent moon,
Feel the pulse and vibration, and the rumbling force,
somebody is out there, beating on a dead horse,

She never said nothing, there was nothing she Wrote, she went with the man in the long black coat..

Thanks Bob, i Owe you

Some Fucking Nostalgia

This isn't exactly what i signed up for,
I expected less, I expected simple..
I expected having my own little world, with the people i chose, and shut out the rest completely.
I don't like the world i see, and hell i can't do anything about it.
How am i supposed to make do?
I guess ill have my own little bubble...where the fantasies that fueled my smiles when i was 7 return...to fuel my squints, winks, and maybe even smirks...
But they wont even let me blow my own bubble and live inside it. They all don't want me to find happiness.
Yes i am blaming them, because my interests do not harm theirs...but theirs do harm mine
Who is the bad guy now?
Seebooni fe 7aali........ana geet gamboko?
In my quest i have seen, met and heard the wierdest sights, the strangest people and the absurdest statements, and i wonder again, how did i end up into all of this.

The Beach: its exactly like the good old days when id pick my surfboard (yes i did have washboards one day) to catch a wave, you wait for it, go with the flow and let it take you to the shore where you want to go. but then something happens, the wave is wilder than you expected...the tip of your board rises too high...you cant keep your balance, and you are engulfed back first into the wave in its final battle in futile fury...
You try to resist, and realize that its not exactly the best idea, you let go...wondering where you will end up...and you end washed up on the shore with alot of sand in your swimsuits, hair, and even in your mouth. you look at yourself and say.......okay, this isnt exactly what i had in mind, and you ask yourself why did i take this wave?
The problem is, the analogy isnt even correct, cause in reality you only get one wave... but its what the wave does to you that best describes it..

1. a looming tower of water that intrigues you to take it
2. a wild ride
3. a Very sandy landing
4. a dissapointing destination with possible damage

Question is, am i dissapointed?

You see i love building fortresses in the sand too but i always hated having the sand stuck between my nails, the problem with playing in the sand is, it gets pretty messy...but hey you are there...so why dont u just play in the sand...humans are ground creatures, if they were meant to conquer the sea, God would have created them with fins...or even gills...plus a fortress on the shore will last..till the tide at least, or some wad zareef who will kick it once u leave the beach as for the wave...its gone after u ride it...only to be replaced by another...

and another...
and another..

The Commute: sometimes, your job takes you across town, sometimes across the street, and alot of the times across the world, the last two cant really be called a commute, so ill stick to the first one. In a city loaded with traffic, you always have two paths, the direct one which is predictable, secure, yet normal, the easy route..and then theres the other way out, the one with the wierd sights..the risky weaving through traffic, and the stupid slow drivers in the way. Very stressful, not always guaranteed to take you where you want to go without significant damage to both your car and mood, but law salka...beteb2a SALKA...and you will get to where you want to go with your navy blue Jalopy faster than the next mofo with the fastest and reddest Ferrari in town.
You can take it, the beggining of the route beckons...you look at your watch and assume, its a win or lose situation could be salka or could be hell. You take it...
mid way you realize it was a wrong move. should you repeat your mistake and take another shemal fe yemeen on a parallel route? or just eat the toast you burnt?
I mean you can always be just late and blame it on traffic...
yet all roads lead to Rome...
No matter which route you take, you will always get where you want to go.

The Dinner: sometimes, your Social life takes you to sit down and have dinner with different people, some of them are pleasant, and leave an impression making you want to repeat it. some of them arent all that proper and you lose the number as soon as you close your car door. Some of them recommend a dish, engage in talk that you just don't want the night to end...to the extent that the restaurant manager doesnt want you to leave and asks for your number to give him pointers..Not because he thinks you are the shit...its because who you are with makes you the shit...
and some of them kill the flower on the table, or put their feet up, emit gastrointestinal noises mid-meal, or just lunge at you in the middle of a no longer discreet arguement and make you wonder how did u end up here exactly?
Despite all that, there is always the eternal dilemma of what dish to choose...
everything sounds delicious on the menu...but alot of the time when the dish is served on the plate right between your fork and kinfe you ask yourself...did i order this? Hell i dont want that...should i ask the waiter to take it back? what if he spits in it? will i have to pay for it and the other thing i ordered?
or should i just eat what i have been served...some people cant afford a grain of rice in Africa.

However, Them africans have access to shitloads of Diamonds, you could have just taken the bridge, or build that fortress on higher ground where the tide, and the 3eyal habla cant really reach it. And there is always the option of taking another street, catching another wave, or waiting till your next meal.

Smashing!

Pumpkins,

yeech! but this one is no ordinary Pumpkin, this one is a bullet with butterfly wings...my reflection in the mirror, born of love and cast through light...don't you know we cannot die...you can live with this one where no one will watch you on your way home...

This one, like no other... holds a bass guitar,
This one honors the family name better than the hockey star...
This one dresses like a star, always makes a statement, even if its just with shoes...
She will never be replaced, although someone has taken her place..
No Hole can ever fill her place...
We can never forget your cries in Zero...
to which we all think of you as a Hero

D'arcy Wretzky..this Post is for you,...strike the chords forever...

dedicated to the Three D'arcys , the Zeitgiest, Sukie and all the Smashing Pumpkins fans out there.

For God & Country...
2allak 2edrab...

20 Questions

Nope, not the game, these are 20 questions i am truly sick and tired of hearing:

Q1: Are you Happy?
A: I guess
What I really mean: You don't see me jumping off a bridge and leaving a fucking note now do you?

Q2: Whats new?
A: Not much...
What I really mean: You'd be truly pathetic if I happen to be your source of current events.

Q3: Wa7eshni ya man, inta Ghatsan feen?
A: mafeesh ya 3am, enta elli ghatsan
What I really mean: Well why dont you reach for your phone and call me every once in a while you hypocritical fuck!!!

Q4: Netsharaf be 2esm 7adretak?
A: ....Osiris Kane
What I really mean: ana mesh gay 2at3arraf ya K*s Om*k khalasni...

Q5: *said while you are walking into a place* aiwa ya Ostaz?
A: Na3am....
What I really mean: *in Clint Eastwood mode* go ahead, make my day

Q6: Are you a player?
A: huh?
What I really mean: oh, so you are one of them structured girls...I guess I'm wasting my time

Q7: Do you still think of me / have feelings for me?
A: of course i do...
What I really mean: look, I'm not exactly hot shit...move on, get a life...find a guy that'll make you forget i ever even existed...do you want Brad Pitts number?

Q8: Wow, you are a Lawyer? do you like stand in front of a judge and shit?
A: erm...yeah
What I really mean: What the Fuck? do you ever ask a Doctor does he open up patients and write prescriptions? i mean... there are millions of us out there...

Q9: wow, you cook?
A: i have to eat you know...
What I really mean: Walk into any Kitchen of any fucking place that serves food...you'll find a man sweating over a stove, so seriously..don't be impressed.

Q10: mesh nawi tetgawez?
A: leeh bas ya 3am...?
What I really mean: oh and end up like you? no thanks...oh and btw, if i ever do, you wont be invited to the wedding

Q11: Does this make me look fat?
A: yes
What I really mean: You wont get a compliment outta me, so go fish somewhere else.

Q12: Whats wrong? *said generally*
A: nothing its okay....
What I really mean: Its none of your business

Q13: Whats wrong? *said specifically*
A: nothing, its okay...
What I really mean: Ask yourself, see where you fucked up...and thats exactly whats wrong

Q14: How do you represent someone who you know is guilty?
A: look, its not my job to make him get away with something he's done, my job is to help the judge have a clear picture of his side of the story, so that he gets what he deserves, its never about winning or losing, if he gets 7 years, and he deserves 3...then i should find something better to do, if he deserves 7 and gets 3, then im an accomplice, and that doesnt make me feel in any way better. Guilty doesn't mean he still doesn't have a right to get the best defense he can afford. but beleive me he aint paying his way outta murder. This isnt John Grisham okay, this is real life, its less controversial and less exciting and most certainly less dramatic...although we wish it weren't
What I really mean: Fuck You!

Q15: We eeh tani?
A: ...............
What I really mean: say something for the love of God

Q16: Are you pissed?
A:....Eshta, Peace......
What I really mean: You fucked up...you know it, now fix it...

Q17: How was your day?
A: not bad...
What I really mean: wow, am I really that boring?

Q18: How was last night?
A: Zareef
What I really mean: hehehe....you have no idea....!

Q19: Inta mesa7eb?
A: I don't date....
What I really mean: It's none of your business...as far as you are concerned, my personal life is totally non-existent...

Q20: Any plans for tonight?
A: No, Call me...lets do something...
What I really mean: No, Call me...lets do something...

The Dancing Dolls in the Blue Dresses

Smoke and Tinkle Music,
the perfect setting, for 6 little dolls to do their Dance, a little sequence to entertain their Dollman...their Lord,
So Jolly,
so Dolly,
Just like the dolls in Tinder Boxes, they rise, just like the dolls in Tinder Boxes they bow,
they shake back and forth like little flowers bending to a soft gentle breeze...
the music giving their motion a very graceful backdrop...
their movements altering the music, their teethy smiles shining the room....
reminding me of what a happy trip on LSD would be like
their pigtails bouncing behind them,
Damn man, he is one lucky lord....
how can i get a half dozen of those?

Gotcha!!!

And he thought we couldn't figure out his next move now, didnt he?

This young aspiring entrepreneur (image altered) was seen courting 5 Eastern Europeans all on his own at the formerly chic but now strictly dodgy place known as Ritmo...at a downtown nile overlooking Hotel. recent news about the young man, after a stint in the desert to sort his ideas out, this man has shifted careers to investing in Gold...not that hideously bad an idea, given his prior endavors involved Iron Men and Tony Starks.
Casey, we still love you

News Flash

Former Governor Released from Jail after serving 7 year Scentence:
Former Governor of Giza Maher el Khamissi was released Saturday from el Mazraa prision. Khamissi was released after serving 7 years of his 15 year prision scentence. Khamissi pleaded Guilty to bribery charges in 2001 after tape recordings known to the media as the "Wadi Hof" tapes that were anonymously submitted to the Attorney General's Office. the tapes included a 90 minute conversation between el Khamissi and a unidentified woman only referred to as "Lola" discussing the particulars of delivering 18.5 million dollars to swiss bank accounts, and certain profits to be made from the development of a landfill in Wadi Hof into a condominum project.
El Khamissi made a brief statement infront of el Mazraa prison upon his release saying:
" I have served my punishment and return to you as a rehabilitated man, I am certain that my return to society will be a smooth one, and i have faith in God that i will be able to continue my endeavor to give back to the community."
When asked, el Khamissi did not reveal the identity of "Lola" claiming that Egyptian law only penalizes the public official taking the bribe and was not under legal duty to reveal her identity. Since his incarceration, the property at Wadi Hof has still not been developed, and remains as a landfill. "Lola" was never found, however the authorities have sufficient reason to beleive she has fled the country and a composite sketch of her , is still at Airport security along with all her known aliases have been logged into the Airport Incoming Watch List.
El Khamissi also added that he has no plans for running for public office once more, and choses to retire to his family.

Star Defender Fired by New Club Boss: Essawi is too fat, and has an obsession with Papa Johns:
rumors leaked to fans of the National Sporting Club F.C were later confirmed by Football Coach Henry Kleats that the new club boss in last weeks board meeting has dismissed Haytham el Essawi from playing on the clubs team. The rumors began to become "worrisome" after Essawi failed to attend last nights training. Kleats who attended the meeting quotes club boss Hanasiro saying:
" Essawi is turning into one fat fuck, the guy has man titties now!, whenever i attend the trainings all i see is a fat man in our number 3 Jersey eating a pizza, last time i saw him yelling to one of the waiters demanding a bottle of Heinz Ketchup and throwing what seems to be another brand of Ketchup in objection...i cant eat without my Heinz he says..."
Haytham el Essawi who has served as a defender was always been an integral part of the team for the past 5 seasons, and was inducted into the hall of fame after his stellar performance in the Clubs games in 2005's annual championship. El Essawi has recently been gaining considerable media attention as a result of his weight gain allegedly bought about from excessive overeating and his recent marriage to famed belly dancer "Samya Mawaheb" , the couple were also scrutinized in many tabloids late last year when they were photographed kissing passionately in the corner of a local bar in Agouza during a live performance of famous rock band "Egoz".

Mischa Carter attends annual Feteer eating contest in Ard el Lewa:
Egyptian Movie Star Mischa Carter attends the annual Feteer eating contest held by an orphanage in the random housing project of Ard el Lewa. When Asked, Mischa said "Eating is one of the most important acts committed by humanity, and we must teach children that eating is a good thing, indeed the media in recent years has portrayed beauty in a size 2, which leads to people depriving themselves from a beautiful thing such as eating". Despite being a Size 2 herself, Mischa admits to eating too much for her own good, claiming her motto in life to be " I eat, therefore I am". Mischa is rumored to be associated with acclaimed TV producer Moby D'eaucclit Chaupper's new untitled project set for release in 2011.
"I am in love with the script and have shown a keen interest..I even met with Michael last Saturday!"
PR Mogul simply known as "Michael" is also rumored to be pitching in with the project that is set to revolutionize the way we see TV. the two met at a Cafe in Mohandiseen regularly frequented by Michael to discuss the prospects of Mischa's involvement in Chaupper's Project.
Michael and Moby D'eaucclit Chaupper are close friends since 2006, they were introduced by Chaupper's wife Lana Deets.

Italian "Immobiliare" to fund Next 5 lines of Greater Cairo Subway:
The Undersecretary of Finance & Planning at the Ministry of Transport Mr.Adolf Kane in a press conference has stated that the Ministry has "Secured a commitment from the Italian conglomerate to finance the next 5 lines of the Cairo Subway system" which would bring the total number of lines running under Cairo to a whopping 8 lines. the expected extensions are supposed to span the entire capital with its expansions to conclusively link the 6th of October city and Sheikh Zayed Districts to the Fifth District in New Cairo & el Sherouk City. Mr. Kane also stated that "Immobiliare have committed 16 Billion Dollars for the project", prospects of further expansion were disucssed in the presence of Engineer Hesham Taqui Mandarin Managing Director of Taqui Madarin Group to extend the Sherouk and New Cairo lines to reach the Groups mega development project "Metropolis" situated in the eastern outskirts of Cairo.
The Memorandum of Understanding was signed between His Excellency the Minister of Transport, and Immobiliare CEO B.J. Harrison.

Kingpin Weds Grand Mufti's Daughter: Crime and Religion in Holy Union
Amidst the cheers of supporters and Religious chants, Damien King, alleged underworld Kingpin celebrated his legal union to the Grand Mufti's Daughter in Mashyakhet el Azhar this Afternoon. Spectators could both hear and see Jubilation in the air in the form of cheers and confetti which brings an end to the controversy regarding the alleged Kingpin's social behaviour.
His choice in a pious bride such as the Grand Mufti's Daughter is one met with both concern and resentment by most conservatives due to King's criminal association. King's notoriety was bought to the media after his trial and acquittal in the controversial shooting of Daughter of suspected Arms Dealer Abdel Salam Fayek in early 1999.
"This wedding is backed by political motivations by Mr.King to appear as an upstanding citizen in Egyptian Society, we find it offensive that religion be used for politcal gain and public acceptance" commented Islam el Tayeb assistant dean of el Azhar University for Shaira Affairs.
King's proponents declined to comment stating that such allegations should not even be dignified with an answer, however King's neighbour Simeon Parais was available for comment.
"Damien is a very lucky man, for it looks like he has found love."
Details for the wedding have not yet been disclosed, nor travel plans for the Honeymoon, however given Mr.King's general extravagance and his affection toward Las Vegas, social columnists have speculated with confidence that the now wed couple would most certainly be visiting the city.

Sophie Monet to reveal latest collection of Works in Townhouse Gallery:
Eccentric contemporary artist and influential socialite Sophie Monet has announced the display of her works at the Townhouse Gallery next week under the theme of "Diamonds & Dogs" . Bacca Royd the Townhouse Curator has commented saying that he is "very impressed with Monet's new collection, which still proves that Monet has alot to offer to the artistic community". Monet has received tremendous controversy after designing set pieces for the 2004 summer block buster " I am the Man" starring Menna Chawki and then rising star Adham Fares followed by the keen interest displayed by Senate member and minority party leader Jimmy Bonspiero who purchased one of her pieces at an auction for a whopping 650,000 LE, the piece was a clay sculpture of a naked lady chewing on what seems to be a grooms hand.

3 youngsters found shot dead on Arab League Boulevard: Police ward off suspicions of gang violence:
An idling car was found on the North side of Arab League Boulevard early this morning by a parking attendant receiving his shift. The Silver Daewoo Lanos contained the bodies of 2 youngsters in both front seats. The youngsters apparently died of multiple gunshot wounds. Police investigators rushed to the scene and after examination have managed to pick up 71 empty shell casings off the floor and around the car. the casings seem to be of high caliber suggesting the use of an automatic sub machine gun. A third body was discovered in the trunk of the car, wrapped in an Iranian silk rug, cause of death is still to be determined after performing the state appointed autopsy in the coroner's office. A half consumed cherry flavored "Chupa Chups" lollipop was also found at the scene.
Police officers at the Scene have declined to give official comment claiming that such comment would impede ongoing investigators and assured all business and residents of the Boulevard that the perpetrators will be bought to justice and that the locals need not fear for their safety.
A high ranking police official who wishes to remain anonymous has assured us that this incident is in no way gang related in an attempt to ward off suspicions that the area will once again be plagued by gang violence.
The Arab League Boulevard has historically been plagued in the past decade with ongoing gang violence between two rival gangs fighting for control over the South side of the Boulevard. However after continous Government crackdowns in recent years has led to the gradual dissapearance of such violence. The last reported incident was in August 2003 when random fire was sprayed over a local fast food restaurant after on a Thursday night where 7 people were killed and 12 were injured.

Quote of the Week

" Never think you are smart enough to figure out what is going on on the other side of the World, for you lack the awareness...

Never Think you have the Foresight to figure out what is going to happen tomorrow or even tonight...you lack the ability to grasp all the possible variables that may take place between now and then....

Don't fool yourself into knowing whats happening on the other side of town.... for its not your neighborhood...

You'd be kidding yourself to believe you know the events and thoughts being cooked up in the other room..for you can never know what goes on behind closed doors...

You can never tell what exactly is being said on the table to your right...for you lack respect of other people's privacy....

And most importantly...

Do not commit the unforgivable mistake of believing you can know, what goes on inside the mind of the person right in front of you..for you lack the ability to determine, which of the first five mistakes he is currently committing..."

Osiris Kane,

Signing off

5 Reasons why a Banker shouldnt Date a Lawyer

1- Lawyer receives phone call from banker on banker's lunch break:

"Hi Dear....how are you?"
" Im okay, stuck in the middle of traffic trying to reach a judge before he signs off for the day"
"shouldn't you be on a lunch break now? im having mine...and im eating a lovely salad..."
"Lunch break ? whaddya mean?...lol"
"anyways, i was calling to see if you wanna meet up tonight?"
"sure thing ill call you after work, at around 7"
" Honey, i finish at 3"
" ill call you at around 7"

Banker wonders what does Lawyer do all day, or is he just playing hard to get? i mean he is a lawyer.
They meet up at 8 for dinner..Lawyer is famished for not having any time to eat all day..

"Banker, what are you having?"
"Nothing, i had a salad for lunch?"
"So?"
" im full"
" what do you mean full? get this straight...you are a Banker, not a model...models would live on a salad for three days...you are a normal person with a normal job, so eat like normal people and stop acting anorexic..you think i find it appealing you have no appetite? what you dont get is......"

Lawyer is interrupted by his ringing phone, he takes the call and excuses himself from the table for privacy. Lawyer returns less than a minute later, picks up his personal effects
"I'm leaving, Duty calls..."
"What about dinner?"
"ill have a salad, itll make me full"


2- Banker is socializing with her co-workers, Debit, zippy and Dollars...

Dollars ( who is always seeking an opportunity to date banker) asks: Banker, i heard you are dating this lawyer...is he treating you nicely?

Banker:...its not of your concern Dollars,
Dollars: whaddya mean not of my concern, you are my friend, i am worried about you...you know what they say about lawyers..
Banker: well why dont you come to bed with us then and evaluate our sex life..maybe then you wouldnt be worried
Dollars: sheesh, take it easy ya 3azizi....i was only trying to be a friend...but you know what, i can tell from your attitude that you arent really loving the law hehehe....
Zippy: Dollars would you shut up?

Dollars leaves, and looks back with a confident smile, reflecting his satisfaction of getting under Banker's skin,

Zippy: Honey, is everything going well with him? cause if it isnt, you know that you can tell me...these lawyers can be tricky you know, dah gheer inni i heard that he is one sneaky sonnofabitch...

Banker: enough, thats my Boyfriend you are talking about okay? and so what if hes a lawyer? what is he going to con his own partner? why dont you ever look at it the other way round? hes a lawyer, he knows el 7arakat kollaha, hence, hes qualified enough to prevent any harm from coming my way,

Debit: maybe, but alot of them lie, how do you know he loves you for sure and isnt after your dads money?

Banker: have you seen him? do you know anything about him? fine then just simply shut up.
Zippy: Honey, we care about you...and we are worried
Banker: worried based on what? you have nothing...
Debit: He's a lawyer...thats worrisome enough

3- Lawyer is sitting in a police station, talking to a Cop friend, Cop asks him if hes planning on tying the knot soon, since hes done so good for himself in so little time,

Lawyer: no, not anytime soon
Cop: and you arent seeing anyone?
Lawyer: no, actually i am
Cop: a student?
Lawyer: Banker,
Cop: you sneaky mother!!! you, well if you are gonna run away with the money, please gimme a heads up and ill have clean passports for you, but i get a nice gift dont i?

4- "I met the Chairman today" exclaimed the banker.."and i think he likes my work...you are talking to a VIP now..i do work with the Chairman directly"
"Good for you," answered the Lawyer
"Thats all you have to say?"
"should there be something else i am saying?....sorry i dont get this whole i met the Chairman thing,"

"well yeah , i dont blame you cause you work in a cesspool of vice with cops and criminals, you dont know what the business world is like.."

"okay, the bank is big...very big but sorry, i met YOUR Chairman 3 times a week for 6 months of last year, and frankly i wasnt the least bit impressed."

"you did Work for our Chairman?"

"i didnt WORK FOR HIM, he wanted our advice, and wanted us to represent YOUR bank in business work ...the stuff that goes on in that world of yours that you claim i dont understand."

The next day, Banker walks into the bank all smiling and gleaming, she sees Dollars in her face, she chuckles knowing she couldnt be happier, for all she can think of is "My Boyfriend did work for the Chairman!"

5- "where were you last Friday, i called you 10 times..." demanded the banker
"Work"
"On a friday?"
" people still get arrested on Fridays too you know"
"Oh yes and thats why you went shopping for lingerie at Victorias Secret on that day"
It took him a minute to gather the evidence together...
"My Credit Card Records...you Bitch...thats private.."
" so is she better than me?"
" Banker, stop the drama will you?"
Banker hangs up..goes into her room crying, she falls onto her bed, only to realize she crushed something in the process...it was a black bag, with lingerie in it, and a card from him, saying something nice.. she felt like shit. Her mother opens the door, and tells her.. linda her best friend dropped it off this morning.

Where were you that day?: The Story of the Assassin & The Ladies of Liberty

"They'd always tell me we were good for one another, an inseperable duo, perfect teamwork, a symphony orchestrated with harmony when put to action"

"...i always doubted that.My main problem is i only think in terms of I, never in terms of We, so i dont care what We are, i am mostly preoccupied with what I are."


" ٍSo are you saying we should both go our seperate ways Josie?"
"No Kate, im not saying that out of cruelty, nor am i trying to belittle the times and great memories we had, nor the successes we acheived, but i think we are two different people who do what we do differently, im sure you will find someone to do things the way you like them to be done, and so will i ?"


"What do you mean? we have great chemistry!"

"No Kate...take Moscow, remember what happened there? we sucked, we made fools of ourselves, not only that but we almost got ourselves killed"

Kate took all the spoken words to heart, knowing not how to respond. What was being said was not only hurtful, but Kate knew that ending this partnership would be the end of her in this market. She can't pull her wieght without Josie as a Partner...

Their dream was finally over. she could kiss her career as a Liberty Lady goodbye. She sulked her way back to her car. stared at it and sized up the yellow sportscar as if evaluating whether she was chasing the right dreams or not. She could see Josie's reflection on the hood, then she was gone...Josie dissapeared.

Kate looked back only to find Josie dropped on the floor...in a pool of her own blood, emanating from a hole between her eyebrows...
she ran to Josie's Body....looked at her in awe...
"Its him she thought...Its Anubis"
She looked around, her eyes in frantic search to corroborate her conclusions...she finds the dark man staring from the rooftops...white as snow, yet darker than the night. grimacing at her in ridicule.

Three Hours Later:

There i was at a street corner cafe, patiently waiting for a business executive friend of mine i was supposed to meet up and make amends with. We sort of fell out a few years back, it was silly and i guess it was about time we sorted our issues out. i was sipping on some evening Earl Grey tea along with a stale croissant that looked like a deformed crab with severed legs...with the white cheese oozing out of it from the other side everytime i took a bite, i was wondering why did i come here in the first place.
I spotted my friend from across the street, he was enthusiastically waving at me in a way that bought attention. maybe a little too much attention. I guess i was lucky something else was about to happen that would get all the attention the street had to offer. remember this is mid afternoon, it shouldnt get more interesting than a guy in suit fumbling with white cheese oozing out of his croissant only to be warmly greeted by another executive from across the street.

Then...I saw him,
They say only a mere few on earth had the chance to make direct eye contact with him and walk away unscathed. He was on the far end of the street, sitting in the driver seat of a champagne colored sedan. Camera in hand and newspapers on dashboard. He was too far away to be spotted by anyone in the cafe, but the afternoon setting sun just reflected and bounced over the lens of his camera. Guess i was lucky, and guess it wasnt my day to die yet. In less than an instant of processing the image i was seeing, i could hear a sudden clatter of cups and saucers, along with cutlery landing on the floor behind me. My instinct told me to duck,
My curiousity told me to look behind me...
Kate emerges standing up as if she was buried alive under that table, and was struggling to grasp a breath of air that would restore her to life. In her hands, the shiniest M-16 i have ever seen in my life...and she starting firing.

Ill admit i love the sound of gunfire, be it coming from a block away or close enough to singe the hairs on my arms, but with my instincts on overdrive, i realized instantly that i was in the line of fire.

I cant remember how many bullets were fired. but it seemed like an eternity. I was face on the ground, ass elevated into the air in a failed attempt to shelter both my head and elbows under my knees. Im sure in any other situation i would have been the cause of a shower of giggles rather than ricochetting bullets and bouncing casings.
The smell of cordite dominated my nostrils, and the tire screeching did the same to my ears...all with a soundtrack of lead projectiles travelling faster than 330 meters per second, shot at intervals less than a second apart.

The moment i rise, feeling its safe enough to run like a chicken that just got its head wringed off by some mexican, i assess the situation to try to make of what happened.

Nothing, gone...
No Anubis,
No Kate....
I run over to my friend accross the street. only to find him riddled with bullets, choking on his own blood. I frantically yell for help while aimlessly shaking him to prevent the life from leaving him.

A few minutes later, he gasps in my arms...and utters his last testimonials, declaring No God but God, and Mohamed as his Prophet.

One Month later:
I'm sitting on the beach chair...right by the shore, reading Ibrahim Eissa's latest book, you can see a straw hut in the background, almost a hundred meters behind me, a hut ive called home for the past 27 days. Havent seen a single human apart from Manolo since. Manolo comes once a week by boat, with supplies to last me till he comes back again. he should be coming from the neighbouring port within the hour.
I hear the humming of an engine not so far away, it must be Manolo...i look to the horizon to find a little boat tugging at the waves. As Manolo approached in his boat, I noticed he had someone on board with him.Yes it was her...
not Kate...
someone else.
By the time Manolo docked on the shore, She was already at the foot of the beach chair, showering me with questions, while struggling with the sand sticking to her now wet shoes.
"Why did you leave?
Im here for you, we all are...
Why are you doing this to yourself?
Why are you doing this to those who care about you?
Do you think he is happy seeing you like this?
Are you okay?
Do you know how much i love you?
Will you let me take care of you?"
"Darling Im here for you" she reassured me...
I answered back,

"Where were you that day? Why didnt you stop the bullets? why didn't you operate on him to save him? why didn't you take him in your car to the hospital on time? why didnt you tell him not to walk on that side of the street? why did you allow Kate to have an M-16? why didnt you prevent her from shooting? why didnt that man die in another way? why did you let my friend die? what were you doing that day...answer me? you were sitting with your friends in college talking about how much i make you happy werent you?"

"Kane, what you are asking for...no human cant provide, i didnt stop the bullets, because im not superman, i didnt operate because im not a surgeon, i didnt take him in my car because i dont have one, i didnt warn him before hand because i do not see into the future, i didnt help because i am human..no human can do what you ask for..."

"Then i dont want to know any humans..."

"Honey, dont do this, dont spoil a good thing, you know what, we'll get through this, together. don't destroy a good thing...we're great for one another, we're an inseparable duo, a perfect team.."

What would my answer be?......

Four Months earlier we had a similar discussion, i was trying to break it off, because i felt i was burdened by her presence, i was going through a rough time, facing trouble at work that followed me home, and at the same time was expected to worry and live with her the burdens of daily college life, and her aspirations for graduating and becoming a career woman. I also asked her where was she that day?

I will always ask her...where were you that day?...

My Man! : The Tale of A Rat

“I smell a rat..”
“In the Year of the Rat a lot of Boys will Disappear..”

Regrettably enough, this conversation does not really take place in a sewer, although I would be curious enough to know what kind of conversations do really take place down there other than the choice of toppings Michelangelo ( the Ninja Turtle) would prefer on his Pizza.

It takes place in a Graveyard..

And no, the backdrop isn’t under the moonlight for added suspense, it is actually midday, and someone, amidst all his family, friends and business associates, is being buried..

There truly isn’t anything more eventful than the funeral of a head of a family, who refused to name an heir.
Reasons withheld, one can assume not naming a successor maybe due to an inherent fear of being responsible for such an heir after his own passing, others can say mistrust, or merely downright incompetence of those who walked in the old man’s shadows.
My humble opinion is merely:

Mischief

Seriously, what a better way to eternalize your deeds than to create a vacuum that will lead to a struggle for power, with blood, tears, drama and money as fodder for many years to come? Eventually order will replace chaos. It’s a constant, it always has been, and a lot of blood every now and then is always healthy. That’s probably what he was thinking before he croaked.

The Departed is Paternally succeeded by two sons, Big Al “Doughboy” Bonspiero, and

Little Jimmy “Two shoes” Bonspiero.
His Consigliere was Sal “Shush” Spatafore, a very loyal advisor, always in the shadows and meant business.

If succession stayed in the family, it wouldn’t leave either of the three, but the pie is too big to stay in the family. There was the Gaddi crew, headed by Alfie Mancuso and Michael Zitti. Your local selection of business men that although aren’t really organized had enough with being muscled to do business, your small time dope dealers and street corner pimps who although ambitious are stupid enough to think they can fill big shoes like that, and believe it or not, you should be bothered by smalltime, cause smalltime not only has nothing to lose, they don’t know the rules, so they might end up doing something stupid. Of course 90% of the time anyone who does something stupid ends up getting clipped, or even worse.. but it’s the 10% that should bother any wise guy with eyes on the future.

Then, you had the Campus Street boys, four stupid kids that met up daily at Mama Afi’s house , she used to bake brownies for all the kids in the niehgbourhood and tell em stories of the good old days, and feeding their head with garbage about how they can change the world. Mama Afi had two favorites, Alfie “the Nigger” Leotardo and Sammy “Quasi” George.

“Quasi”, pronounced “Kwazeeh” is a real stand up kid, but his only problem is he doesn’t look the part, he practically has no neck, and is a developing an immature hunch on his back, just like Quasimodo, his other problem is he loves attention, he’ll practically offer you his wife in bed if you take em out to the bars and give em a good time. He’s only married to her cause mama said so. Quasi’s dad is into business, he’s actually one of the locals who wants to see this all go away, imagine how he felt when he found out his kid is into this thing of ours.

Leotardo wasn’t a nigger. His complexion was very dark they used to joke that his mother used to fool around in Harlem, his dad got so worried he actually DNA tested poor little Alfie, but turns out he’s his.

Alfie had a cousin , Calvin “See See” Corrado, they called him See See cause he used to be a peeping tom, and it’s a play on his initials which were C.C.
See See was one naughty mamas boy, I mean he was a good lookin fella, and was all about the ladies. although younger than the Nigger, the Nigger used to look up to him bigtime, he had the Nigger wrapped around his finger.

The Fourth of the bunch was “Little” Willy Gaultieri…you can tell why they call him little Willy, ill give u a hint, the name was coined up in the locker room after gym class.
He’s probably the smartest in all of them, but could use a little guts, I mean the fella is a Gaultieri for God’s sakes, what the hell is he afraid of. Gaultieri and See See actually started off having beef, Gaultieri was dating some woman See See was banging, See See couldn’t hear of it, but now although they mended and got rid of the bad blood, See See still scares the shit outta Little Willy.

And if all these Wiseguys weren’t enough for you, you had the Feds watching down on all of this, wanting to get rid of it all.

A smart question to ask is, where do I stand in all of this, well initially I’m supposed to be working with Big Al Bonspiero, am I loyal to him? Yes but he’s actually taken me on loan from Spatafore’s crew, still in the same family but they are of different strokes.

Big Al was always the old man’s favorite, he was smart, silent about it and he believed that everyone should earn as long as the powers that be get to wet their beak, if Al takes over its going to be good for everyone, as long as Al gets a cut, very small but still a cut.

Sal the “Shush” does things a little differently, he’s old fashioned, not only that, but he’s a Calabrese (Calabrian)…those guys have hot blood and are downright vicious. Sal would have a tighter hold on everything, and keep it more incognito, if anyone is loud about it, well..hard luck for them, he don’t appreciate noise very much.

Then…you have Two Shoes Bonspiero… this kid went to private school, Ivy league education, the works hes the golden child, the old man’s favorite, and a few years before the old man went away, was being groomed. Now I wouldn’t want to diss the Don on this, but this guy is gonna bring it all down to the ground and turn our thing legit. I mean hes not even made and already rumored to be talking with the Feds. He’s also tapped the Campus Street Boys, who really think hes hot stuff, well apart from Quasi, who thinks he’s not cut out for our thing.

You wanna anticipate this power struggle right , you gotta put the Gaddi crew into the equation. They got ties to the church, and have become really popular nowadays, they get money from the church and skimming off the Sunday donations, they actually sue people that owe them money, that’s their method of enforcement. They claim that violence is below them, hey nobody loves beating a fellow Pisan’s teeth in, but a mans gotta make a livin don’t he?

Everyone was there at the funeral, all dressed in their suits, some hid behind sunglasses, while others did under hats. What people don’t get, you only get to wear a hat if you are made, made as in you are directly taxed by the Big Boys back home. And there was See See in a black Cuban and a smirk looking all dolled up like a fuckin lady.
Spatafore gave him shit for it:

“he headed to a costume party afterwards?... Lemme guess ees going as a fuckin fairy aint he?”
His Goombas provided chuckles of laughter for a finale. I was glad that others shared my exact sentiment. Then one of them utters..
“Can you imagine the fucking balls on that kid, boss? I mean eee goes over to the North side, earning on them wall street types charging them bucketloads of vig…the greedy motherfucker, I mean im calling my stockbroker, and after he advises me on some short selling stunt , he asks me do I know fuckin See See Corrado,….Know em? I used to date his fuckin mudda back in high school…hehehehe”
Spatafore answers back with his few words:
“let the little kid earn..with time, he’ll learn”
“yeah but he should respect his elders, and learn without having to spend a stint in college” interrupted Big Al.

“ The Beauty of the Pecking Order Al, is that it’s a system, the kid is bothering us, hes causing too much trouble, should we act? If hes that loud he’ll probably step on someones toes powerful enough to do something about it, so why get our hands dirty when someone else can do the job for us? Or he could just get pinched, picked up by the Feds, or even offed by one of his bitter Goomahs.. as long as it aint our toes he aint stepping on, he can go Fatillia Cosi!”

“well it depends on what exactly do you call stepping Sal, remember King?”
“fuckin aaay…”
“yeah the one who helped us out with the Maltese..”
“what about em…?”

“Turns out the little Gaultieri kid, the one who shits his pants whenever u mention his fuckin goomah..sent King a little message, nothing fancy…but still a message, Fuckin K is in the middle of his honeymoon and a couple of little Willy’s boys shake em down cause hes on their turf…King tells em hes a friend of yours Willy’s boys tell em we heard no nothing bout a friend of Doughboy’s coming down here…King just gave dem what he had…”
“What did they take”
“Kings Gold Watch…and keys to a brand new SUV..not only that, but King told me somethin about little Willy too…little Willy is been crying to a fuckin psychiatrist about takin too much pressure wid business, King used to bang the psychiatrist Willy is seein..she wanted to show off to King tellin em shes analyzing a fuckin Don so he fuckin put two and two together…
“King could just be beefin up against the little guy..”
“ It gets worse…the Psychiatrist, you know who she banging now? A fuckin Fed… now I didn’t leave it at that, I mean King is a friend of ours he’s not only a friend of yours.. so I followed the fuck around for Kings sake, turns out the Fed..he’s the same fuck that busted Johnny Sacks from Jersey”

I couldn’t contain myself and crossed the yard to where the Campus Street Boys were paying their respects to Jimmy Two Shoes, they were literally glued to the guy better than his own shadow. They were bragging as to how cool it was to be extorting the stockbrokers, giving the money to Jimmy who then invests it with the Stockbrokers themselves.

See See: you know Jimmy, this last week, little Willy got you a hell of a cool present..
Two Shoes: really?
Little Willy: yeah a Lincoln Navigator..
Two Shoes: is it Hot?
Little Willy: Nah, belonged to some guy who claims to know your brother.. some hotshot called King..
Two Shoes: Damien King?....aww you assholes, what you think you are doing? Do you have any fucking idea who’s car you just stole?
Little Willy: who, he didn’t put that much of a fight
Two Shoes : yes, cause he’ll get it the fuck back , with your heads as hood ornaments on it too!, what the fuck were you guys doing in history class…you never heard of Damien King?...
See See: yeah I heard of him, actually messed with him once, he didn’t do nothing, he was trying to fuck this bitch from Iran I was doing…I told em to go fuck himself…he’s a fucking pussy

Jimmy Slaps See See on the head in the middle of his Father’s funeral..it was a scene.. See See’s hat fell to the ground, he picked it up, swallowed the lump in his throat, and sat under a tree.. turns out that bitch from Iran was doing both See See and the Nigger in the same time. She duped them both outta some quick cash and went onto work some bigger fish..What See See , The Nigger nor King himself didn’t know was that she Worked Jimmy too…

King took care of the problem, King did like he was told…Jimmy called him, asked him to take care of it, and King did it, no questions asked.. that’s why everyone like Sal, Al, the Gaddis , they all love King…even the Feds don’t ask questions when King is involved.. he’s helped them with some stuff too..

I wanted to make sure See See and little Willy get the big picture..

“Boys, you messed up big time…gimme a call if u need help and lemme see what I can do…”


A few days later, I pick up my phone..its Willy..he wants to talk…
I meet him at their spot..its an old café right in front of campus..he tells me how Sal had a talk with them in the presence of Jimmy…they will have to give restitution to King for the Car, and submit to his mercy..Sal has orders from back home to get rid of both See See and little Willy, See See is refusing the solution and throwing it all on Willy..

“ I’m thinking of blaming it all on Jimmy..since he’s got our backs..he’s too big to take a fall”
“That is not a very wise thing to do..theyre all fixing you to fall..even See See..”
“why?”

I gave him the shock of his life…

“Your Goomah and See See still meet up…she has a soft spot for him”
“See See is fixing me to take the fall?”
“look Jimmy is all too big…you think hes going to give a rats ass about how much you guys make him with that stockbroker scam?..hes not gonna fall for a couple of Assholes like you..they’re already painting you as the rat Willy..”

“What the fuck are you talking about…”
“They know about the Shrink…and Johnny Sacks”

Willy if I were you..its a good year for you and the rest of the Boys…to run..
Get lost..be the Lost Boys...Run ,Willy run!..it’s the Year of the Rat Willy.. and in the Year of the Rat…a lot of Boys will Disappear..


The events that unraveled the next few days indicated a lot…the drums of war can be heard..
- Damien King said he wont take restitution, as for the Lost Boys..they can take whatever they made off King and shove it up their asses..at least they die loaded…
- Willy stood his ground, didn’t run..
- The Nigger hid at his in-laws house,
- See See went to the mattresses, said he aint going down without a fight,
- Sal is blaming the whole mess on Jimmy for making the little boys play in the wrong league,
Jimmy is disavowing any ties to the little boys, however is provoked by Sal
- Big Al…is sitting there, waiting for the winning side to join…

As for me, well I went back to the office, with a cup of coffee in my hand, to the same monotonous ringtone on the office phone, and the same secretary I have had in ages uttering the same scentence every time she picks up…

“FBI RICO Task Force, Good Afternoon how may I help you”

Reflections from the Pacific Rim

Day One , 19:45 - Changi Airport - Singapore

its already dark, i hate arriving to a place i've never been to before when its dark. Well actually it isn't that bad, it just makes me anticipate what it looks like in the morning more. You can tell i really am not in a mood to tolerate anticipation. Why? well, for starters im a stranger in a strange land, first destination in four destinations, supposed to be taking care of someone who needs alot of care that deep down inside of me i feel inadequate to provide. Yet everyone else thinks otherwise. I'm not freaking out, seriously i barely know the language actually i don't know a word of it, nor the culture and for Gods sakes I've never been here before, he has...but not me talk about pressure. Anyways, hes supposed to be checking in on his babies ( Investments but he just treats them like babies) and wants "someone" to spot the saboteurs who might get ideas, so for the duration of this trip i am supposed to be Mr. Saboteur Spotter, lol if he only knew.
If he only knew how i feel right now,

So we are in a Taxi headed to the hotel in Downtown Core and he is calling his wife and asking about the kids making sure his 10 year old did well in his Karate tournament (you have to give the guy credit for trying)

"Oh really?....Whats his name?"
He snaps his fingers at me, gesturing to write down what he is about to say...
" Michael Davids.....okay how old is he? 24.....where does he work? Michael what Davids?........any relation to Andrew Davids ? ...So that's all you have,........... Honey i barely have the time to sit down and talk...so just tell me here and now......[ long pause accompanied with steady nodding and "ah hahs"] Okay ill run this through...find out more, She just doesn't see him till we find out who he is and where is he from, okay? talk to you later honey, bye...."

He hangs up and looks to me, telling me how family is the most important investment you have to watch and do all you can to make it perfect.

"It's what really counts in the end Kane, better achievement than any other Investment,"
"Do they know?"
"Of course not, they wouldn't want to know... so i keep it that way.......i know that might sound irregular...but shop stays in shop...no matter how acceptable or unacceptable shop happens to be...so did you take down the info i gave you? give it to that really good guy you have at your firm...what was his name again?"
"Sam"

"yes Sam...but nothing fancy...this guy might be proposing to my daughter...im trying to get a heads up on him...they've been seeing each other for a while now...Gosh she's really grown"

Day One , 23:18 - 7th floor Room 0715 - Fullerton Hotel - Singapore

With a nice harbor view from my room overlooking the Marina Bay...i sit on my laptop to check my emails. Paranoid Investor man called it an early night, normally that would be the opportunity to check out the local nightlife, but I'm glad i didn't. I checked my Business email and got a daily report from Charlene, my Secretary back in Cairo...turns out the case i handled for Mr. Streak ( check out Welcome to The Woods Where the things have no Name for further info about Mr. Streak) had a verdict issued, in favor of his two young kids...so yes we lost...another one lost in the never ending battle between the old guard and the new republic...we are in the age where the young vanquish the old, regardless of how much wisdom or virtue the elderly may posses, they just had their times and should make room for the youngsters. Why should I be complaining I'm a youngster, I'm on the winning team? anyways that's not the point. I check my hotmail account to find a truly unexpected email from someone that hurt me not so long ago. I thought i was the only one still drowning in the sadness. She is too strong and vicious to still be thinking about me and what happened, She probably must have wrote it while Drunk....

"Dear Kane, i know we havent been talking, and last time we did wasnt all that...but you have to know that it is you who made this fail not me, i tolerated your lying and cheating and just acted as if i didnt know...you have to feel guilty for ruining the best thing that has happened to me
You Suck
Susie "

All i can think of while reading this is how much booze did she need in her system to conjure up emailing me... and i just love the logic and how the facts all go blurring to everyone's liking when consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Well come on, lets be frank i should have saw it coming, instead i preferred to sucker myself into believing all the nice stuff she said and did were truly genuine and free from any hidden agendas. I wouldn't doubt if all her other conquests received a similar email with similar tones. Well give her the credit that it wasn't a forward to all of us...

Day Three , 00:37 M Bar- Mandarin Oriental Hotel - Central - Hong Kong - PRC

In the midst of the medium level house/lounge music that makes you wanna shake your not so perfectly formed booty hidden under a pair of tailored pinstriped pants courtesy of George Singer ( yeah i dig local tailors) between in-house prostitutes and business executives and Rogue PRC Generals, Paranoid Investor tells me how we will prolong our stay and head off to Macau, since he is being sweet talked by a Vegas Casino to join them in a venture there. He is just worried that Macau is known as the easiest place for Whales to flush Casinos out...that's why most Casinos there focus on anything but "Gambling" . they go all out on Escort Services, Clubs, Golf Courses...they're trying to wheel in the small fish rather than the Whales and High Rollers.

"But doesn't the house always win?" i ask sheepishly
"Not if you are Yip Honn"
" Yipp Honn The Whale?"
"Not only is he a Whale...all the Casinos consult him and he trains the pit bosses on how Whales work the Casino...he even partnered up in a Casino in Macau...ever heard of the Lisboa? the Biggest Casino in Macau?...he partnered in it, i mean imagine..1970 a Casino only 60km away from Hong Kong..you can take a ferry over, and sleep over i mean the hotel had 1,000 rooms damnit. too bad the guy's dead now....anyways..Stanley Ho is going to open up the Grand Lisboa, a beefed up version of their old venture...him and Honn, he's looking for an investor, someone to come up with foreign money so that they get the foreign investor treatment. he even has Henry Fok pulling all the strings for them back on the mainland..hes slowing the Sands down, and Trump is too focused on real estate in the middle east now to be closing in on Macau... so where meeting Ho tomorrow...actually today, we already are tomorrow..i'm drunk arent i?"

"that would be putting it lightly"
"DAMN i love you Kane...always the right man for the job,.... so did Sam call back on that guy who wants to fuck my daughter?"
"are you sure he hasnt already done that?"
"good point, tell Sam he's getting double, i want a head start over Daughter Fucker...

Am i really the right man for the job? i rest my case....

I call it an early night to do some research on all the Ho's Yips and Foks we're supposed to meet in Macau, what kind of research can you do at 1am in Hong Kong? well there's the internet, and hey its still the acceptable evening in Europe and Back home. I call Sam up and tell him to call all cars on "Daughter Fucker" . Afterwards I call Rankin Fitch who i was introduced to by Mr.Adham ( See Amnesia )

"Kane Boy, whereabouts in the world are you?"
"Hong Kong Mr.Fitch...its made for a man like you"
"Don't really think so...theyre all short with slanted eyes...it scares me, ill stick to the Caucasian variety what do you want I'm in the middle of a fitting for a Tux"
"Information...."
"About?"
"Stanley Ho, Henry Fok and Sociedade de Turismo e Diversoes de Macau held by The Shun Tak Group"
"call my office, ask for Janovich, ill let him know you will be calling"


I then reflect on what Paranoid Investor said about me being the right man for the Job, practically what this means is he needs me, his well being cannot go about without my contribution regardless how little that contribution might be. My thoughts are interrupted by my hotel room phone ringing, its the concierge...Paranoid Investor seems to have had a run in with the law, a serious one, should've expected it...he was too shit-faced to stay outta trouble.

Despite my limited knowledge of Hong Kong Law, crimes seem to be universal, and hence universal also is the way states deal with them. Paranoid Investor finally slept in his hotel bed rather than on the floor of a prison cell, thanks to my efforts, a lot of luck and a little money.

Day Three, 14:02 Clipper Lounge - Mandarin Oriental Hotel - Central - Hong Kong - PRC

While reviewing the fax sent by Janovich ( Fitch's hatchet man) over afternoon tea, Paranoid investor walks in ...and sits down, he looks hungover like hell, and although grateful for my endeavor of last night was overtly ashamed. He's wondering whether or not im going to judge him for it. "come on, at least now you can say you know what it feels like to wear a Chinese prostitute's bra.." he laughs about it...temporarily reassured but then you can tell he isn't..
"none of this to my wife...you hear?...not my wife , not anyone in your firm...nothing..."
"i think you mean nobody..."

what he and a lot of other people don't get is that...we [ professional lawyers] don't judge..we don't even create opinions on you...we just observe, and react...our agenda being, securing your interests...cause if we really acted based on what we really think of you then we'd suck at doing what we do...or we would be horrible people, and honestly...we aren't paid to think of you... What he and a lot of other people also don't get is we already know all your dirt before we take you on as a client, we know what you are capable of, your favorite foods...that silly action figure you shoplifted when you were 12, that year when you didn't file for taxes and we Goddamn know why..., we know where you were and what you were really doing when you were lying your ass off to your wife all those nights claiming you were working and you really were doing someone else, but we aren't neither stupid or cocky enough to let you know we know...its a lot safer for us when you think you are in control...its an illusion...an illusion we create...so that we become better at what we do and get your ass out of the sticky situations your ego and your money get you into.

"Any news on Daughter Fucker?"
"actually yes, Sam came up with a lot...his name is Michael Anthony Davids born August 12th 1983...graduate Cairo University Faculty of Law Class of 2005.. is a Junior Associate at Inglewood & Danjac a corporate services firm...lives in Heliopolis...clean record..only a misdemeanor for assault, it was a bar-fight he got into... Son of Anthony Davids... Factory manager and Janice George housewife...congregates with a close knit group of friends..classmates from school, list of known associates, frequented establishments, no spouses...and oh...he has been seeing your daughter for a while"
"Lawyer huh..."
"legal consultant actually"
"were you classmates?"
"no, can't say the name rings a bell...I was before his time"

We discuss the particulars of what Janovich came up with..., i tell them all there is to know about Stanely Ho's known and not so known History..., the investments hes been in , the whole lot. i also came up with some research as to how ventures come about, regulations governing foreign investors..Paranoid will be considered a foreign investor..limits to partnership...we gotta go in prepared. I told him his exit options didn't look nice unless you allow Ho to buy you out..he took a point of it. but was he really listening?

before boarding the Ferry to Macau, i went up to my room to get cleaned up and wasted some time online on MSN with a friend. She constantly complains about long working hours, she works in advertising. She doesnt seem to get how her boss thinks... if she puts up with the long hours her Boss throws in her face, its going to be the usual. its taking a toll on her life, livelihood and even her health. She tells me thats just the way it is in advertising, im not trying to belittle what she does in any way, but she does it with passion as if shes curing cancer, when at the end of the day its nothing more than emailing, preparing presentations, color correction and dealing with other people who slack and dont have to report to the deadlines that she has to. i respect the passion she has for what she does, i wish i could have the same passion about helping investors put their money in something that has broken hundreds of homes such as gambling, or saving arbitrary detainees from a certain doom of police brutality...or passionate about saving some guy's future from the hands of an abusive company ( like my friends who is ribbed long working hours) or save my unfortunate high school classmate from killing his mom and chopping her up to put her in the freezer. or fighting off a drug company who has a tendency of dumping its industrial waste in the Nile ( a water source for millions) I wish i could be passionate about telling the hundreds of people i have already told that they live in a system that claims they have rights but its the system itself that infringes their very rights. I wish i could be passionate about looking a woman in the eye and telling her that the man who raped her is most probably going to get away with it because she was too overwhelmed to undergo forensic examination within 36 hours of the attack, I wish i could be passionate about telling an old man that it is the government that killed his son and there is nothing he can do about it... I wish i could be passionate about telling every political activist i meet that whatever they do wont change a thing, that anything save taking up arms is merely futile....i wish i could be passionate about preserving the status quo and making money out of that...why the money? what did i do to deserve it? its hush money nothing more, we pay you as grievance for the shit you just have to see..? is it much? well i hope so...i mean if my friend at advertising makes more money than i do, who do you think is better off...blind and rich? or aware and poor?...why didn't i work in advertising? maybe then i wouldn't have the time to think about all this trivial garb...id be spending my entire day sending emails and doing color corrections, meetings, and presentations...

Day Three, 22:27 , Xanadu Lounge - Sands Macaou - Macau- PRC

okay, i hate to be cynical, but what kind of people discuss building a casino, in a rival casino? well okay this Stanely Ho guy has his hands in all gaming in Macau..but i mean why not go at the Lisboa...? turns out his daughter Josie Ho is a renowned pop singer and actress, and she has a number at the Xanadu lounge in a competitors Casino...( Ho also has an invisible stake at the Sands, so its kinda okay) but it was more of a mental note to add to all the notes that tell me that i really am way over my head with all these people. the meeting was the usual flaunt with some business on the side...a few courses and lots of drinks later, Paranoid Investor excuses himself to make a phone call outside in the corridor. Im approached by the singer's half sister and CEO of STDM Pansy Ho and she asks me what are my clients main investment concern, in addition to a failed attempt on her part to assess his solvency... i try to be as courteous as possible telling her he would be more qualified to answer that and seeing her time is of the essence i will go fetch him for her from the corridor. The moment i enter the corridor...i see him almost 20 meters away...all worked up, i can tell even though he is giving me his back...but you can tell from the tone of his voice...i heard it right there, clear as crystal in my own native tounge;


هي حصلت نتناسب من محامين؟

Day Four 23:30, Room 1228 - Park Hyatt Tokyo, Nishi Shinjuku - Tokyo- Japan

Trying as much as possible to retain professionalism after i heard what i heard. Hey i am human, i am entitled to be offended. but why am i not surprised? it happened to me before when i wanted to apply for a loan to get my first car the banks told me they don't lend lawyers, like we are some undesirables that dont meet the bar of people they would want to deal with, then this Paranoid Investor thinks working as a lawyer is good enough a reason to not marry his daughter off to someone, they have lawyer jokes, but not engineer jokes or banker jokes...its just us and accountants, and accountants get off easy...although it was accountants that were behind Enron...BCCI and in every embezzlement, theres always an accountant.

Seriously, are lawyers all that bad? you tell us about stuff you're ashamed of admitting to anyone else, we help you in your time of need, we don't judge you , like i said before we don't even create an impression about you, we tell you what to do and Goddamn it we help you with it we probably are the only people who get you results, your IT expert blames it on a bug, or requires you to download an undownloadable upgrade, your doctor cant give you a conclusive yes or no, your physical trainer blames it on your willpower, your parents blame you and your generation, your children blame you on how you bought them up, your friends blame you on not taking their advice, your Shaikh blames it on your lack of Faith, your boss blames it on your lack of professionalism..we, well we just make it disappear.
You turn to us when there's nobody else to turn to, we make it all go away like it was a bad dream, we help you use the system to get what you deserve, we clean up the mess YOU made, and you go about your life once more stronger than before and with more faith in your capabilities to either bring about prosperity or havoc. we advise you on every little tid bit, at any time of the Goddamn day, we dont have you check in with us first thing in the morning, or when the weekend is over, we help you fight corruption, discrimination, injustice and all the other ills of mankind, we enrich your knowledge on things you should've originally taken to heart, we help solve the unsolvable, maybe even touch you in the most irrelevant of ways but turn you into a better human being.
We protect you, even from your own self...
We help you have that perfect life of yours despite your imperfections, we are tempted to obliterate your peaceful existence at every moment cause we can... but we don't.. because we take our privilege responsibly.
And then,

We aren't good enough for you?


Who is good enough for you if we aren't?

I mean is everyone else so clean and squeaky? no Contractors that cut costs and buildings fall? no business men that runoff with other peoples money? no Doctors that forget instruments and towels in the guts of patients? no cops that beat up suspects and deny due process? no politicians that philander? no Bankers that run off with the loose change? no drug companies that come up with the disease before the cure ? no marketeers that convince you with a product you don't need and having you save up and work your ass off to buy it? and only when you do another new and improved one comes up that makes the old one look like shit? no sales men conning you into buying things you don't need? or you end up buying something that you never really wanted ? no stockbrokers that make you put all your life savings into a worthless shares only for them to rise up and the stockbroker piggybacks on your investment? no importers that dump the market with unsafe and cheap products? no steel magnates monopolizing local and foreign markets? no petroleum companies that influence governments to wage wars against inferior nations so that they can get more off-take agreements and exploit more natural resources? don't get me started.

All job types have all walks of life...both the crooked and the decent, the crooked will always be crooked, even if he's a Priest in Boston, the decent, will always be decent, even if hes a lawyer in Cairo who happens to be contemplating sanity on 50th floor of the second tallest skyscraper in Tokyo.

Ditched!

No thats not the latest name of a new fragrance from Dior, although i think they should come up with one along the same lines. Let's face it...how many girls go through that phase and need to feel better about themselves, how many times does the same girl go through this in her one solitary life? maybe once, maybe never , maybe all the time...either way, to overcome it she

should feel good about herself, experience her self worth. Smelling nice is definetly a part of that.

Scents and Fragrances aside, its natural to villify the culprit ( in this case the Ditching Dork), it brings a sense of closure. Victimization always helps and is natural in the healing process against Trauma, but why do girls still hang on? why do they have this glimmer of hope that things -if we try hard enough- will be just like they were?

Girl get over it, HE DITCHED you...ignore the phone, he wont send a message to try to win you back.

But Kane, he didnt give me a good enough reason why we cant be together...

Even better a reason for you to understand that he really doesnt want you....so why are you chasing after him? why are you waiting for that call that he will never make? why are you thinking about him all the time? why are you thinking of him at the times you should be thinking of someone else...face it, you are out on a date with this dream guy your best friend has been dying to fix you up with for ages, you reluctantly go for it beleiving you should move on. The guy is keen and most certainly interested, you can tell he is putting in alot of effort. When you size him up hes a keeper, Smart, Successful , Neat, Composed, Nice Watch, Nicer Shoes, cool smile, ambitious, makes a few jokes here and there...but everything he does, no matter how original, no matter how nice , no matter how flattering just leads you to the exact same thought...

"Old Guy would have done it better"

Why do you do that? why do you think that? why does he have dibs on you when it comes to relationships, hes ditched you hence a) he doesnt deserve to have dibs, and most importantly b) he obviously doesnt care...if he cared he wouldn't have ditched you in the first place. Why do you leave everything you are doing, and give him your complete and undivided attention the moment he makes contact? even if you are at a Party and supposed to have the time of your life...theres this hunk whos into you...and has been dying to wait for the perfect oppertunity for you to be available...the time is now...and hes much better than the old guy...you are supposed to be having the time of your life with someone who really cares, and is obviously into you..then old guy sends a message...

your thoughts just shift into another dominion..

the memories fly back, you are drowned in all the good times you had...and how great it felt...and how sweet and considerate it is of him to send you something...do you think he wants me back ?

erm excuse me...what about that great guy right there sitting on the table, waiting for you...hes been dreaming of you for quite a while...has the thought ever occurred to you that maybe with him you can start something so good that could actually make you forget old guy and merely chuckle at his mention?

Old guy is long gone, face it he ditched you...he must have had a good reason, if he doesnt...then that in itself is good enough a reason..i mean, he ditched you now for no good a reason, what would stop him from ditching you later on?

New guy is here to stay, he thought of you even when you were occupied, he waited for the right moment to step in, when you were available once more...not only did he respect the disrespectful old guy by not moving in on him but he also respected your decision to stay with the jerk...even though it was a wrond decision and he totally disagreed with it...yet here you are in the corner of the club...holding your phone wondering what to text back to Old guy...whos definetly just bored...and having some fun at your expense..and you know it!!! yet you come up with excuses for a guy who is not even coming up with excuses for himself..look back at the table...there is a guy...who is waiting to give you all you ever wanted, and probably all what the old guy didnt give you..

Bottom line

Dont text back, close the phone get back to your table and start small talk with the guy that maybe might be the face you wake up to for a good ten years...

This Post is Dedicated to three girls i know well..they've all been ditched recently ...they

know my faith in them to overcome their old guys is well placed. ;)

The Bedtime Storyteller

So i was in Stara Zagora - a provincial town in Bulgaria- for two days doing nothing but waiting. sometimes its all you need to clear your head and sit down and have a nice conversation with your overcrowded thoughts, which as you can tell...did happen. I also felt a little poetic ( hey you cant blame me...Stara Zagora is known for its poets) and realized how alot of people forget about alot of things that were integral back in the day but now just...i dont know, Blahze maybe?

How many people do you know were told bedtime stories as children? did it make them better children in comparison to the people you know who werent told bedtime stories? what kind of stories were they told? ones that stimulate their imagination? something to wrap them in a blanket of fantasy just before they let loose with all their crazy and movie worthy dreams? or were they merely repeated legends passed down from generation to generation to create tradition and cultural heritage? or were they simply anecdotes that teach you a few primitive lessons about life...( i mean they have to be primitive...you cant really tell kids bedtime stories about money, drugs and political interests as a child...i guess if you want to you would have to settle for a 90's version of the emperor's new clothes)

Nevertheless, Bedtime Storytelling is becoming close to extinct in our ever speed shifting excuse of a life...my cousin has 2 kids...but never the time nor energy to tell them stories of flying boys in green who refuse to grow up...or little blonde girls in blue and white who take too many pills and end up talking to doorknobs and have tea with fluffy animals and crazy card players...

so instead...he brings them limited edition DVDs of Alice in Wonderland, and Peter Pan for them to play on their LCD screen on a mantle...where probably previous generations either had a family portrait or bookshelf.

I have nothing against my cousin...he is not a bad parent, i have nothing against the choice of upbringing he has for his children...i have everything against the world that compells him to make such a choice.

My parents stopped telling me bedtime stories when i was old enough to read..they didnt want me to be dependent. fair enough, but frankly im sure i missed out on alot...cause i look at my sister...who had me to tell her all the bedtime stories she wanted to hear, and i look at myself. Her imagination is even wilder than mine..(some might think that is impossible but trust me shes got the better half of that) okay, okay, ill give myself the credit for a change and admit that i'd come up with most of the stories on the spot right there. She'd always predict a great storytelling future for me, be it in the form of a writer, actor, journalist, director...or maybe even stand up comedian ( but i tried that back in 2004 and ended up making a fool of myself infront of a crowd of 400+ and some nomads) even a lawyer is a form of storytelling ( very convincing storytelling might i add)

So anyways back to Stara Zagora...i was bored out of my head and decided to take a walk. it is quite a small city...but rather sunny for a European city especially since this is November people...we are talking close to sub zero temperatures...( guess this is just practice for the time ill spend in Siberia). So im walking around town and theres this little pavement cafe to next to what could be called the town centre...i notice this old man, very prissy ...in a nice off-white/ beige suit...hat matching scarf and everything, covering it up with a nice navy blue coat..he was drinking tea i guess, and was totally into the book he was reading..minding his own business, i mean even if a Ferrari zoomed by and crashed into a Hummer...in the middle of this nowhere town which probably is not home to niether car...add to that its not one of those passing through towns either, he wouldnt budge...not even flinch...

thats how much he was into whatever he was reading.

I pass him...and without lifting his eyes out of the book in a typical eastern european accent says:

"Sit down, i will be with you in a minute"

to my exclamation i was finally glad to meet someone who doesnt talk Bulgarian...but who the hell is this person and what does he want with me.

My curiousity getting the best of me told me to sit down, which i did.

"do you have good bedtime stories" he asked

"no but give me one and i will tell it quite nicely" i found myself answering back.

"Whatever happened to your imagination Roger?"

"My name isn't Roger...im afraid you have the wrong person sir.."

"if you were the wrong person, i wouldnt have you sitting down on the same table i am seated on and wouldnt be asking about the deterioration of your skill to conjure up fiction for sheer entertainment"

I decide to play along,

"Okay, you have me there...i am Roger, i was only playing"

"well, remember your sister Roger? the one you used to tell stories?...Mischa?"

"yes i do"

"where is she now Roger? where is she?"

"erm...last time i checked she was eaten by a trio of Lithuanian mercenaries, and very properly digested..i recall examining their shit a few days later..to find my sisters teeth in it...just like chunks of corn only white..and shiny"

"oh now that is truly dreadful roger...well ill get to the point..."

"please do..."

"i have a daughter...she's dying, the only thing that would make her better is if you can tell her a bedtime story. come to the castle on the hill tomorrow...tell her a Bedtime Story and be on your way.."

As night falls...i trod up the hill to reach the isolated Castle on the outskirts of town. I wonder to myself why is it that most Castles i have visited, if inhabited are always visited at night? the only conclusion i came to is -Castle or no Castle- most of your visits to anyone are at night...

Nobody listens to Bedtime Stories in the morning, even if before an afternoon nap...everyone is too entrenched and engulfed in the lies they live in the morning only to show their true colors at night? or is it the other way round? well its relative, and i think that is me trying to be a tad bit too philosophical...i should stick to what im good at....

Bedtime Stories.

I reach the Castle's entrance...not your scary looming structure that freaks the hell out of you when a flash of lightning lights up the sky in a sudden and unexpected burst...its just a nice Big and grand stone structure...with a little ivy growing in the cracks..the driveway is paved a dark and opaque marble...there are two cars parked next to one another as if they are on a date...the first which seemed quite out of place was a Yellow 69 mustang...i didnt even know 69 mustangs came in yellow. could be a paintjob...but a good one...for Bulgarian Standards at least. the second was an old ( as in 40s) white Citroen something more of what the old man from the cafe would be driving...so i automatically assumed the Citroen belongs to prissy old man...and the mustang belongs to dying little girl...daughter of prissy old man. i walk into the short entrance and find myself in a cobbled landing...there is a rather robust old woman on the side...with a huge mess of foam and detergent around her...seated in a crouch position in front of a large round wooden tub...you can tell from the smell of the detergent that she is washing she has a colored scarf wrapped around her head..with few strands of hair ecaped the clutches of the sweaty scarf. she sees me and smiles...donning her blackened gums and what few teeth remain attached...

Teeth....

I saw Mischa's...Teeth in their droppings. they ate her...to survive yes...but they ate her...they ate one of their kind...consumed her like we consume cows everyday...eat them, digest them and then make them become an eternal part of us...what we dont like we let out of us...as waste...Just like Mischa's Teeth...

She had beautiful Teeth...
Which made her have a beautiful smile...gone...eaten, devoured.

Prissy old man waved from a window...and jestured me to come up....when we finally reached his Daughter Alexa's room...all i can think of was Mischa...and how she'd listen to my stories.

Alexa was a good listener...she gives you feedback with her facial expressions...intrigue, excitement, anticipation, boredom, all appeared clearly through a series of systematic nods...wide eyed stares and raised eyebrows....and a couple of pouts. She seemed quite jovial for someone awaiting their death. From what i understood it was quite a terminal illness that nothing can be done about. She really is accepting her fate i guess.

Alexa smelt like someone about to die...you know that smell...musty and sick, with all the bacteria and worms and maggots waiting to eat you..once you have no immunity..disgusting creatures...scavengers...

well at least they dont kill for feeding...they feed on what already is dead...

Whats bothering you most ? the fact they killed her cause they were hungry? or the fact that she was eaten?

Don't know..its just an awful thing to do...

Fuck you Issei Sagawa, Fuck you Jeoffery Dahmer,

they're cowards...they can't scavenge...its ego...not gastronomic hunger...

i will kill you

i will fuck you

i will eat you

you will be part of me..forever...

thats their chain of thought..they want to glorify the victim immortalize them as long as they themselves exist, not out of love of the victim...but out of envy...they see something in the victim they might lack, and covet it, they destroy you...and take it for themselves...they are threatened...by yor very existence..they erase you..and in a way become you..no, you become them..a living part of them, that regenerates, grows with them...

Sick

Sick

Sick

I want my Mischa back...i want to tell her Bedtime Stories, stories of men in a land who arent afraid of being eaten, of women who dont fuck for power, who dont perceive life as an eternal battle between genders and a test to prove superiority, in a world where man doesnt kill man or reign supreme over his fellow man to satisfy his ego, preserve his blood or juice up his bank account. a world where i need not look over my shoulder, where i can just love people and never worry about them seeing harm, strife or suffering, a place where Injustice cannot flourish, a place where Apathy can't breathe, a place i can share with my kind

A Secret place

My Secret Place

My Bedtime Stories...

Soundtrack to Driving on the Dark side of the Road

"The world still is the same...you'll never change it...as sure as the stars shine abovvve...

"well you're nobody till some-body lovvves you...so find yourself somebody to lovvvve..."
Dean Martin was gracefully interrupted by the revving of the sheer powerful 420 horsepower engine of the Camaro SS driving on the Road...







"Here i am...on the road again...there i am upon the stage...there i go...im playing the star again here i go...turn the page" - Bob Seger "Turn the Page" -





"Im on the road again..i aint got a woman just the car my special friend...im on the road again
"for i aint going down that old lonesome road....all by myself"

- Canned Heat "On the Road Again"-

"Hey Hey Hey Hey....Hey Stupid...What you Trying to do ?"

- Alice Cooper "Hey Stupid"-

Its certainly good to be home...but what am i going home to ? a warm bed and a nice home cooked meal, a shower, clothes, maybe a good book and some milk ( yes i still drink Milk.. for alcohol doesnt really solve anything but then again, neither does milk). I'm going home to an email account, fresh newspapers...a friendly porter, smiling neighbours who always wonder what do i do with my life, my couch, my Chair, i dont even have pets to give me a warm welcome home.



It's your choice...It's your life...you made it this way...why are you complaining...?
I'm not really..i really am enjoying it this way.. its relaxing, the moment you walk into the door...you are shut off from life...silence...only accompanied by your thoughts...

King of Your Castle...
not a long way to go...i should take a note to download king of my castle when i get home... until then lets see whats on the iPod



"Like the circles that you find...in the windmills of your mind"

-Sting "Windmills of your Mind"-

My mind has alot of windmills right now...I'm thinking way too much for my own good...





"Relax...Take it Eaaaaaaaasy" -Mika-
Phone rings...
"its Me" says Mr. Adham..."we're on..."
I dreaded those two words like you dread walking into that test you know you arent prepared for...like getting out of the car after a fender bender knowing it was your fault and you have to report to the driver infront of you and are at his mercy...like that call you have to make to a loved one telling them someone they care about has died.
Just when i thought i have room to breathe...the walls cave in again...
Kane..chill you are used to it....yes this one is big...but come on...its just business as usual.

"Do you still wanna meet where the killers eat, held accountable for anything you repeat?"

- Ice Cube "The Pecking Order" -

"Then Cowboy change your ways or with us you will ride...
tryin to catch the devils heard...across these endless skies..."

- Willie Nelson Feat. Johnny Cash "Riders in the Sky"-

"I want to live...where no one is watching my way home...."

-Smashing Pumpkins "For God & Country"-

"Staring at the world through my rearview mirror...just looking back at the world...from another level..you know what i mean? staring....
Multiple gunshots on the block, first off niggas is callin the cops, people shot...nobody stops, i wonder when the world stopped caring last night..you get shot while the whole block staring.."

- 2PAC "Staring at the world through my rearview"-

Yes the World is a nasty place, and imposes on you to do things you dont want to do, or never really realized you had it in you to do. But what are you going to do about it, you sure as hell wont cry about it now? how will that help...plus who are you going to cry to ? i thought you were alone...you didnt have all those lovely people as friends who are truly and utterly grateful for your existence in their life, and you dont want to get attached to them because once the heat comes you will have only 30 seconds flat to ditch them and walk away...so just get it over with...dont be a PPDQ and just get it done...Citibank Style...or was that Nike...?
Yes, something else as drastic even more, maybe less is going to pop up afterwards...because that is what happens with you...and i got news for you man...it will never end...thats life for you so put up or shut up ( No Fear T-shirt).
VROOOOOOOOM! ...that engine is just sheer Mazikkkkkka!!!! especially with the riffs of La Grange playing in the background....

Just Drive off..into the night...thats what you are good at...
why cant you be normal....find a girl and settle down..im sure someone out there is good enough for you



"I must have tried a thousand times...sometimes i think shes just in my imagination"

-Rolling Stones "Anybody seen my Baby?"

You dont find her because you dont want to...it scares you if you do...
Admit it...Women scare you...
You Fear women..



"Blood on her skin, Dripping with Sin...Do it again..."

- Rob Zombie " Living Dead Girl"-

"I say, Hell is Love, You say, You must Suffer, She's a , Mother fucker..

-The Ballad of Resurrection Joe & Rosa Whore-

Leave this self freudian analysis to someone qualified you twit...i wont admit to anything...im too tired to think, too tired to analyze...no time to breathe, get on...drive faster...you will be late...oh well...click next on that Damn iPod:

Love is Strong

Rolling Stones

40 Licks (CD2)

Love is strong, and you're so sweet

You make me hard you, make me weak

Love is strong, and you're so sweet

And some day, babe we got to meet

A glimpse of you, was all it took

A stranger's glance, it got me hooked

And I followed you, across the stars

I looked for you in seedy bars

What are you scared of, baby ,

It's more than just a dream

I need some time

We make a beautiful team,
Beautiful team ,

I wait for you, until the dawn,

My mind is ripped, my heart is torn

And love is strong ,and your so sweet

Your love is bitter, it's taken neat.

Why do i get the feeling the Shuffler on my iPod is trying to tell me something?

*sigh*
oh well....
Whatever
*mumbles*

Amnesia

Waking up in a Ditch in the middle of nowhere surely is an experience to knock you back to your senses. here i am, its almost 9 am according to Cairo time ( i always keep my watch set to Cairo time wherever in the world i happen to be) Im still in yesterday's suit...white shirt & no tie...covered in dust...im face down in the ditch...the taste of dirt still in my mouth...involuntarily crunching on a few grains of sand between my molars. Doesn't feel nice..

Theres Blood on my cuffs...is it mine?

An image from last night flashes infront of me...a Tall looming man...white hair and tiny beady eyes that penetrate you in an instant grimacing at me...with smoke in the air...he leans over to me and opens the passanger door im resting my wieght on and just flicks me out of the car like an annoying fruit fly...

Who's blood is this? did i beat someone up? should i skip town cause im surely not an assualt suspect...this could be murder. I frantically try to remember what on earth happened and how did i end up somewhere in the middle of the desert outside of Reno..

Can't seem to remember....

Can't seem to remember where exactly did i sign up for this bullshit either...

Tall looming man smiles at me and says reassuringly " I am a Just man..i will only give you what you deserve...ill only treat you like the monster you are...you are just like me...but i will put you in your place".
A few hours before...i was in a room...a room with a pretty view..there were men in the room...all clean cut and dressed for a nice Business function after hours.. well it was after hours for me...to them daily business was just about to begin...There was money on the table..the neon lights coming in from the panoramic windows to our right danced all over the faces of Benjamin Franklin. Benjamin wore the only smile in the room.

these people were pissed..

The Couch had a man in probably the cleanest galabeyya i have ever seen, covered in a nice black 3abaya with golden lining and a scarf wrapped around his tiny head.

"Raghead" was the first thing that came to mind...im sure alot of people wondered what the hell is someone dressed like that doing in a place like Reno..he didnt care, hes to preoccupied with bigger matters than to wonder about the impression he might be giving to the locals. he dares one of them to speak their mind. they should accept and be tolerant of other cultures as they claim.

"يا كين....جول له أنه مصعب الموضوع من غير داعي لو بوده دم حيبجة دمه هو و رجالته إللي سايل"

I try to translate that in the most diplomatic way possible, for i am the messenger..and messengers were always the cheapest cannon fodder in most wars..

" You are unnecessarily alleviating the situation..if it is blood you want to see, it will only be yours along with the blood of your men"
Tall looming man's eyes widen in amusement

" Who the Fuck are you?... his Translator?"

Im only a lawyer..
Im only twenty four..
I should be going to bars...dating pretty girls...driving a fast car...maybe doing a little cocaine on the side too...

My worries in life should only be Armani Suits, Fashion models and how to date them...and maybe a few serious lawyer work in the mornings...but nothing that follows me home...

nothing that haunts me in my sleep
nothing that makes me want to forget
nothing that would make me go all the way to Reno to settle it
nothing that would make me end up in a Ditch covered in dust and someone elses blood.
Can't seem to remember when exactly did i get involved into all of this
Can't seem to remember when i have become an integral and inseperable part of this universe of filth, greed, blood and tears..

Kane...what do you remember?

I remember being six, spending my summer in Alexandria with my Parents...we had a cabin on the beach. alot of people did, nice people, nice people i would have loved to surround myself with. we'd build sandcastles on the beach, swim in to reach the lighthouse at the end of the bay. go to the pier and spend the entire day fishing in our bathing suits..when we got too bored we would jump into the water and try to catch the fish with our hands...as if we were cartoon bears. on some days when the sea was too rough, we'd settle for a day flying kites on the beach...our parents would know exactly where we were from the location of our kites gliding through the sky. sometimes when we were in a creative mood, we'd gather around all the parents and put on a play for them at someones cabin, theyd act all interested just for us, simply because they were really happy to see us all enthusiastic about something.

I remember being eight, doing my first science experiment in school, they were trying to teach us the water cycle and hence we had to make a solution evaporate and the salt would crystalize in the beaker. i went home aspiring to become a scientist..it was a few weeks before my birthday. i got a chemistry set as a gift that year.

I remember being ten, my dad had me signed up for tae kwon do classes, it was one thing i was persistent in. everytime i felt sore from being beat in class, he'd rent out a bruce lee movie for me from the video club...he'd tell me bruce lee was beaten up as a kid too...look at him now. i remember one day, after class i went strolling with my mother and we bought ice cream although it was the middle of winter...we enjoyed the view and had talk about why would i be taking tae kwon do lessons..
"so that you can protect us from the bad people dear"

"why do bad people want to hurt us?"
"because they are bad..."
"why are they bad?"
"they're just selfish...they want what they dont have, and the easy way to get it is by hurting others in the process" "what do they want?"
"happiness"
"why cant they just eat ice cream and talk to their mothers?"

she just brushed my hair playfully, chuckled and gave me a kiss

I remember when i was twelve, i had my best friends over on a saturday morning, we played some video games and then went to play pool..we thought it was cool. On the way back we found this vendor who sold "bumb" which practically is gunpowder wrapped in little newspaper balls and fastened with some copper wire. we bought 10 pounds worth of it each...and engaged in civil war on my street. the porters would cheer and root for "ibn el 7etta" or Son of the Hood the cars passing by were courteous enough to stop for a moment as not to interrupt our little private war. Everyone was enjoying the mirth we were in...little boys engaged in violence against one another.

I guess Clean Galabeyya man and Tall looming Man wished people would let them have their own little war too..but then some 9-5 uniformed Reno PD man waiting for retirement yet with some delusions of grandeur would be tempted to meddle in their affairs thinking they are small time dope pushers who want to pull it off Montana Style. Why is it that the life we seem to watch in movies and have the comfort of being separated from by the touch of a button seem to have this tendency to jump out of the screen and become as real as the thumb protruding from my left hand? and why so soon...?

Im only a lawyer
Im only twenty four...at this rate...i wont be twenty five

I remember when i was 14, just came out of the shower on a thursday night..drenched my hair in gel...wore my addidas T-shirt...my levis jeans and headed off to the club...i'm meeting a new friend today..his name is Michael...we're going to go girl hunting for girls. we end up forgetting about the whole thing and just walk around chatting about this and that. Michael is probably like the brother i have never had...we talk to this very day...despite the different lives we may lead. I also remember meeting Lana that year too...she was new to school, her mother was worried about her and just picked a random kid in the playground who just happened to be me, she told me to take care of her like she was my young sister, i fulfilled that role to the fullest last week when i married her off to this great guy. I also remember this girl, her name is Nikita, i had the biggest crush on her but was too afraid to tell her, i spent 3 years fearing confession. Thats how ill prepared i was for life back then. i met her by coincidence last week too...shes a successful career woman working in a big company, and accordingly meets the expectations of having an active social life.

I remember Reno PD man pleading for his life. begging for mercy, and how he has three daughters to feed and a sick wife. i remember how all i chose to focus on was how would jenna, laura and vicky take the news...and how are they supposed to take care of their sick mother now that daddy's last resting place was a hole in the desert. i dwelled on the thought of how disgusted i was with myself that i was a part of that...how i let it happen before my eyes and silently chose to be a part of it out of fear..which still is not good enough justification. i wondered how Galabeya man and Tall looming man dealt with that..did they feel the same way too? or did they kill off their souls a long time ago?

I remember when i was 16, Grandpa gave me an old gun of his. "use it with respect" he said, "it is only a sport...not a tool, it doesnt solve problems...it creates them...use it alone...respect its power and the power it can give you...but never use it. enjoy it in solitude...should you be compelled to share it with someone, then this sport is not for you. never teach someone how to use it, it is merely instinct. you cannot teach someone instinct.

A day will come, where you will be tempted to use it...dont give in to temptation, for if you will..then that will be the day you lose your soul"

I sought out someone to help me with the ways of the gun, lets call him Operations. Operations beleive that guns were intially made so that the weak can protect themselves. Time has proven that the creation of Gun is like opening Pandora's Box. i conveyed that to Operations, he replied with two things:-

1- "Teach your Sons the way of the Gun, swimming and the riding of beasts"
2- " you must protect us, take care of us ...you have a duty to protect, you must be prepared i dont ask you to act..i am here to teach you how to react, like i said, guns are for the weak, alot of weak people will be fooled to think they are strong, and will attempt to harm others, react Kane...react and put them in their place"

I didnt put Tall Looming man's goons in their place, I didnt put the mad dictator vanquishing our pride all these years into place, i didn't put Issei Sagawa in his place...nor Dahmer, nor Bundy, nor Ezzat Hanafi, nor Bashandi, nor Charles Taylor, nor Slobodan Milosoviesc, nor the neighbour i hear beating his wife, nor the Citizen killing Cop, nor the men at Novartis, nor the men at Haliburton, nor the Spectres of Switzerland,

but then again...nor did anybody...

I walk closer to a grey stretch in the middle of the desert. it must be a road...its empty. theres a road sign...Reno 12 miles and it points to the left, another sign pointing to the right..."BACK HOME 4,000 MILES"

I stand under the road sign, waiting for any car to pass by. a Silver Lamborghini jets by me headed to Reno..Lola is driving..she must have heard im in Reno..she just passes me by.

What happened last night? what was the money for? who is tall looming man? who is galabeya man? what happened to Reno PD man? where did i sign up for this shit, how does being a lawyer make u end up in all of this?

a lot of questions unanswered..

A Black Suburban passes by...coming from Reno...Jordan Kalfus is driving...Rankin Fitch is riding shotgun with a cigar in his hand i autostop them...

"Kane boy..." Says Fitch..."come with us...we came to pick you up.."

"you headed back home?"

"nah, little britches...we're taking you back to Reno"

"I'm through with Reno"

"well it beats the middle of the fuckin desert dont it...just come back to civilization then sort something out there to go back home"

Kalfus throws in a look..."Last call Kane"

"ill try my luck with the next car"

I wait for a while till the next car passes..it hits me how as much as i want out..how much i have been prepped for all this..we live in a world that prepares you for this. No matter how protective or impermeable the bubble you live in might be. If your parents dont sign you up for Tae Kwon Do lessons then some bully will steal your jellies. If your mother doesn't ask you to protect her, some guy will knock up your sister and run away...leaving your sister to blame and a filthy little monster grow inside of her. if you dont come across someone like Operations..you will meet a reefer man to teach you the ways of the joint, or a Ghandi man to teach you the art of politics, or a Bhudda man to teach you spirituality...either way that won't prevent Dakhleyya man from having some fun inserting impaling objects into your rectum.

Even if you manage to use supergule to seal all the holes in your so called bubble...some bubble popping monster will come along and burst your domain with the utmost ease...living you flickering around like a fish on the deck of a boat...squirming out of your inevitable fate in futility.

A White Mercedes appears on the horizon, coming from back home...i see the driver...i recognize him..its Mr. Adham...he stops and lets me in...and zooms off to Reno.

"We heard what happened...we also heared what you told Kalfus & Fitch...don't be silly Kane..Reno is your place...Reno is your Duty..protect us from the bad people your mother once told you about"

I can tell we are driving quite fast...or maybe the Road to Reno is just easy...we're almost there...

"Mr. Adham...you once taught me how it is all about free will...one cannot escape his destiny nor his duty..so leave me find my path...if Reno is my Destiny...i will be there...but for God's sake i didnt sign up for this shit!!....Im only 24....Im only a Lawyer.."

Mr. Adham Drops me off at a roadhouse... two miles outside of Reno... the sign says "last stop to Reno" the parking lot is full of 18 wheeler trucks. alot of cars zooming by the roadhouse..all going quite fast..full of familiar faces...from back home. Xanatos, Dollface, Chuckles, Beamix, Twine Runner, Pigbart, Scorpio, Curly Sue, Agroboys a plenty...and Gulfies Galore..all heading down to Reno.

The sun boils down on me...i recall the past 8 years of my life..such a detour...such a dissapointment to the little child that was once me. i need a lift back home. Reno shouldnt be for people like me.

A woman...walks out of the roadhouse dressed in a red trucker cap, trucker shirt jeans and red converse hightops...just gawks at me...her name turns out to be Bertha...(not the first Bertha i meet) i inquire as to the reason of her gawk...

"oh...its nothing,"

"have we met?" I ask

"maybe in a past life..is that your blood?"

"no, its not mine..but im sure ill get into alot of trouble for it...so you headed to Reno?"

"yeah...lots of action going on, im only here to watch...dont want a part of it though"

I pause and reflect on what she just said...i remember the day when i once said it...and look at me now...

"don't...its hard to resist..."

"i know...i am rather intrigued...quite curious to explore...i have some time on my hands before i move on...so thats why i am thinking of exploring.."

I felt compelled to help...

"well spend your time eslewhere...i lost myself in there...and im trying to find it again...!"

"wow...self discovery...can i help...please?"

"you say you have the time...can you drive me back home?"

"but i wanna see Reno..."

"maybe i can give you a tour...but i gotta go home first...will you drive me home?"

"well i got the time...and i could use a nice long drive..."

"Wheres your car then?"

She smiled... I haven't seen someone smile...since benjamin franklin on the table..before that...well maybe when i was six...The Parents enjoyed the plays we had on the beach...

Why do i get the feeling i might end up back in Reno?

well whatever happens i hope this amnesia wears off..i dont know where ive been...i know where i came from..and i sure as hell dont have a clue where am i going...

but alot of questions need to be answered.

The Danger of a Beautiful Stranger

Probably one of the most common fantasies of just about everyone i know is meeting a beautiful stranger in the middle of a crowd of seemingly interesting people, where such a Beautiful Stranger just makes them all appear as banal. Something that kind of goes like this:

" I was there...in the middle of the crowd, a crowd of people all of which were at their very best. A crowd so accomplished that i would only dream of being placed with. Am i truly one of them? but of course i am. for this is quite an exclusive gathering and we are but a select few that have been chosen among many, makes me feel special doesn't it ? to my right there's Mr. Billionaire , with the whole wall street look going on for him,he looks like a Stockbroker....to my left there's Miss Executive, in a nice black dress...looks like she's in Advertising. hmm...why am i not that impressed anymore? i wonder what my significant other is doing right now. That thought just enters my head while i attempt to dodge Mr. Fat Sleazeball who has had one drink too many and will be making a fool of himself pretty soon, wonder what does his wife think of all of that...oh well....looks like this night wont be as great as i expected....

Will i meet someone tonight i wonder? well what the hell am i thinking i have a significant other i probably will never find someone like anywhere else? but are we right for each other?

i'll stop obsessing now...ill think it over tomorrow. Okay, Mr. Billionaire is hitting on Blonde who is desperately trying to look like Jessica Simpson...he must be drunk...Miss Executive is being swooped away off her feet by that hunk who probably has a brain the size of a walnut, but people give him the benefit of the doubt due to his lovely jawline and 5 o'clock shadow. Shes had too many mojitos to be in control too.

Everyone's drunk..

i'll humor myself and observe the comedy going on at the dancefloor...

right there between Mr.Producer who is dancing like a frog in a blender and Mr.Politician who is shifting his wieght from buttcheek to buttcheek while balancing a drink in his hand and a menacing look on his face i see a Stranger that attracts my undivided attention....

everyone else disappears for an instant that seems to last forever...

The Stranger is Sober....

the only other sober person among a miniature world of drunks, blinded by their stupor...

with a reprise in my head of the chorus of a song by Chad Kroger and Carlos Santana i actually feel hope...

this might not be a bad night after all..

"Hi..."

"well hello there..."

"tempted to say something cheesy to try to convey how much id love to keep this going...but ill take a risk and go by something boring like i need some fresh air...care to join?"

"uh huh - & a smile"

We then take a long walk, forgetting about the drunken world behind us, with its loud music and designer attire...all the glamor and excitement behind us...for a new kind of excitement awaits..an excitement that might last way longer than one night...that needs no Gucci nor Prada to be glamorous that needs no Vodka to be brave, that needs no Cocaine to say the right things , no business card for me to remember it the morning after and no phone number for me to keep in touch with again. One would expect we talk about what we do when we aren't surrounded by drunks, show our pros and try to hide our cons...but actually..we conversed as if it were for the millionth time...small talk at its most trivial, humorous and definitely at its most enjoyable. The Hours were chitchatted away like wind gently blowing leaves off a tree.

The Parting was spontaneous...as if we are bound to meet again...no assurances, no guarantees but there was this inherent feeling of certainty this wont be the last time.

And i drive off...back into my world that awaits me....saying

Aaay yo ayyy yo ayyy yo ayyy and the voices ring like the Angels sing

Makes your heart grow wings and fly...dont it ?

" The Morning After i talk about the encounter with my friend who is skeptical about the whole thing and taunts me for my foolish behaviour that i shouldnt dwell on it...it just ends right there and there is nothing special about it... that stranger might be committed, might be not good for me...might clip my wings...ill lose my freedom...its just not time...the person i am with is safer...better for me... that stranger might be an assassin, a rapist, a serial killer, a freak, a player, or even worse...married.

I decide to take a second opinion...i seek the advise of the words of wisdom of my mentor..this is what my mentor tells me:

" As unwise as this might sound...such matters need not be decided in committees and closed chambers..no five year plans...and no votings..such matters need strong foundations you may only find in your gut...maybe your heart...we only live once..the lucky of us..maybe twice...that meet was in the utmost certainty an experience on its own... should you see yourself as a lucky person, one of the people who live twice...then search inside yourself for motivation...should you find it..then chase after this Dangerous Stranger...the stranger will not harm you nor give you grief nor time of day..."

What about the Risks O wise one?

"The Risks are well balanced with the rewards...Seek the Stranger...should the searching inside yourself prove fruitful..then you have nothing to fear...if such stranger is as you speak..then no change or expectation will be imposed on you...free will Grasshopper...free will.. that is what strangers advocate..."

What of the Dangers and Sacrifices?

" you are not asked to sacrifice...you will feel what is right later on...and such sacrifice will be of your own initiative...and hence not appear as a sacrifice...but what you want to do...as for the dangers...we are beings who thrive on danger...for danger brings drama...drama sells...look at Oprah...go Young Grasshopper...love...maybe even fall...play in the playgrounds of life... Dance with your Stranger...pull the devil out from inside of you...the stranger is a gift from the heavens...its so easy to tell..its a blessing from above that could save you from hell..."

Aay yo aay yo ayy yo ayy...and we daaaaanced on into the niiiiiiight!!!!

Knerves of Steel

" Do you Expect me to talk?"

"No Mr.Bond i expect you to Die..."

Alright, i will interrupt one of the most classic scenes in Bond History to just let you in on what's going on. James Bond the legendary man with the legendary number is being held captive by an egotistical maniacal Enterpreneur who has an obsession with Gold and Winning....his name is Goldfinger. But i am sure i dont need to tell you how the scene goes, i mean you can just go and watch the movie. but lets forward to the next scene where things get more interesting...and relevant.

FF >>

Play >

Interior of a well furnished Lockheed Jetstar private Jet registered in the name of one Aulric Goldfinger, flying southwest over Newfoundland at an altitude of 85,000 Feet. Bond wakes up with the headache from hell as a result of a tranquilizer only to find a face in his...sneering, and my oh my what a pretty face it is. His exact words were " I must be Dreaming".

For those of you who have never seen Pussy Galore ( which i am sure alot of you havent) she is quite a sight. Blonde, fair but a little Tan, with a figure that would make a New Guinea Sloth jump up and down in enthusiasm and not like many blondes...shes smart...her eyes ooze smart, wicked, dont mess with me, and in the same time the most sincere "arent you thanking your mother she bought you into this world to meet me" look you can ever get.

All those who have messed with Pussy, regreted it..even 007 himself, shes not just another TNB...she is the Founder and chairman of TNBers of the World Unite!!! , i mean when Bond himself tried to mess with her..

she gave him a piece of her mind

" You can turn off the Charm......I'm immune.."

That is how Bond and Pussy met. As for me... I'm thanking my mother she bought me into this world to meet her. This is how it went:

I know this Gypsy...she tells me my future. i go to her orange caravan every chance i get to know about my future being the curious person i am. The Gypsy, who takes a keen liking to the occult likes learning to fly. would make sense for her to have a pilot for a friend, this is where Pussy Galore comes in. I guess i can say The Gypsy never saw this one coming. frankly neither did i, alot of men find Pussy too intimidating, she is the type of lady the most Ganjo like of men fear..she's their nightmare. Part of her Job Description for the likes of Goldfinger -save what was asked of her in Operation Grandslam- is persuading people to talk, which is a decent word for torture. she Impales men, my initial peception of her was no different.

Theres this weakness men have, its called control. Men love being in control, Pussy doesnt give men that comfort. She is the kind of Lady any woman who suffered at the hands of a man aspires to be like her, if she fails then shed rather have that man report to Pussy...revenge sure is sweet.

You are probably asking right now why would a smart, beautiful, and powerful woman like Pussy would be like that, im sure you would say shes weak on the inside and is just trying to compensate with a rough outer shell. You'd be foolish to think so. It's just that we arent good enough for her. But if Bond is not good enough, then who on earth would? the answer is simpler than that. Sometimes the best solution for the most complex situations is the simplest one. Just be Ordinary...not hot Cars...Bond had that...Not Money...Goldfinger swam in it...Not Attitude...A Cocky Hotshot compensating most certainly tried and had a Zanooba land on his head and a wooden stake up his rectum...you know what it takes ? read on.

The Gypsy invited me over to spend a day with her and her nice bunch of interesting friends..didnt give Pussy that much attention although i knew nothing about her, and i suck at reading people so i cant tell if that sneer is because that is the way she is or because shes got something stuck in her teeth that she is trying to pull out. After lunch she asked us to cater to a little special taste that is probably only appreciated in her country of origin. I refused...She put me on her black list.

Having what used to be part of a tree shivved up my once but not anymore Fat Ass is not exactly something i would want to happen to me. Not only that i would do all what is humanely possible to avoid that. So i try to think of something that would have her cross my name off of that dreaded list. Kane, think of something and fast. I headed off to the nearest Baskin Robbins and fetched two scoops of cookie flavoured ice-cream.

That was all i needed to get my name scratched off...see life can be simple.

Not only did that make my ass thank me for looking out for its welfare, but i also learnt alot about Pussy. She is just like any other lady...sick and tired of the games we men play, the attitude we all give...you see Girls are smart..they know when we men are acting out, Pussy is no different, she just decided to do something about it. She'll take no Bullshit (TNB) and will feed it to anyone who tries to give it and takes care of her kind. Pussy may be different from alot of other TNBs...she takes the time to understand the people she is dealing with, no matter how complex, and pulls it off effortlessly...she is a scary judge of character, and definetly once she realizes you are a person worth knowing..shes just herself. actually ill take that back, shes herself all the time, the problem is that her being herdelf scares alot of people, people fear seeing someone so content with what they have become, it reminds them of their insecurities and how they cant have what Pussy does. its envy...nothing more, envy and selective blindness. Deep down inside Pussy there is this little girl just like any other little girl who enjoys life, looks out for her friends, is in love with fun, wants to make the best of her life, and uses her assets and God given gifts wisely. She is smart enough to invest in what is worth the time and effort such as Body, Mind, Soul, Family, Future, Friends, and acquaintances. Shes got a great smile, great spirit and an unquenchable zest for life, not to mention gives you the great advice you need during times of need.

Shes also got Guts...i mean shes a pilot, she flies planes, jumps from planes with no parachutes, tots guns, tosses men with guns, tosses men who give her attitude, wrestles gators, she also once tackled Dan Marino in his prime..i mean physically tackled him at a Sunday Barbeque although he might be 5 times her size...drove into a factory on fire , swam the english channel , was stranded in the amazon and found her way out, gave a speech about mid air ballistics to professors and physicists although shes just a high school dropout and joined her Crop Dusting Dad in Arizona, yet in the same time, she can tell the difference between Tiffany Diamonds sold at their 5th avenue store from the ones sold in their South Coast Plaza Mall Store in Costa Mesa , She speaks seven languages, takes the time to do manicures and pedicures, is invited to all the Haute Couture events, is out and happening wherever its happening, is in every issue of Paris Flash, was Friends with Princess Diana, is Friends with Ahmed Fouad Negm, had Dinner with the Dalai Lama, and did Coffee with Kofi Anan...Busted James Bond (obviously) Kaught Krooks with Kane, Danced with Darren Hanson and Argued with Augustine..

that needs Guts...

Nerves

Knerves of Steel

Welcome To the Woods where the Things have No Name

" Watermelons....can sometimes look very fresh but at some other times would give off the vibe that if you put your nose to them they would smell like cheese."

That thought induced by the sight of the watermelon slices on the buffet to our far left was interrupted by Mr. Adham uttering a word that makes my spine tingle. "Blood bath". I almost dropped the drink i held in my hand when i processed what he was talking about.

Here i am Egyptian, 24 years of age sitting in a ranch in Bordeaux sitting down with a group of people discussing the fate of The middle east. It was a very casual conversation just like any conversation you eavesdrop on that turns political in your local 2ahwa, but when it gets a tad bit too serious someone always comments something along the lines of i dont want to get picked up by state security , and the subject is changed.

This conversation was however a little bit different. I mean the content was the same, you had the analysis of the current situation, expressions of discontent with the status quo, and then the radical solutions to attain the conversing groups interests. Then came the doable ideas. The comparison to 2ahawa talk is quite in order.

The only difference is, the people talking...can actually do it.

Welcome to the Woods where the things have no name.

To my utter shock what i thought takes months of studies and expert committees and so forth to come up with a well studied policy just happens very casually. theres a very big difference between "statistics show that the trend of religous extremism in the middle east can cause detrimental harm to the interests of fortune 500 companies investing in the region" and what was actually said by someone who already had one drink too many "They're a bunch of Raghead fundies...burn them to the ground before they cost us money". What shocks me more, is that months later , when i am back home, i read the newspapers and reialize what was ranted in that sit-down is being put into action on the highest official levels?

Does Bordeaux Wine make you tell the future?

---------------

When in Miami i bunk over at an old friend's place. He left Hungary after causing alot of trouble to bigwigs over there. in Miami he is protected by the power of the Dollar, to the Hungarians he is pretty untouchable. he's pretty small time, but locally hes not to be messed with. hes a King in a town where little Kings have a shelf life of 4 years...hes been there for 15.

Welcome to the Woods where the Things have No Name

The Police and FBI and DEA and any other set of US initials that have a field office in Miami find him very useful, his opinion happens to be important to what the local gangs should and should not do. These Government Agencies are bound by the US Constitution to uphold Democracy and most importantly freedom of speech. They guarantee his protection as a US Citizen to express his opinion and make it heard by the Gang leaders...it's his right, and theyre upholding it for him.

God Bless Freedom of Speech and Free Enterprise and the Right to Bear Arms.

----------------

A Client of mine created a company out of nothing. This company has 40 branches spanning the globe. He's been on the cover of Time magazine once, Forbes 4 times and hundreds of other periodicals. he can buy my entire neighbourhood and turn it into a parking lot for his servants cars if he wants to but he wont cause he really knows the value of Money. Sadly to say, his Two sons don't...not only do they treat their father like an ATM machine, but they watched too many movies and want to be Gangsta... so they invest in some scheme or network as some people call it, that provides quality Carnal entertainment to the rich at affordable prices from Imported all the way from Eastern Europe to the consumption of Emirs and Expat Executives in the Gulf.




Welcome To the Woods where the Things have No Name



My Client is old, and tired. He doesnt know he spawn two bastards from his loins, to him they are simply his pride and joy, justification for all the sweat he prespired and the red gold he bled throughout the years. He beleives he can trust his blood. thats what he learnt...i guess he learnt wrong.
I wasn t there when he took the decision to serve them his head on a plate. But i was there when he asked us to clean up his mess. It was quite a mess. All the energy he gave throghout the years ended up in a puppet, a facade for the most decadent and dastardly of things a man could do to a woman.

Trust should never Rust...But even what is strong as Iron does, if not fused into an Alloy correctly.

---------------

An old friend of mine, She's real sweet -or so i thought- Does Special Field work for the UN, i was asked by her to tag along once as an attempt to show me what her life is like. Her Job requires her to go to the most remote of places. Where Humans fear to tread, she feels right at home. After embarking on the wierdest of transport accomodations we ended up in the middle of the desert waiting for a banged up 4X4 to pick us up by some Nomad she's never seen before. He was 7 hours late...



Welcome to the Woods where the Things have No Name


While i was busy thinking how long would i last in the middle of the Desert and wether would i end up as lunch for vultures or as target practice for a bored Touareg she was dancing all over some deserted highway listening to Nelly Furtado on her i-pod. She Stops...

"Kane..why don't you have a Girlfriend?"
" Dana, is this the best time to talk about my relationship status"
" It's the only free time i've got "


I tried to forget about the fact that she is really UN but not exactly working for the "maintenance of International Peace and Security", that that backpack doesnt really have special equipment but End User Certificates for 20 Czech made Apaches and a dozen Sam sites ready and waiting to be decomissioned at Archangel Militray Facility in the Ukraine. I tried to forget that she is lying through her teeth and that if i show i know she'd probably kill me and i went on with the Conversation.

Why do we base the intentions of people on the colour of their flags? Red white and blue isnt that different from baby blue.

---------------

My Partner might be the only person i can trust...he used to work in Las Vegas Gaming Commission trying to catch Mafia Investors skimming from Casino Safes. the fact he survived that long entails he was smart enough to dodge a few bullets himself. This town was made for people to steal in, and he was the man supposed to fix all that up...not exactly the most loved of guys. He left because it was too much for him, he wanted a decent living free from the uncertainty of losing digits, waking up in a sack of potatos and poisoined martini drinks. All sounds good untill one day my Partner is out on business, a Mr. Montana shows up at my office one day and asks me about my partner,


i tell him to go fly a kite...


He shows me a picture of my Girlfriend....


Welcome to the Woods where the Things have No Name

My Partner is like the Brother i never had, it was a hard decision.


I walk into his office and ask him.."do you have two shovels?"












Blood and Sand have a very good ability of sticking to one another....







In the same time, im supposed to go out for coffee with friends, remember birthdays, get stuck in Traffic, stand in line to buy movie tickets, deal with a mechanic trying to rip me off, stop for a deputy who wants to give me a ticket for not wearing my seat belt, take shit from a bouncer on a club door, answer calls from telemarketers who want to sell me something i dont want, put up with people pissed that i dont call them as often as they'd want me to. put up with fakers who think they are all that cause the work at some bank, comfort my friend for breaking up, attending hundreds of weddings cause that happens to be the only thing people are doing right now, attend wakes and funerals of people i've never met and bear endless conversations about cellphones, gadets, cars, video clips, movies, girls, boys, men, food and TV shows...

And still have time for myself,


i only have one question....


Why me ?

The Number 74: Running with the Gazelles

It's Funny how we react to truama or Drama as i like to call it differently. You are always told to be strong and it will pass , whatever doesnt kill you will only make you stronger, that stuff. we dont have men that cry yada yada. I remember when my Grandfather passed away when i was 11. That was probably the last time i cried when i heard about the death of someone. 74 significant deaths later ( yes i keep count i know im sick) i still havent shed a tear. does that make me strong?

Well i'd beg to differ. i lost someone significant a few months ago. I was in disbelief at first, not only did it catch me off guard but it caught the rest of the world off guard too. It was pretty Tragic but hey, people die everyday dont they? does that mean we have to have a daily hour or moment of silence, mourning and tears? well its not really practical and i beleive in equality. If you dont mourn every brother in kind you have lost then you shouldnt treat anyone better. thats why i dont personally grieve...that is what makes me not cry on the death of 74 people , that had an impact on my life, that probably if lived longer would have affected the outcome of who i am, who if lived less would have made me less of the person i am now. 74 people whom i will add my name to one day, who will become 75 tomorrow if not today, and 6 Billion only God knows when.

So like i was saying, i lost someone significant a few months ago. refused to grieve about it and kept it all in, maybe its Guilt, maybe its my socialization getting the best of me - for like i said ma3andenash regala bet3ayat- regardless of the reason, the end result is, it was all trapped in. I thought that was a good thing...

Come Saturday...

I See a flock of Gazelles...running gracefully on my way from one place to another. I remember Lana Jass who has Faithfully Departed our world a few months ago. She always beleived that her place in the world, the only place she feels she was created to be in, is to run with the Gazelles. I looked at them and wondered...is Lana Jass running with them now?

I couldnt think of anything else all day. I remembered almost every memory i made with Lana Jass, the good and the bad, thought of all the things i wanted to say to Lana, all the things i wanted to do for Lana, but never had the chance.

The only thing that could comfort me was the thought that it was meant to be this way, and all you wanted to say and do are probably better left unsaid and undone. There must be a Good reason why an Angel like Lana has to so tragically depart this cruel evil world.until i find out why, i guess ill be angry.

I finally cried....why did i cry? i mean what was i feeling? i just related...related to the thoughts going through her awarness when she just realized she is no longer alive, she must have been dissapointed, utterly dissappointed , just when things were starting to get better, i mean 3 weeks before she got this new job she couldnt dream of, she finally found something she felt herself in...to me it was just a job...to her it was her Running with the Gazelles, finally sorted out her issues, finally in peace with herself and with life. then she crashes and burns...and its all over. no chance to say a last word to a special someone, no goodbye notes , lots of unfinished business.

Very trivial isn t it , but what do you expect its not like i died before and know what its like...

Sigh, one day i will find out.

Rest In Peace Lana Jass,

What Happened that night

People deal with bad moods in different ways.

Some people isolate themselves, others surround themselves with happy people. Some people sleep it away, Some people eat, some people sing, some people find a nice shoulder to cry on, some people pray to God asking for patience, some poeople work on improving themselves, some people work out, some people dance it away, smoke it away, drink it away. Some people go on pointless flings, Some wierd people go buy 2 guns and kill 32 people and themselves on campus...it says alot about you how you deal with your bad mood...

what do you do to drive a bad mood away?

I Rob Banks......

I was in a bad mood last night, And it went perfectly.... The sense of accomplishment of doing that, and the rush you get from doing such a thing just manages to make everything go away. It was lovely! absolutely lovely! everything was just right about it.. It was quite a big bank, security was tight and ive wanted to lay my hands on the loot ever since i laid eyes on it almost 4 years ago. Well ill admit the thought of Heisting the place didnt strike me when i first saw it, but the thought grew on me when i saw it for what it was. I didn't do it out of courtesy for the other crews in town who called dibs on the bank. You just cant go do a bank some other crew is prepping without pissing people off. In this business its all about courtesy. However, last night i decided to disregard protocol and all what Big Sal taught me of the business. It was worth it...damn well worth it, regardless of the concequences.
Its one of those banks that holds a good pot of loot but the real prize doesnt lie in the cash safely stored in the vault, rather than the safety deposit boxes ( you see its not all about Money you know). Alot of the banks customers ( i mean the ones who have safety deposit boxes) are mostly Dealers; Art, Arms, Drugs, Slave along with your usual bunch of terrorists, political crooks and world class made Wiseguys (thats Jerseyspeak for Mobsters or Mafia Bosses). so the safety deposit boxes can be full of potentially interesting things. For the sake of Brevity im going to talk in Heist Terms...if it gets confusing you will find an explanation at the bottom of the blog..if u uderstand a word of what i am saying then you really shouldnt be wasting your time reading this and go plot on how to cash out Fort Knox by pulling a Kansas City Shuffle* It was so sponteanous and i have to admit downright lucky too. a Slinky Spring* was my best option, no Ropers , no inside man, no shills just me, my wit and my luck...speaking of which i had all my lucky charms with me, my stinky sneakers, lucky boxers, and lucky lighter...good music in my ears and just about enough food in my stomach that would keep me healthy and not to veggish. I pulled a straight Freegard* for those fo you who dont know what that is....................

SCRAAAATCH!!!!!!!!

Why would i be silly enough to post all my trade secrets here online? what u think im silly? in it for the glory ? heck no...i dont wanna go to jail....so anyways lets fast forward to after the Robbery, where i have the loot stashed in my car, driving down the highway not a worry in the world and wondering what could go wrong?? im the happiest man alive, i dare someone or something to spoil it.

Fast Forward a week later, i walk into the safehouse, where i stashed the loot, and i find nothing. No stacks of 100 dollar bills no gold bars no bullion no diamonds no bearer bonds no stock certificates no celluloid negatives nothing...

all gone and a note saying "better luck next time" from whoever was smart enough to take the loot from me. actually not all was lost, i found one thing left behind...access codes to a former soviet nuclear warhead, now i cant say ive had one of theose befroe let alone what to do with it.

learn Kane, learn .....for the day you stop learining will be the day you become a waste of oxygen.

another thing to learn is, just that you dont get caught doing something doesnt necessarily mean you will get away with it, or have it for long.

Kane, stick to selling used cars...u aint no good in the underworld

why can t i be like the normal people who eat or sleep when they are depressed?

The Bitch

She came for a visit last night. I was sleeping. She just stood there sneering silently, enjoying my lack of conciousness while she had the upper hand. She felt powerful over me, she could have ended my slumber right there with the least bit of effort. Her mind started being creative in the ways she could torment my peace. She could've screamed one of her shrill screams that haunt me , or land an icy pail of water on my head, even worse set the bed (or my feet) on fire and watch me bounce around the room like a mexican jumping bean in chaos and she'd be laughing at the havoc she created in sheer evil. or she could've just had me suffocate with that extra pillow lying around.

She didn't,

She just lit a cigarette and sat down on a chair, one of her trademark More Menthols. There was just this something about here presence where i lie down every night that i found very uncomfortable. As deep as our understanding of one another goes, We are both strangers, the stranger you meet in a public place but just relate to. The stranger you look at whenever something happens in the setting and you are looking for a public reaction wondering oh so how did that stranger react to the silly guy who spilt his drink on the lovely lady in the mink fur. The person who you have a deep conversation with glances rather than words. That was how we always dealt, and here she is standing there silently watching me in the most vunerable of positions. doing the most vunerable of things.

She enjoyed the power she had over me so much, its one of the rare situations that she can actually exert such power over me. She's been thirsty for it ever since we've laid eyes on one another. I broke her that day and she has been dying to break me ever since. Shes done so many things to try to break free, she threatened to kill me, threatened to kill herself, stole my gun and committed a crime with it, cut the break line on my car, sent me underwear at the office, walk upto me while on a date and just slaps me and leaves when i was making a good impression, steals my friends, steals my CDs and returns them scraped, but then she buys me flowers on valentines gets me a valuable present on my Birthday. Tells everyone how horrible a person i am, tells me how great a person i am. calls me whenever i need to talk to someone, never bothers me when i need my space. Shes lived all her life getting whatever she wants. i dont know why would she want someone like me, but whats interesting is that she can have everything she wants, she wants nothing but the thing she cant have.

Me....

That's the only power i have over her, frankly and i hope she knows...shes smart enough to know, i dont want that power over her. I used to enjoy her company, maybe still enjoy it too but thats all. Shes a free spirit, just like me, i dont own her, dont want to own her, she doesnt own me , and i dont want her to want to own me.

I dont know how long she was there, maybe for a minute, maybe all night long, but she wanted me to know of the visit.

When i woke up this morning i find the stub of her cigarette cozily tucked in my right hand. I head off to the bathroom and find the mark of two perfectly formed lips forming a nice smack on my left cheek. She marked me with both the most precious and least precious marks she can.

Then they say i am the one with issues.