HUMAN ANIMAL
Montezuma is fifty-six years old and lives with his parents. They pay his bills and he drives their vehicles. His dad is eighty-five and his mother is eighty-one years old. There are four dogs and a hoard of cats. This colony of man and animal is situated across the street from a local high school. They have lived here since the early nineties. The place has seen better days.
The backyard is an inadvertent homage to the industrial age. Dead cars, rusted mowers, gutted appliances, and other forms of suburban machinery are statuesque and dismantled. It is a menagerie of rampant debris strangled by foliage and veiled by tall grass. Neglect rises from the allowance of time. An incidental garden of dead machines becomes the testament for despair. Between life and dying comes the drain of hopeless immersion. The landscape is the predator remaining still. Patience becomes the teeth to await the living. Monsters are not emerging on the horizon. They are the weaponized dalliance that already resides. You do not realize that you are slowly being devoured.
Dilapidation consumes the house of Montezuma’s parents. The roof leaks and the bathroom floor is down to particle board. The commode can only be flushed if one pours water from a bucket into the tank. There is only hot water since the cold water line broke some time ago. Montezuma is in charge of the water heater, so lukewarm water is the best that you can hope far. The bathroom is like a gross version of the planet. There is a crust above a strata of fossilized remains. Living leaves a mess and if one were an anthropologist, one could trace the history of Montezuma by merely going to the toilet. Since I have been there, I have never used the toilet. I prefer going to the businesses down the street. The bathroom and the laundry room are in the back of the house and this is where I am allowed to tread through their abode. It was my idea to live outside of the house and this was stated before my arrival.
II. THE ANIMALS OF MONTEZUMA
In the house of Montezuma, the animals come and go through the back door. There are holes in the window screens that also serve as cat exits. The feeding bowls are on the floor, washer, and back steps. The litter box resides beside the dryer. A layer of animal hair and pet food have bonded with the carpeted floor and this enables the crunching sound when one enters the back room. Geological strata seems to be a common theme that has yet to become a decorating trend. One may also view this as a low-tech version of a home’s alarm system. The house is embalmed with a perpetual animal smell because the animals are a noticeable center of Montezuma’s life. This also becomes a nexus for his elderly parents as well. Montezuma is the true focus of his life and this self-absorption permeates anything that becomes trapped in its orbit. It is not unusual to exit the bathroom or enter the shower stall and step into a fresh pile of animal feces. It is as if the animals showing sacrifice and devotion to their pagan god: Montezuma. Montezuma ignores this as well until it becomes inescapable.
The house of Montezuma beholds the scope of animal drama. A cat has a litter of kittens and then one kitten dies every day. The cat version of a body held in state is to be placed on the garbage can by the back door. Montezuma claimed that the mother had an illness that was passed on to her young. This excusable indifference is passed off to the family’s inability to afford a veterinarian. The high mortality rate for kittens inside the house carries another silver lining because the family would go bankrupt if these kittens survived. In the last two sentences, replace ‘family’ with his ‘his parents’ and that becomes the truth of the matter. Work may be a contagion that could eradicate Montezuma and his lineage. He is quite adaptable in avoiding labor, responsibility, and the brutal truth.
Montezuma dotes on his four dogs. They are walked twice a day and they ride in the vehicles quite frequently. Dog hair in a vehicle has become the family crest and signature branding of ownership. The neighbors refer to him as ‘dog man,’ ‘dog boy,’ and all of the possible variations of the man and beast theme. Neighbors have marveled at the closeness of Montezuma and his dogs. This knowledge comes shortly after the new neighbors understand that I am not there for reasons of absolute free will. It could also be their litmus test to check my sanity. This ends the tangent of our venture into mere speculation.
However, there was an incident that occurred a few weeks after my arrival. I had been in the yard working on the laptop when Montezuma declared that he was going to retire to his bedroom. Around nine p.m., I noticed that Montezuma was walking one of the dogs. This walk was conducted in a shirtless and pajama bottom sort of style. Upon noticing me, he placed a hand to the side of his face. Even cartoon characters realize that this is a frail disguise. Would anyone else dare to wonder why his dog was being walked by a shirtless and mysterious stranger in pajama bottoms?
The backyard is an inadvertent homage to the industrial age. Dead cars, rusted mowers, gutted appliances, and other forms of suburban machinery are statuesque and dismantled. It is a menagerie of rampant debris strangled by foliage and veiled by tall grass. Neglect rises from the allowance of time. An incidental garden of dead machines becomes the testament for despair. Between life and dying comes the drain of hopeless immersion. The landscape is the predator remaining still. Patience becomes the teeth to await the living. Monsters are not emerging on the horizon. They are the weaponized dalliance that already resides. You do not realize that you are slowly being devoured.
Dilapidation consumes the house of Montezuma’s parents. The roof leaks and the bathroom floor is down to particle board. The commode can only be flushed if one pours water from a bucket into the tank. There is only hot water since the cold water line broke some time ago. Montezuma is in charge of the water heater, so lukewarm water is the best that you can hope far. The bathroom is like a gross version of the planet. There is a crust above a strata of fossilized remains. Living leaves a mess and if one were an anthropologist, one could trace the history of Montezuma by merely going to the toilet. Since I have been there, I have never used the toilet. I prefer going to the businesses down the street. The bathroom and the laundry room are in the back of the house and this is where I am allowed to tread through their abode. It was my idea to live outside of the house and this was stated before my arrival.
II. THE ANIMALS OF MONTEZUMA
In the house of Montezuma, the animals come and go through the back door. There are holes in the window screens that also serve as cat exits. The feeding bowls are on the floor, washer, and back steps. The litter box resides beside the dryer. A layer of animal hair and pet food have bonded with the carpeted floor and this enables the crunching sound when one enters the back room. Geological strata seems to be a common theme that has yet to become a decorating trend. One may also view this as a low-tech version of a home’s alarm system. The house is embalmed with a perpetual animal smell because the animals are a noticeable center of Montezuma’s life. This also becomes a nexus for his elderly parents as well. Montezuma is the true focus of his life and this self-absorption permeates anything that becomes trapped in its orbit. It is not unusual to exit the bathroom or enter the shower stall and step into a fresh pile of animal feces. It is as if the animals showing sacrifice and devotion to their pagan god: Montezuma. Montezuma ignores this as well until it becomes inescapable.
The house of Montezuma beholds the scope of animal drama. A cat has a litter of kittens and then one kitten dies every day. The cat version of a body held in state is to be placed on the garbage can by the back door. Montezuma claimed that the mother had an illness that was passed on to her young. This excusable indifference is passed off to the family’s inability to afford a veterinarian. The high mortality rate for kittens inside the house carries another silver lining because the family would go bankrupt if these kittens survived. In the last two sentences, replace ‘family’ with his ‘his parents’ and that becomes the truth of the matter. Work may be a contagion that could eradicate Montezuma and his lineage. He is quite adaptable in avoiding labor, responsibility, and the brutal truth.
Montezuma dotes on his four dogs. They are walked twice a day and they ride in the vehicles quite frequently. Dog hair in a vehicle has become the family crest and signature branding of ownership. The neighbors refer to him as ‘dog man,’ ‘dog boy,’ and all of the possible variations of the man and beast theme. Neighbors have marveled at the closeness of Montezuma and his dogs. This knowledge comes shortly after the new neighbors understand that I am not there for reasons of absolute free will. It could also be their litmus test to check my sanity. This ends the tangent of our venture into mere speculation.
However, there was an incident that occurred a few weeks after my arrival. I had been in the yard working on the laptop when Montezuma declared that he was going to retire to his bedroom. Around nine p.m., I noticed that Montezuma was walking one of the dogs. This walk was conducted in a shirtless and pajama bottom sort of style. Upon noticing me, he placed a hand to the side of his face. Even cartoon characters realize that this is a frail disguise. Would anyone else dare to wonder why his dog was being walked by a shirtless and mysterious stranger in pajama bottoms?
(...to be continued)
HUMAN ANIMAL
MONTEZUMA 1
MONTEZUMA 1
NATIVES 1
LEAGUE OF DREAD
_________________________________________________________________________________
LEAGUE OF DREAD
_________________________________________________________________________________
THE EUNUCH
I. THE PLAY BOOK
Gossip prevails in Palestine, Texas. Montezuma and the neighbors are not excluded from this premise. An odd loyalty exists between the two houses. A similarity prevails in appearances and attitudes. They have lived next door to one another for years. Things intermingle and get mixed. Everyone dishes the dirt on everyone. The neighbors did not waste time in dishing the dirt. They laid out the Montezuma play book. It seems that others had been in my situation and the play book remained the same.
The hot water heater would be turned down so guests could receive a cold or lukewarm showers. This would have been a mild inconvenience, except that I had developed circulation problems while the ministries loosely affiliated with Redemption House pretended that I did not exist. The hot water helps with the circulation. Waking up with blue areas on my feet has become common. They are dry, cracked, and itchy and Montezuma is aware and indifferent. You walk everywhere until you walk through your shoes. Then fat boy whines about driving you anywhere. The only reason that I have shoes now is because two friends had given me two pair. I would have never dreamt that I would be in this situation. Montezuma is a full-fledged narcissist with a fourteen year-old’s maturity level. Montezuma has a short temper, zero objectivity, and that is telling.
The Montezuma household will exhaust your resources. There was no problem going through the food bought from the food card. I have never eaten a meal inside that house and I am usually on my own when it comes to food. At first, I got daily sandwiches. Then I could not eat any more sandwiches. Somewhere during this, I got the food card. I would wind up in the hole over medicine or storage and therefore I would buy food to pay them back. My storage is now almost three months overdue. My nieces’ inheritance, notebooks, clothes, computers, and everything that I need to start a life again is in there. There is also evidence from the trafficking ventures.
Then it occurred to me, what if Montezuma and his Dad is making a run for the storage. He is very aware of what is inside. They could just bleed me dry and then take it. That would be the only logical reason for their behavior. They want money but Montezuma must approve the jobs. That makes no sense. Taking the storage while looking like you are helping me follows a more coherent line of reason. It would suck that they would wind up with it after all of those ministries failed at their attempts.
There is something else. They had claimed to be Believers, yet their behavior betrays such matters. There is no prayer or talk of Scripture. Nor are agreements or differences settled by Scripture. There have been token attempts at such things but they fade fast. Any argument with Montezuma and he runs and tells his Dad and then I have to deal with the two of them. Montezuma has a short temper, zero objectivity, and that is telling. He knows that I respect his Dad and the elderly in general, otherwise I would not have called Adult Protective Services. Therein lies the rub with manipulators, anything will be used against you. Once again, the obvious eludes me. He and his Dad may have played the ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine and I fell for it.
II. GERMICIDAL CLONES
When I first arrived, I thought that I would clean the place up. Things were going fine and that is when the neighbors started to ask me to work for them. I get it halfway clean and Montezuma starts complaining. He is feeling insecure about his laziness. After all, this is a project that he once promised to achieve. Little efforts of sabotage would trail behind my efforts. Finally I quit. I started to clean the tool shed. I moved some of Montezuma’s old toys and he whined about moving his stuff. I stopped again. I offered to clean the house for his Mum and they never got back to me. So much for paying for my keep. It was fine, because I was getting work here and there. You try to get ahead in order to get out of this place. His Dad would always ask how much I make on each job. The greed was coming. On the other hand, Montezuma had honed his schedule of walking the dogs, nap, eat, television, eat, occasionally piddle on a ‘work’ project, nap, eat, walk the dogs again, and then go to bed for real.
I began to work for the neighbors for a while. Things went fine for a while. I sort of ingrained myself into both households. I took care of the dogs and cats and this surprised me because I am not a pet person. It reminded me of my ‘physicians’ practice in Conroe. Now I was doing the vetenarian thing. I liked hanging out with the neighbors. I was craving a sense of family. This was all play for me. I began working for money as well. Things went fine for a while. Sometimes I would get burned on the payment and I just dealt with it. Then I get burned once too often. I woke up one day and decided to run with the emotion. The sequence became ask for the money, they agree, then they would hide, get caught, lie, and then it would repeat itself. So I painted a few signs about the owed money. They called the cops. I could care less. I like the cops here, they were cool. Here is bad timing though. A few days after this, Child Protective Services had been called. No one asked me anything. My guilt is assumed and that was the end of that. Now I am hated once again. Whatever.
It strikes me as odd that the neighbors dictate things to Montezuma’s family. They now want me gone. Before this hilarity ensued, they would joke about Montezuma being lazy and inept. Now I am judged guilty without a question asked. Here is something else that I find odd. If I freely admit to Adult Protective Services being called, what would keep me from admitting to Child Protective Services being called. I have more to lose by admitting to APS. It is a curious matter. One would wonder if Montezuma would play a manipulation game by calling CPS while knowing that I would get blamed. I made it no secret that I wanted to call them after hearing and seeing some of the things that went on. The fact is that there was not enough evidence. It is a curious matter.
Montezuma has this absurd idea that I am to pay homage to him. In a sense, he is my ‘master’. He would approve or disapprove of whatever job that I might acquire. I had a chance to work at job that was ten miles away. That was vetoed because it involved him driving me to work. It did not matter if I paid for the gas, it was the interruption of television time. In order to make up for declining my chosen work, he would insist on me working at his suggestions. One day he tells me about a place hiring drivers. I ask him if they supply the vehicles. He says that they pay x-number of cents per mile and they supply the fuel. Montezuma finally caught on that you had to have a vehicle. When the carnival was in town, he suggested that I run away with the carnival. This expertise comes from someone whose work history remains a mystery. However, the neighbors have filled in some holes. Case in point, he wanted to be a truck driver. He became one and wrecked a new rig. Montezuma was let go...according to the neighbors.
The job thing is almost like an impossibility. One place hired me, then failed to pick me up. Other people hire me and then do not show up. Variations of this theme continues. I had been working at the corner store for free for two to three months. It is how I ate. I did the things that no one else wanted to do like stock the beer. It was a good arrangement. Everyone knew what was going on. One day, the manager calls his assistant to tell me that I am to leave and not come back. The assistant manager and I were talking about rearranging the drink cooler at the time and he calls her out of the blue. I lost my keys there and he tosses my food. Historically, I have got along with him. I come back the next day to see what is up and he yells at me in front of his wife. I find it curious. I ask a friend of mine and he states that he is setting me up. After the robbery occurred, I wondered if he just wanted me out of the way. Nevertheless, I am curious.
III. PATHOLOGY IS A LIFESTYLE
It is a struggle to get anything done. I try to get them to take me to the police station because I have some information about two robberies that may or may not be useful to the police. Montezuma throws a fit and so the answer is no. I have to get my medicine and Montezuma throws another fit. Later on, I finally find someone willing to pay and all I have to do is meet them at a store. Naturally, it does not happen. That was the final straw. I am now convinced that Montezuma and his Dad are manipulators. In fact, him and his parents seem like a future version of my sister and our parents. I am scared for them.
What sucks is that I wanted to talk in depth to the person that I called. His sermon on Matthew 18:15-20 has been one of my Biblical constants. I miss going to the Church, any Church. It is an hour and forty-five minute walk. I simply have to pick and choose when I need a driver.
I am surprised that I am functioning as well as I am without the medicine. This has never happened before. I did go to the woods and scream quite a few times. It does not matter what you do, manipulators will think whatever suits them. Truth means little. Naturally, the neighborhood remains abreast of all such matters related to Montezuma. It is odd that he and I talked about this site back in June. Did he suddenly forget that diaries were placed online. So much for a fail-safe. You think that people would watch their shady ways if others were watching. However, this would not have been possible without Sloan and Reggie. The best idea was to not have a leader, everyone It is too bad that they are so far away. It was a good idea to let the three of us have free reign. There are no leaders, just an agreement of purpose.
In June, my laptop crashed. I get an offer to design a website and Montezuma will not let me use his computer to go online. During that time, a friend tries to get a hold of me through email because my phone is dead. He is coming in from Canada to pick me up and get me out of here. I miss it all because I am not allowed on Montezuma’s computer. Naturally, Montezuma has no intention of making up for the eight hundred dollars that I lost on the website deal. In Montezuma’s world, there is only him.
At night, I am in Taco Bell on the laptop. I take a break and talk to a friend. I look across the parking lot and notice a flashlight. It goes out and there is Montezuma watching me watch him. He is also doing a bad job of being covert. The neighbors said that he used to do the same thing to them when they were growing up. I have noticed that Montezuma watches me a lot. I will catch him in peripheral sight. I may or may not point out the obvious.
The creepiest thing about Montezuma watching me came on Thanksgiving night. I had taken a shower around three a.m. and I was in the backyard. I noticed a red beam. There is Montezuma, naked in the bathroom window with a flashlight. I wonder if he realizes that other people can see the red beam. I am hit with a mix of emotions. There is anger, revulsion, and being creeped out. I look away and I can not make up my mind if I want to laugh, cry, or beat him senseless. This seems like such a predator-prey situation that has gone homo. Strangely, I am reminded of childhood somehow.
I am the family pet living out back in the dirty tool shed. It is cold in the winter and hot in the summer. They had no problem going through the food purchased on the food card. Like everything around there, they will exhaust all resources. Montezuma used to be blamed for being a drain and a manipulator. Most likely, he was trained to be that way. He retains little independent thought and his selfish nature is encouraged. There is an utter dependency on his Dad. It is sad that he is being raised as a proverbial eunuch. Once again, I am slain by the weak and inept. They did not take me to get my medicine. They did not take me to the cops. On some days, it simply hurts to walk. These are the days that I pray for death.
The hot water heater would be turned down so guests could receive a cold or lukewarm showers. This would have been a mild inconvenience, except that I had developed circulation problems while the ministries loosely affiliated with Redemption House pretended that I did not exist. The hot water helps with the circulation. Waking up with blue areas on my feet has become common. They are dry, cracked, and itchy and Montezuma is aware and indifferent. You walk everywhere until you walk through your shoes. Then fat boy whines about driving you anywhere. The only reason that I have shoes now is because two friends had given me two pair. I would have never dreamt that I would be in this situation. Montezuma is a full-fledged narcissist with a fourteen year-old’s maturity level. Montezuma has a short temper, zero objectivity, and that is telling.
The Montezuma household will exhaust your resources. There was no problem going through the food bought from the food card. I have never eaten a meal inside that house and I am usually on my own when it comes to food. At first, I got daily sandwiches. Then I could not eat any more sandwiches. Somewhere during this, I got the food card. I would wind up in the hole over medicine or storage and therefore I would buy food to pay them back. My storage is now almost three months overdue. My nieces’ inheritance, notebooks, clothes, computers, and everything that I need to start a life again is in there. There is also evidence from the trafficking ventures.
Then it occurred to me, what if Montezuma and his Dad is making a run for the storage. He is very aware of what is inside. They could just bleed me dry and then take it. That would be the only logical reason for their behavior. They want money but Montezuma must approve the jobs. That makes no sense. Taking the storage while looking like you are helping me follows a more coherent line of reason. It would suck that they would wind up with it after all of those ministries failed at their attempts.
There is something else. They had claimed to be Believers, yet their behavior betrays such matters. There is no prayer or talk of Scripture. Nor are agreements or differences settled by Scripture. There have been token attempts at such things but they fade fast. Any argument with Montezuma and he runs and tells his Dad and then I have to deal with the two of them. Montezuma has a short temper, zero objectivity, and that is telling. He knows that I respect his Dad and the elderly in general, otherwise I would not have called Adult Protective Services. Therein lies the rub with manipulators, anything will be used against you. Once again, the obvious eludes me. He and his Dad may have played the ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine and I fell for it.
II. GERMICIDAL CLONES
When I first arrived, I thought that I would clean the place up. Things were going fine and that is when the neighbors started to ask me to work for them. I get it halfway clean and Montezuma starts complaining. He is feeling insecure about his laziness. After all, this is a project that he once promised to achieve. Little efforts of sabotage would trail behind my efforts. Finally I quit. I started to clean the tool shed. I moved some of Montezuma’s old toys and he whined about moving his stuff. I stopped again. I offered to clean the house for his Mum and they never got back to me. So much for paying for my keep. It was fine, because I was getting work here and there. You try to get ahead in order to get out of this place. His Dad would always ask how much I make on each job. The greed was coming. On the other hand, Montezuma had honed his schedule of walking the dogs, nap, eat, television, eat, occasionally piddle on a ‘work’ project, nap, eat, walk the dogs again, and then go to bed for real.
I began to work for the neighbors for a while. Things went fine for a while. I sort of ingrained myself into both households. I took care of the dogs and cats and this surprised me because I am not a pet person. It reminded me of my ‘physicians’ practice in Conroe. Now I was doing the vetenarian thing. I liked hanging out with the neighbors. I was craving a sense of family. This was all play for me. I began working for money as well. Things went fine for a while. Sometimes I would get burned on the payment and I just dealt with it. Then I get burned once too often. I woke up one day and decided to run with the emotion. The sequence became ask for the money, they agree, then they would hide, get caught, lie, and then it would repeat itself. So I painted a few signs about the owed money. They called the cops. I could care less. I like the cops here, they were cool. Here is bad timing though. A few days after this, Child Protective Services had been called. No one asked me anything. My guilt is assumed and that was the end of that. Now I am hated once again. Whatever.
It strikes me as odd that the neighbors dictate things to Montezuma’s family. They now want me gone. Before this hilarity ensued, they would joke about Montezuma being lazy and inept. Now I am judged guilty without a question asked. Here is something else that I find odd. If I freely admit to Adult Protective Services being called, what would keep me from admitting to Child Protective Services being called. I have more to lose by admitting to APS. It is a curious matter. One would wonder if Montezuma would play a manipulation game by calling CPS while knowing that I would get blamed. I made it no secret that I wanted to call them after hearing and seeing some of the things that went on. The fact is that there was not enough evidence. It is a curious matter.
Montezuma has this absurd idea that I am to pay homage to him. In a sense, he is my ‘master’. He would approve or disapprove of whatever job that I might acquire. I had a chance to work at job that was ten miles away. That was vetoed because it involved him driving me to work. It did not matter if I paid for the gas, it was the interruption of television time. In order to make up for declining my chosen work, he would insist on me working at his suggestions. One day he tells me about a place hiring drivers. I ask him if they supply the vehicles. He says that they pay x-number of cents per mile and they supply the fuel. Montezuma finally caught on that you had to have a vehicle. When the carnival was in town, he suggested that I run away with the carnival. This expertise comes from someone whose work history remains a mystery. However, the neighbors have filled in some holes. Case in point, he wanted to be a truck driver. He became one and wrecked a new rig. Montezuma was let go...according to the neighbors.
The job thing is almost like an impossibility. One place hired me, then failed to pick me up. Other people hire me and then do not show up. Variations of this theme continues. I had been working at the corner store for free for two to three months. It is how I ate. I did the things that no one else wanted to do like stock the beer. It was a good arrangement. Everyone knew what was going on. One day, the manager calls his assistant to tell me that I am to leave and not come back. The assistant manager and I were talking about rearranging the drink cooler at the time and he calls her out of the blue. I lost my keys there and he tosses my food. Historically, I have got along with him. I come back the next day to see what is up and he yells at me in front of his wife. I find it curious. I ask a friend of mine and he states that he is setting me up. After the robbery occurred, I wondered if he just wanted me out of the way. Nevertheless, I am curious.
III. PATHOLOGY IS A LIFESTYLE
It is a struggle to get anything done. I try to get them to take me to the police station because I have some information about two robberies that may or may not be useful to the police. Montezuma throws a fit and so the answer is no. I have to get my medicine and Montezuma throws another fit. Later on, I finally find someone willing to pay and all I have to do is meet them at a store. Naturally, it does not happen. That was the final straw. I am now convinced that Montezuma and his Dad are manipulators. In fact, him and his parents seem like a future version of my sister and our parents. I am scared for them.
What sucks is that I wanted to talk in depth to the person that I called. His sermon on Matthew 18:15-20 has been one of my Biblical constants. I miss going to the Church, any Church. It is an hour and forty-five minute walk. I simply have to pick and choose when I need a driver.
I am surprised that I am functioning as well as I am without the medicine. This has never happened before. I did go to the woods and scream quite a few times. It does not matter what you do, manipulators will think whatever suits them. Truth means little. Naturally, the neighborhood remains abreast of all such matters related to Montezuma. It is odd that he and I talked about this site back in June. Did he suddenly forget that diaries were placed online. So much for a fail-safe. You think that people would watch their shady ways if others were watching. However, this would not have been possible without Sloan and Reggie. The best idea was to not have a leader, everyone It is too bad that they are so far away. It was a good idea to let the three of us have free reign. There are no leaders, just an agreement of purpose.
In June, my laptop crashed. I get an offer to design a website and Montezuma will not let me use his computer to go online. During that time, a friend tries to get a hold of me through email because my phone is dead. He is coming in from Canada to pick me up and get me out of here. I miss it all because I am not allowed on Montezuma’s computer. Naturally, Montezuma has no intention of making up for the eight hundred dollars that I lost on the website deal. In Montezuma’s world, there is only him.
At night, I am in Taco Bell on the laptop. I take a break and talk to a friend. I look across the parking lot and notice a flashlight. It goes out and there is Montezuma watching me watch him. He is also doing a bad job of being covert. The neighbors said that he used to do the same thing to them when they were growing up. I have noticed that Montezuma watches me a lot. I will catch him in peripheral sight. I may or may not point out the obvious.
The creepiest thing about Montezuma watching me came on Thanksgiving night. I had taken a shower around three a.m. and I was in the backyard. I noticed a red beam. There is Montezuma, naked in the bathroom window with a flashlight. I wonder if he realizes that other people can see the red beam. I am hit with a mix of emotions. There is anger, revulsion, and being creeped out. I look away and I can not make up my mind if I want to laugh, cry, or beat him senseless. This seems like such a predator-prey situation that has gone homo. Strangely, I am reminded of childhood somehow.
I am the family pet living out back in the dirty tool shed. It is cold in the winter and hot in the summer. They had no problem going through the food purchased on the food card. Like everything around there, they will exhaust all resources. Montezuma used to be blamed for being a drain and a manipulator. Most likely, he was trained to be that way. He retains little independent thought and his selfish nature is encouraged. There is an utter dependency on his Dad. It is sad that he is being raised as a proverbial eunuch. Once again, I am slain by the weak and inept. They did not take me to get my medicine. They did not take me to the cops. On some days, it simply hurts to walk. These are the days that I pray for death.
THE EUNUCH
MONTEZUMA 2
NATIVES 2
LEAGUE OF DREAD
I. INDIFFERENCE INC.
LEAGUE OF DREAD
_________________________________________________________________________________
ANDERSON COUNTY SUCKS
I. INDIFFERENCE INC.
Anderson County is the most pathetic or typical place in the world. I am not sure because I do not have anything else to compare it to. Three years here and it is as if I have been marooned on a desert isle. I am alone and cut-off from civilization.
I contracted food poisoning yesterday and someone called an ambulance. Another trip to the E. R. also meant another walk home from Palestine Regional Hospital. I remain sick because there is no money for the prescription. The common tagline about the place is that 'you do not go there to get healed, you go there to die'. I concur with that statement.
Misery becomes exponential in this situation. I stay at a filthy place and the people that I stay with are a piece of work. I passed out in the backyard today and they just left me. It gives me cause to believe that they are sociopaths. There are other reasons that finalize this opinion such as the self-centered thinking, indifference, and the child molestation case that rose out of their own family. It made the UK Daily Mail in late summer/autumn of 2011. It takes a lot for things in Palestine to be printed in England. The items penned about them are listed elsewhere under 'Natives'.
II. AN OBVIOUS IDENTITY
I would like to thank my Dad and sister for making all of this possible. I have accepted the fact that Dad is a sociopath and most likely my sister will become one as well. All of the relatives whispering through the years now add up. I never realized that someone could prop such a facade. The irony is that the obvious has come to perpetually elude me. All of those years reading comic books and the one with the secret identity was him. I never had a clue.
My Auntie once said that my sister will hate him one day. I now understand that too. She should look at a few matters that are glaring and before her. What he has done to me is unprecedented by him. It is a veer from normal behavior and a definite veer from Scripture. He builds a house and then moves. If he has absolutely destroyed my life, what is to keep him from doing the same to her? I thought that he loved me too? Sociopaths do not possess empathy. All emotion is self-centered and in truth, that does not count.
The weekend that my sister came home from Singapore to get a divorce is when we became enemies. It was a drastic turn spawned by whatever was placed in her head. This is evil and it leads to one being tried and judged based on opinion alone. I have begged for objective scrutiny about this situation and none have taken me seriously. Resolving family problems are part of a Church's duty and the Church has done nothing. It is the guilty that run and prefers things kept and swept under the rug. By indifference or by manipulation, accountability would state that those who do not stand with me are against me. Not being allowed a chance would be against me. There are a lot of ministries that seem keen on protecting a child molester. So much for all of those Church billboards proclaiming family. Hypocrisy abounds and I lose.
III. AN ENDING CENTURY
Maybe my death will wake her up. I have said that I would rather die than lose the storage unit. I mean that. It will either be gone this weekend or soon after. Anything beats living here in Anderson County in such a manner. This is a wicked and treacherous place. Stay away from the ministries that I listed elsewhere. This is not living, it is mere existence. Do not think that I will commit suicide, I will simply stop eating, stop everything that I can. If my family had any sense, they would understand what a pathetic reflection this is. The same may be said about the ministries here and anyone else that could have made a difference, but did not.
I reiterate what I have said about politics. Politics is useless. In a democracy, it is the people's fault for allowing things to be the way that they are. For every blustering man that makes a big deal out of Obama and Trump, maybe he should also realize that he could have made a difference with a neighbor or stranger's life, but he did not have the guts to get involved. We would not even need leaders if people merely did the right thing. That is highly improbable though. Americans stopped trying to make a difference and that is what made them special. Such philosophies died with the passing of my grandparent's and their generation.
IV. COPS
Now we are a gutless nation passing the buck. There is a problem when one must go through extreme measures in order to be heard, or to seek justice. Being judged and deemed guilty by those who are clueless about the evidence is a case proven by the existence of this blog. One must reach out to be heard because one is already unjustly suffering the sentence of guilt. This is stated because of how long this situation has dragged on.
From my experience, the only good thing about Anderson County is the cops. This is stated with sincerity. They are consistent, objective, and their actions speak.For every rube that whines about three cops dealing with one person, then look at the obvious. Someone is less to do anything rash if he is outgunned and outnumbered. Strength through intimidation is a smart and Reaganesque strategy to achieve a peaceful solution. Intimidation skips the aspect of bloodshed and lands directly upon the solution. One must remember that the Police are there to keep the peace. From my experience here, the only real men and women are those in the Police and Sheriff's Department. They get involved, get their hands dirty, and get thing done. It is too bad that the same may not be said about the ministries.
ANDERSON COUNTY SUCKS
NATIVES 3
LEAGUE OF DREAD
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