False Testimony; plus, True Harassment

   
   "False Testimony; plus, True Harassment"
   
   In the early 1990's, my family and myself moved to Franklin.  I was mortified to be shelled into such a constricting suburbia.
   I had been to plenty of physicians and priests; moreover, all they could deduce at the moment was Social Phobia and Agoraphobic tendencies.  Totally, I just wanted to deliver newspapers, write, read, and be left alone with my family; however, the neighbors had other ideas.
   The woman next door would just barge into our house and boisterously announce her proud presence.  I was mortified.  Once, on my way to deliver newspapers, she just bounced on in, without knocking, and I was in my underwear, getting changed.
   Things got worse.  They wanted me to start cutting their grass.  I didn't mind mowing the old lady's lawn across the street, for she was gentle and kind, but I was not about to be anybody's yard slave.
   They tried to pay me for it.  Called me on the phone numerous times, came to the door numerous times--I hid.  And when I did encounter them--I told them that I didn't want their money, yet they cruelly persisted in making me their boy.
   Their daughter was involved too.  She came over 4 times in one day, trying to give me money; I hid in stealth-like fashion.  Was just happy being a paperboy.  Too, the girl would have a guy over when her parents were out of town--all night long.  It sickened my Catholic celibacy.
   So, to take the edge off, I attempted to push them away--the art of deception.  Get rid of their intrusive, in-your-face style of neighboring.  I wrote a 90 page poem, using references that would conjure up literal offerings of her father's alcoholism.  It worked.  I didn't force her to read it, but put it on my property, and she retrieved it; next, gave false testimony to the police that I threatened suicide if she didn't retrieve it--bullcrap!!!
   My attorney called them Nazi-like.  And I didn't defend myself.  I couldn't publicly speak.  I couldn't even urinate in public.  It was all fabrication.
   Furthermore, she harassed my probation officer--he said we should get her for harassment.  I didn't; moreover, my probation officer adored me.  But I wasn't done.  Had to cement the fact that you don't fool with an Irishman.  James Joyce was with me.
   I don't walk with pride, but am humbled by life.  Though sometimes, you have to go shinobi.  You have to understand the Art of War.  And yes, I pray for my adversaries.  And all I want is to live in peace, without the mysteries of possible temptation concerning adultery crafted by their corporeal intrusions.  Just let me live in peace.  Still considering a Civil Lawsuit.  

Flash: The Wiry Whippet (1)

   
   "Flash:  The Wiry Whippet (1)"
   
   My name is Flash.  I'm a Whippet; specifically, a sprinter, not made for endurance though, but I got me some stamina when it comes to spirit.
   I'm a descendant of the famous Greyhound, originating in Great Britain.  I live on a farm.  There are roosters.  Don't bother them.  Don't want an angry spur in my direction.  Hens too, but they're nice.
   My Master's name is Henry--he's a nice Old-Timer.  A widower.  Has a shotgun to scare away the foxes and coyotes.  I hope he never hits one, for they're kinda like my brethren.
   Scooper is my buddy.  He's a Lab-Mix.  Mixed with a little weird.  Big and goofy.  Both of us are allowed in Henry's house, but Scooper's tail always wags, in perpetual motion, knocking things off of the coffee table and such.  Henry doesn't get mad though.  He's laid back.  Likes to watch women's soccer.
   Anyway, this is just the tale, not my tail, but the tale of a haunted Halloween, when Henry had to deal with some crazy kids plotting to egg and roll our farmhouse.  But it doesn't involve him using his shotgun.  That's only for predators.  And immature kids aren't predators, mostly.  Heck, it's America--a country of second chances.  

Ash Heap Hound (20)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (20)"

   I couldn't have been happier for Zoe and Conner--my little girl, always; plus, Conner--a nice, shy kid with a sweet set of wheels, and his baggage was zipped, very tight; however, I knew that when the rest of us slept he tore his garments, was tormented, and would never have made it without the united synergy of Zoe and her American Foxhound self--and they say opposites attract, yeah, maybe to kill each other.
   It was nice too, to have Zoe home.  She didn't mean to always be the rebel and not give love to her mother before the lady passed into the Otherworld; specifically, Zoe was a hypochondriac since the conception of her own consciousness.  And when you are a hypochondriac, you have every mental and supernatural disorder in the book.  It ultimately morphed her into an American Foxhound--even my mind has bent all the spoons in our kitchen drawer, and I wasn't even trying.
   So, before you turn your back on somebody, or bully, or think you're being clever, well, go ahead--do it.  You'll get yours in ways never perceived.  And if not, maybe a family member.  Be cruel and lazy about someone's asymmetrical self, and next:  a tumor on you or a loved one's nutsack, and you know how it feels, but because you're nasty, and ultra-sleazy with a non-standard porn collection, watching young girls embarrass themselves, not empower themselves, for money, that great American prize, putting people into public office, but death awaits with a smile for those folks--yes, He loves us, but every Creator can become bitter at the selfishness of His Creations, letting you think you're winning; next, BAM!!!  It hits you, but as justice, not like the sublime trial of Tobias.  And there was a dog in his story too, gotta love it.   Then again--I could be wrong, or not.  

Ash Heap Hound (19)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (19)"
   
   It was simple, and possibly--the simpler something is; next, the closer it is to God.  Conner's low-end torque turned Dwayne's Z-car to ash, metaphorically, in a 0-60 race.  It was over in 5 seconds.
   As Dwayne and his opulent and ostentatious status felt the truth of an impoverished girl like the Virgin Mary being remembered for every generation, as the physician Luke mentions in the Book, so did Dwayne realize--he would not be remembered by Zoe.
   So, Zoe and Conner went into the garage, joined Max, and in a backroom, they all watched the 1980's animation of Thundarr the Barbarian, where the strong man rode with Ookla, a Mok, kinda like Chewbacca, and an amiable pythoness dubbed Princess Ariel; plus, she was drawn very attractively. 
   It was a post-apocalyptic world, approximately around (3994 AD), and the threesome could not get enough of the animated power, watching a trinity of episodes.  There is allegory in most everything, and most of the time--it's magnanimous.  Let us hope this continues.  

Karate Kid - Wax on Wax off

Ash Heap Hound (18)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (18)"
   
   Zoe's true-love hunger to encompass Conner's heart led her to fight for her man, telling Dwayne and his fancy attire at the greasy garage, well--I'll put it into specs up against his Z-car, like this:
  
1970 LS6 (Lots of Speed) Chevelle.

Certain esoteric options provided, possibly:

450 Horsepower.

454 Cubic Inch behemoth.

500 lbs.-f.of torque.

Yet, would slide off of a curvy track;

Still,

On Big Block Highway--

Would even give a Boss 429 difficulty.

   Zoe didn't go on to say everything is relative.  Like a 1970 Boss 302 hitting 60 with ultra-swift agility, and yes, totally better on massaging the curves, for Dwayne's brain only considered style.
   Indeed, it is all relative, and again I usher in Mr. Miyagi:  "Wax on; wax off."  

Ash Heap Hound (17)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (17)"
   
   Conner knew Christ's Words from the Book; specifically, the Good News of Matthew:  "God maketh the Sun rise on the good and the evil."
   And Conner could not fathom why we oppress a young Olympian, yes 32 is young, for age is relative, and to die at 33, like possibly did the Christ, well--that's a young death.
    Do not the two people running for President have iniquity within them?  Are they without any morsel of sin?  Dead bodies, possibly, along the way, or not?  Yet they will lead our country.  Who is more of an embarrassment to the United States?
   Pray for your enemies.  Ignite them towards God, Conner knew; thus, he prayed for Dwayne, even though the dude simply wanted to lay the pipe in Zoe's decency, and for selfish reasons.
   Conner would not fight.  Would let the fight erupt around him.  Would watch as fools not involved in gladiatorial sports swung their bullshit.  Any thug can fight in an alley.  The true, righteous man fights with energy.  With prayer in spirit.  With love and hope.
   Logic is for the fool.  Yet logic grants cash in America.  Yet Conner knew--there is an infinite number of possibilities, and his money was on Intelligent, Loving Design, for our better state of resonating karma--if that makes sense, and it probably doesn't.