More Definitions:

The Gym: An assassination command or “buzz word” that enables high-ranking child-pornographers (who live their life a single witness's testimony away from a life sentence at any moment as “the price of doing business”) like the Molestors to silence those who might testify against them. Children are routinely killed thusly I'm told via the physical education system of Molestor controlled schools. Once the order is given in a certain tone with damming body language 'Take that child to The Gym and shut him up' The order has been given for the gang's children to kill a fellow child. Typically the target is then killed by their fellow students or ringers brought in from afar who will have files doctored to prove they've allays been at that particular school. Often a victim will be on drugs and slain under the guise of playing contact sports. Later the death will be explained away by the area's Dirty Coroners as a car accident or drug overdose.

The technique works on many levels I'm told. The children, often Molestor regulars will be filmed killing the victim to blackmail them for life (and provide the gang with a film that will motivate future vigilantes to eliminate the murderer for them if they should ever cross the gang) . Other times misguided vigilantes will have been convinced to kill a “scumbag who's got it coming” (I wouldn't bet on the “scumbag” part and they are probably merely a framed victim who's become dangerous or too unprofitable to continue exploiting). The killers will be blackmailed for life. Next, as it was explained to me, the gang show up at the murderer's parent's place (in the case of murderous minors). They are shown the film of the murder and it's explained to them that their child is a murderer. Then the gang leaves making sure their dirty cop is on duty at the front desk at that time. Then they show up a few days later and explain that they filmed the parents learning that their children are murderers and didn't go to the police. So now they are accomplices in a child murder (since I'm told very few families choose to go to the cops before this point). They brag they like to use sentences like. “You know what they do to child-killers in prison. Don't you”?

Often the child is simply the child of a loyal family who are so blackmailed/framed that they dare not oppose the Molestors, even if they are killing their child. “Either we kill your kid or we make those films of you at the torture/rape parties public. You'll go to prison for the rest of your life. You do know what they do to people who torture and rape children in prison don't you”? I hear it's the last sentence many a formerly law-abiding citizen has heard just before they helped set up their own child to die. “It's them or you”. It's win/win really. If they refuse they go to prison and you don't want to know what the gang brag they do to kids once they have removed all parental protections from them.

I also have heard that it's quite effective, incredibly low-risk (the Molestors run the school so they control what teachers might be around at the time of the killings, what students are present, and only do the killings for profit when their loyal dirty... cops are nearby to be “first on the scene”, see: cop of convenience), and represents brags that an annual or bi-annual child-killing in The Gym is a major source of income for the gang. Enabling them to blackmail up to 30-60 families at a time (all the parents of a single gym class).

Direct Child-Molestor quote. “Nobody lives through “The Gym” once the order is given”.

Author note: Yeah... I lived through The Gym. I had faith God would see me through it and I prayed a lot for the strength to live! That and I prayed for everyone involved too. Still do.

​

Me... 9-17-16ish Child-Molestor Country...

Sooo... last nite, I did laundry. My weather app told me it'd be “cloudy”. At the conclusion of my laundry it was a downpour. It made the fact that I carried an uncomfortable amount of laundry even more miserable. Man, is a semi-accurate weather app too much to ask for or what?

My point? Eh, soooo... about 3 months ago, I inventoried my socks and underwear. While I forget the number of pairs of socks I recall the number of underwear. It was 19. 20 When I counted the pair I was wearing at the time.

I've had a dream, fantasy really. I wanted to own enough socks and underwear so as to have fresh one's daily for over a month. SO I figured I'd buy an 8-pack of underwear and a 6-pack of socks every month for a while.

While doing laundry the stacks of each didn't look much bigger than usual. So I counted them. Though I've bought an 8-pack of underwear every month for the last few last year (minus the summer of 2016 spent under Wausau's care) my inventory was 20, then I recalled I hadn't counted the one's I was wearing. My socks were low too. I bought a 6-pack of extra tall socks last week and when I did my laundry I had but a single pair of them & even less total socks than last month.

The gang brag... eh, they brag they “do stuff” with my underwear. Soiled underwear make for great evidence when left at crime scenes, given to perv admirers, or warehoused someplace in a “room” that enables the gang to prove we're great buttbuddies 'See? He left a lot of his clothes and stuff here officer. That's proof we're great buttbuddies and that I'm not his stalker' or so I've been told.

Whatever the reason is for stealing socks & underwear, idano, wouldn't believe the gang if they swore on a stack of bibles when they told me, and don't care, much. It does suck to know that the pervs are out there, and that whatever their reasons for doing anything are, that those reasons are sick and perverse and serve only to further their sick and perverse lifestyle.

Whatever...

 

 

OOPS... MY BAD... A change in tactics... Yet more “bad jokes”...

 

Sooo... I was thinking. Ya know, giving the Saginaw Michigan F.B.I. The symbolic silent treatment in the jokes page is kinda cool to me. Well, sorta. Giving the Schofield Wisconsin P.D. The same or similar treatment somehow diminishes the message I'm sending the SagCops o da F.B.I. (I respect and admire the F.B.I. as a whole, I'm only mocking their “Molestor Friendly” (or is “Molestor Oblivious” better? “Molestor-Employed”?) Saginaw Valley Gang Chapters, I mean Beaureu? Club? Gathering outpost?).

I hereby officially apologize to the Saginaw Valley F.B.I. For diminishing the symbolic value of the jokes I've assigned to them. It's like I'm diminishing their territory of jokes. My bad guys.

Sooo... now how do I symbolize my admiration for all the fine work the Schofield Wisconsin... cops have committed... I err, um, I mean preformed in my humble opinion? Then it occurred to me, that, to be symbolic, I'd make up the most mind-numbingly irritating song I could think up that, if sung in the same tone as the song I'm parodying, would be the most grating irritating song imaginable. Especially if my case should go public and some enterprising person was to sing the song and record it in the same style and using the same pitch as the original.

Schofield Wisconsin and Wausau Wisconsin pets listen & listen well. Imagine this song playing on your radios. Picture the song playing when you enter the room... for... the... rest... of... your... life. IF you should fail to free me. IF...

The song is not meant to reflect the views or beliefs of anyone and is strictly for entertainment purposes only. Kinda like a skydiver saying. I dedicate this skydive to you”. Before his jump. That means it in no way is meant to imply you are a skydiver. It's just a shout out, a tip of the hat acknowledging the fine police work you've committed against me, uhh... I mean preformed in your community. Probably.

It's called. “Child-Molester Cop” and is to be sung in the style of the song. “Basketball Jones”. No need to thank me guys and please don't send me any money. Just knowing you're out there doing to your community what you did to me is reward enough for me. GULP! Enjoy!

Picture a uniformed Bay City Michigan... cop singing this song lovingly to a uniformed Schofield Wisconsin... cop & a Wausau Wisconsin... cop while they gaze adoringly into his eyes. Giggle...

​

Child-Molester Cop, I am a Child-Molester Cop
I am a Child-Molester Cop, oh yeah
My partner's a Child-Molester too
Ever since I was a young Rookie, I be taking bribes
In fact I was the cheapest-bribe taker on all of the force

Then one day the Molesters gave me some cash
And I loved that payoff
I spent that cash in a single afternoon (it wasn't much)

That cash was like everything to me (it wasn't much)
I know the gang kills children (I didn't get paid much)
Maybe that's why I can't sleep at night
I need some help from my brother cops
I need someone to stand beside me
I need morons who will arrest anyone I want for free
A group of morons I can count on
Someone like the Wausau P.D. Who I wont pay a thing
Cause there ain't much cash to spit up
So Molesters give me cash (it wasn't much)
{Child-Molesters sing repeatedly...}
(Child-Molester Cop, oh yeah, chump change payoff)
(We own our Child-Molester Cop for chump change)
{While Chump master Child-Molester sings/speaks)
Yeah that little girl's so sweet
Just look at her

 

To be continued. MAN! Writing about this subject SUCKS!

see'mon Coach Booty, Red Blazer, sing along with me
That be bad, honky
Yeah
I want everybody in the whole stadium to stand up and sing with us
Oh yeah, sing it out like you're proud
All right, everybody watchin' coast-to-coast, sing along with us
Bill Russell, sing along with us
Chick Hearn, sing along with us
Chris Schenkel, don't sing nothin'
Oh, it feels so good
Gimme the ball
I'll go one-on-one against the world, left-handed
I could stuff it from center court with my toes
I could jump on top of the backboard, take off a quarter, leave fifteen cents change I
could, I could dribble behind my back I got more moves than Ex-Lax I'm bad I could
dribble with my tongue Here I go down court, try to stop me You can't stop me 'cause I
got a Basketball Jones Here I come That's my hook shot with my eyebrow Yeah, I could
dunk it with my nose I'm, I'm bad as King Kong, gimme the ball I'm hot, I'm hot as...,
I'm hot as..., I'm hot as... uh Uh, uh, uh, uh
(Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, Basketball Jones)
(Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, Basketball Jones)
(Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, Basketball Jones)
(Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones, Basketball Jones)
{fade}

​

  buttbuddy [ bət/ˈbədē ] Anyone who pretends to be a friend and or employer of their rape victim. example: "We raped him good and told the cops we were buttbuddies so now they're prosecuting our victim! Ha"! 8

​

​

   IN THE THROAT... Another dead child, this one dedicated to the fine police work of the chief's of police in Bay County

  There I was, surrounded in the room in the back of the hall where my local Boy Scouts held their special meetings. A crowd surrounded me with orders to hit me whenever I came near to force a reluctant me to fight. This tale begins at the end. Well, the end of a child's life. I was about 8 or 9 at the time. My opponent towered over me & was about twice my body weight at least. He seemed to fight with an almost dancing style. His fists raised high covering his jaw while he made what I assumed were exaggerated moves hoping a little too & fro to hypnotize opponents into watching his cadence which he could exploit for advantage (in my then, humble opinion).

 What did I do? What I'd been doing. I punched him in the throat whenever the chance presented itself while he stared blankly ahead & made clumsy, seemingly drugged (in my opinion) attacks unsuccessfully against me. THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! THROAT! (Actually, I hit him with lots of throat punches). THROAT! The towering teen went down. THUDD!

  The gang pushed me away at My Cousin's command & hovered over him. My Cousin announced there was nothing we could do for the child. He was going to die.

  Me? I didn't buy it. But when evidence began to mount that the teen was indeed dying I suggested a tracheotomy, cut his throat open to save him.

  My Cousin said no one in the room had any knives. "No weapons allowed". No weapons allowed in the room, lest an unwilling participant like myself somehow get one & escape. Strangely he told me he'd fetch one & let me cut the teen's throat if I wanted to.

  I told my cousin I didn't know exactly where to cut & that I knew a wrong cut would kill him for sure.

  So we watched him die... slowly... We all just stood around... and watched him die... slowly...

  They put his body on a table to the side facing up. As time went on, between the matches I walked over & checked on the teen. He'd grown pale & ice cold to the touch. The crowd angrily threatened me & interposed themselves when I neared him. Promising me revenge for killing their beloved champion & friend.

  My Cousin bragged holding the fight in the same building as the Boy Scouts Meetings made his victim's stories unbelievable to the... cops. But it made financial sense. He needed a building with room for a crowd that was easy to clean up, well lit & with good facilities & the building was all that plus a place that he knew no one would swing by to "accidentally" barge in. Win/win.

  "My Cousin later told me the kid had been getting too cocky & arrogance made him impossible to control. "I thought you'd take him out for me but I didn't think you would kill him". He claimed he just wanted me to take him down a peg.

  Later, a child who'd attended noted the fight was fixed. My opponent had been drugged. When I confronted My Cousin he confirmed he'd drugged the teen. That he was a champion who'd been killing indiscriminately & for fun & wouldn't obey orders on the subject. It was just getting too time consuming to cover up his every killing in matches. Besides, he added. Fixing fights by drugging participants was just how he did business. It was about the money, not about a fair fight. He also noted the teen was not a local citizen.

  I recall pondering the situation at My Mother's Parents. I thought to myself what would I tell Police? I pictured their cross-examination. It was then that I decided I wouldn't report this to the police. Not just yet.

  Well, there you go oh ye infallible Saginaw Valley Chief's of Police. A child died.

  Laugh... cop. Laugh. It IS all any... cop I ever met was good at after all.

​

  JUST AN OLE FASHIONED... CHILD BEATDOWN...Laugh... cop, laugh...

  This IS the "Recap Page". A place where I rehash the old memories of things I felt were needful to do to the men, women, beasts, and even... children in my life from time to time in my childhood. You know, normal childhood kind of stuff. If it isn't normal childhood in America how would I know as I have nothing to compare it to?

  I was myself a child & wrote about this in my +1,5000 page letter to the FBI where someone dies every few pages.

  Today as I sit here basking in poisons, my ever expanded rectum recovering, having endured my last night obligatory 1 & a half hour wake-up, I thought I'd write about what was on my mind. Privately I call it "ruining my life" as it provides me with no enjoyment nor nostalgia. Contrary to popular belief I do NOT want to be known for the acts on my website. The deeds were inflicted on me for reasons of profit & revenge & I take no glory nor satisfaction in anything here. I seek only the truth. Rumor has it the truth will set you free.

  I've chosen a song for this beatdown story, I was just inspired as I typed the above paragraph.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ5lsBPb3fw

  Unlike my other songs I recommended I suggest that the reader play the song softly in the background while they read this tale. It's a story about a few madmen & their ever eager to help 10 foot tall & bulletproof guys on drugs.

  I'd like to write a Duh Jerk quote here he's said to me often while standing smiling over one of his dead or dying victim/members. "I don't care who gets hurt. It's how I beat the cops. They think that if I were a gang leader I'd care about it if my guys get hurt but I don't care who gets hurt". My Cousin had a similar saying. Once when I asked about that saying, how it was he & Duh Jerk used the same saying he told me that he was Jerk's Mentor. He'd taught him everything.

  Me? I used to internally kick myself whenever I asked one of them a question because, frankly, I never believed a word either of them had to say.

THE REHASH...

  Sooooooo... It was summer & I was about 7 or 8 years old when the gang of 12-20 teens & Jocks lead by some jerk told me that My Mother had drugged me & handed me over to them. Like usual they promised I'd have fun but it was agony only. Torment, endless pain, & continuously endless pain. "It's how I beat the cops. All I have to do is act so evil that no one would believe that someone could be so evil & then I can get away with anything". Act nice to a few victims, film a few acts of kindness & contrition on victims to show cops they care, yeah we did that bad stuff to our victim but they made up with us, it's just that pesky filmed pervert who's the trouble maker. You want proof? Look at these films.

  The story took place in a single story country home with the buildings very spread out & far away. Trees occasionally dotted the landscape here & there on all sides. A lone narrow 2 lane road that had virtually no traffic was the only feature that stands out. Inside the house was fully furnished much like if an old couple lived there, just a guess on my part, nothing more.

  Yeah, the new Jerk & his team slapped me endlessly. They laughed when I

fought back for weeks while they worked in shifts to keep me awake. They encouraged me to fight back. My blows were baby hits addled mentally & physically by the drug(s?) they had me on & were largely ineffective. They mocked me when they told me I was on drugs that made their victims weak. I staggered after even minor blows & I'll bet some... cop was practicing his speech somewhere that no one would do something like that to someone even as I type this now, even as you, the Reader are reading this now they are preparing their speech to assure all comers that what I say couldn't possibly be true. Just a guess?

  I think I handed out a few bloody noses, fat lips, & black eyes. Broken bones? A few. Once I marked someone, particularly the face their Leader Jerk dismissed them. They couldn't play anymore. I recall some of them begged to be able to keep "playing" with me. They threatened revenge at what I'd cost them. A month long drug & sex party funded by the Jerk. They were simply replaced with a fresh recruit, an endless supply of willing troops that the Jerk could call upon at a whim.

  When I asked the Jerk he told me that once his guys became marked, especially in the face they became too identifiable for him to comfortably use. So as a matter of business he booted them out if they had a boo boo on their face or wore a splint or a cast because they were no longer just a face in the crowd.

  Me? I advised the Jerk and his team to get their hearts right with God & not to do drugs.

  I recall telling the Jerk the same things. He mocked me all the more during the quiet times between beatdowns when they either adjusted drug dosage levels. Theirs or mine.

  PAIN!!!

  Pain!!!

  pain...

  Time passed... they felt I was "in the sweet spot" mentally from all the torture & deprivation. I drifted in & out of being lucid & openly, on film, treated them like we were lifelong friends between my occasional semi-lucid moments which were occurring much & much less. They told me they took me off of the drugs that addled me. That way I seemed more presentable for films. Like I wanted to be there.

  I recall them injecting me with who knows what? Usually they just asked me to roll up a sleeve & I submitted. Other times they piled on me & drugged me by force when I refused. They bragged usually they just waited for my memory to reset after I refused & then filmed me in a few minutes accepting the doses of whatever drug they were using.

  Then they turned to PRACTICAL jokes for fun. The ultimate goal was to trick me into violence... on film. Did it work? Of course it did, this is just a Recap Story.

  Every once in a while I became semi-lucid & ran off.

  Every once in a while I became semi-lucid & my 1st response was to run to freedom. In minutes marked Police Cars & Ambulances came looking for me & I usually wasn't hard to find with a long sting of teens & Jocks running behind me in tow in the open fields surrounding the country house with only an occasional tree for cover. The Police usually arrested me & returned me to the house. Usually, it was easy to arrest me. My memory had reset because of the drug(s?) & I had no idea where I was or why I was being chased? I also had no explanation to give the nice... cops as to why these nice men & boys were chasing me. I had no idea why they were accusing me of vile things & submitted to arrest to go to the Police Station to "sort this out". So I was arrested without incident.

  The Jerk told me he craved films of me resisting arrest. Then he would own me.

  Me? I recall praying to God for strength. I figured, like usual, that I was going to die, I saw no way I might escape & live AND be free in America. I prayed that I not give that Jerk the films that he craved. Not this time.

  I got quite far a few times. But they caught me every time & dragged me back to the torment.

  Yeah, I involved people. Particularly on a highway & at homes far from the place I was tortured at. But no one believes the 7 year old kid over the... cops & the ambulance drivers. No one. I recall some of the people who'd agreed to help me escape only minutes ago talking about me in the 3rd person with the... cops. who told them I was arrested for good reasons & should be ignored. They stood side by side with my captors laughing at the absurdity of my story & listened to the cop's assurances that they should just ignore everything the civilians had seen.

  The PRACTICAL jokes morphed over time from straight up mundane films of me casually interacting with my kidnappers & slap sessions to social situations where I was subjected to attack! They would mundanely interact with me, on film, and then attack! Yeah, I fought & they usually piled on me & waited for my memory to reset & began again. The PRACTUICAL joke would subtilty morph slightly as they practiced it over & over to get the films that they craved.

  Did people get hurt? Yeah, mostly kids. Are any of you... cops reading this? Picture me snapping my fingers at you. SNAP! SNAP! Children? Hurt? Laugh... cop. Laugh...

  Over time the joke morphed into we began outside the home. Then they encouraged me to enter & piled on me, slapped me up, & repeated hoping to get me to resist the uniformed... cops who quickly showed up. It was all filmed to look like they were just a few friends innocently enjoying each other's company... on film, & mean ole me showed up. Then resisted arrest! Or so they bragged it'd soon look on film.

  Yeah, I prayed during the semi-lucid moments.

  I recall running away time & again. But I was getting more exhausted. I couldn't run as fast or as far. Weeks of no sleep & no food had taken it's toll on me. But I never gave up. I resisted with every lucid moment. In fact it's for this reason that over the years the gang has mocked me that I'm fun to play with. "You always fight. It's expected".

  Standing outside the home I was encouraged to go inside. I recall it was as I walked up to the building I became more semi-lucid than normal. I recalled the ordeal before me & knew that an army awaited me inside. I knew that... cops galore & rescue workers waited nearby & they would convince anyone & everyone that I was to be ignored when I asked for help. Indeed, some might even help... THEM! I thought about what I might do? Run? Rush in & fight? Again? Sure, I was wounding guys occasionally but they were just replaced with an endless horde of even more eager & fresh tormentors.

  I thought I might go in the back? Try to reduce the numbers in a desperate bid for freedom? Then it occurred to me that I'd tried that too & they had positioned a guy with a bat in the back to counter me. Just in case I started to do too well.

  So I figured I'd go after the bat guy. A 16-18 year old jock easily twice my body weight.

  To confuse the troops inside I ran around the building a few times then snuck in the back door. As I suspected the Jock was watching the window for me in the direction I'd feinted & not the door. I snuck up behind the otherwise wholesome-looking teen & easily snatched the bat from him & swung for his head in one smooth stoke! WHACK! Then I kept hitting him. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Over & over for a looooooooong time.

  Then I went inside to confront the horde. I commited some damage, but not as much as I would've chosen to.

  The gang threatened me. The ambulance crew came in moments & remarked it was lucky they were so close of the teen would never have survived.

  The session went on... and on... and on...

  Later... "My Cousin" bragged about how he'd showed his friend films of what they did to me & he'd begged & even paid for the privilege of "playing with me". He smiled as he said he'd trained the man at length just how to torture me so I'd kill anyone so HE could kill anyone he wanted in a way that he could never be prosecuted for. "You killed a lot of people for him. Don't you remember"?

  Yes I did.

  He brought up the teen with the bat. My Cousin said that despite my best efforts I hadn't killed a single one of his friend's guys. But the guy with the bat had been scarred for life. Being scarred about the face means death in the gang. So they planned to kill him, his family would be told why he'd been killed, & I would have an entire family of madmen & women just like the child I'd scarred who would hate me.

  Years later during the last times that I saw My Cousin he told me that Duh Jerk was the leader jerk in question & he used the description of the child who's head I'd beat with the bat as a reference when I told him I wasn't sure of which child he'd meant I'd hurt in that particular conversation. It had been Duh Jerk's  1st act as the rank of a leader in the gang. That Jerk wanted to make his 1st act as a new leader to be as big as possible so he could come onto the gang scene large & in charge with a glorious 1st act that the gang would all respect. Thus the gang (My Cousin) had spared no expense in handing me a very costly PRACTICAL joke. Which was worth it in their opinion when you considered all of the people I killed for them on the side assuring them even the possibility of  facing justice for the injured, the dead, & the dying.

  Every once in a while I asked My Cousin why he did this or that to me?

  "Because I hate you".

​

      NOTE: Next is a tale the gang deletes off my website over & over. Writing

it while under R.E.M. Deprivation Attack is not fun. Nor is writing it the

3rd or 4th time.

​

ASSORTED KILLINGS...Put a kid on drugs, wind'em up, & watch the murderous fun time!!!

  Soooooooo there I was, in what seemed like a modest home. The adults seemed like they were kind & actually interested in interacting with me. Then things went sour. A woman screamed! A violent situation occurred! I fought & the adults whom I sought to protect jumped me from behind. Pinning me to the floor the 4--6 men & women beat me!

  They then told me they'd wait for my drugs to reset my then 7 or 8 year old mind & intended to let me go & do it all over again!

  It was always the same. Kind & mundane interaction, then a violent scene where I'd be subdued violently!

  Rinse...

  Lather...

  Repeat...

  Then we started using guns to play.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Then they jump me & pin my down until my memory resets.

  They like to subtilty vary the scenario each time. Looking to film the perfect frame job film of a dangerous & violent me.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH!

  Time passes, lots of time passes & I'm given no food nor water & drift into a semi-lucid madness. Grrrrrrrrrrrr!

  Rinse

  Lather...

  Repeat...

  The guns were mostly sporting rifles, 9MM pistols, & double barreled shotguns.

  One time I became a little bit more lucid than other times as the drugs wore off. I was tired of trying to reason with my unknown captor's. I was tired of escaping only to be arrested by uniformed... cops with an Ambulance & Crew nearby. The village was all but impossible to escape from. All of the townsfolk I met couldn't wait to hand me off to the... cops for arrest whenever they saw me unattended. Some attacked me themselves & they assisted in my return to the session. They seemed like ordinary people, in their 30s & above. I noted the absence of children. EXCEPT those who attacked me & they never went outside.

  I had enough of failing to escape. I decided to get a little more pro-active on my next escape attempt.

  Soooo... there we were, the gang attacked me with guns in another blank-filled shoot'em up. Me? I killed everyone in the room with my gun & they all just got up & mocked me. "The gun's got blanks in it"! Laugh! Laugh! Laugh!

  I became semi-lucid & plotted another escape. While they laughed at me I walked over to the kitchen drawers & found a junk drawer  with a bunch of nails & metallic odds & ends & loaded them down both barrels.

  I just started killing people to the best of my abilty. Stopping only to reload.

  Satisfied, I chased someone out & lost them. Undaunted I just went to where I suspected they might be & started killing people there too!

  Rinse...

  Later...

  Repeat..

  Toward the end of the tale I generalized, being I'm R.E.M. sleep deprived & really don't care too much at the moment. I wrote it down in much greater detail in my letter to the FBI where someone dies every few pages.

  The way My Cousin explained it to me was it was a small village where everyone was a child molester. Escape was impossible due to the lack of cover & flat terrain. He said I'd shocked everyone when I started walking from house to house killing everyone I found. So they ordered the village evacuated & tried to pin me down in a building by shooting at me. The Townsfolk plan was, as complained about by My Cousin AND them (unusual as My Cousin usually made it a point to debrief me alone), they'd intended to kill me if only for their safety & for revenge. But mostly because they were terrified the entire area threatened to spill out into a huge public involved fiasco. "You were lucky only a few people travelling by got involved". But the... cops they were a comin en-mass & it was then My Cousin decided to use his authority to declare a train derailing had happened. The only problem? No such train existed & he had a horrible time routing to the scene past inspectors & powerful... cops with badges with many questions in the nick of time & it had cost him a fortune in cash & favors owed. The worst part in his opinion? While they staged an elaborate door to door manhunt to get me I lay sleeping comfortably unnoticed on a couch. "Some pillows obscured you". He described the day for him & his team as a sniper warzone terror scene where many, truly good child-molestors had mentally broken down & would require drugs & lengthy counseling which was all going to cost him money. Let alone the dead, the dying, & the maimed.

  He claimed they'd explained it all away by claiming there was a chemical train derailing. That way the general public wouldn't ask too many questions. "You're going to pay for that one". He threatened me. They'd lost a lot of good child-molesters. Real pillars of the child-molesting community had died & everyone wanted revenge. "Now everyone wants revenge! What do you have to say for yourself"? My Cousin demanded me?

  "There would be no one dead if you guys wouldn't drug me & mess with me".

  It's 3-16-22 & I'm tired.

  Whatever...

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  ASSORTED KILLINGS... Passing gas...

  Soooooo there I was, in some small modern as any looking village walking from door to door & killing everyone I found. I walked in & found an elderly couple. So I killed them. It occurred to me to kill the man 1st as he was the greatest threat in my opinion. The woman screamed & begged for her life while I reloaded my more recently acquired weapons". BANG!

  While I walked past a living room window after failing to find anything good to eat in the kitchen they started shooting at me! BANG! BANG! The glass exploded inwards on me. So I returned fire. BANG! BANG!

  We exchanged gunfire a while. Then it got quiet... and boring. I scanned as sneakily as I could outside in a while. I'd never seen a single attacker then or now. My shots had merely been targeted at likely spots a sniper might be at".

  Being I was bored & figured I was pinned down to the front I walked out the back door where I saw a small group of armed & unarmed people gathering at a small gas station about a city block away across an empty highway. They were your average harmless civilian types, mostly in their 30s, 40's, & 70s.

  I listened into the people talking. They were all locals but the armed big guy with a rifle who had the huge 4x4 truck. Apparently there was a madman around nearby shooting at people but nobody knew what he looked like? They said they'd just sent a guy to ask & expected he'd return in a minute or 2 with a description of the guy.

  The people were scared & the chat around the pump was that they had to band together & kill the guy. The big burly manly man with the hunting rifle said he'd keep everyone safe when a woman started crying.

  Me? Since I was the guy with the gun they were openly planning to kill I was at least mildly curious about what they had to say.

  A few said they had guns at home & they were waiting for the guy to return with a description & to keep them covered while they went home & got armed. Then they'd all kill this guy.

  Once one of them pointed to a guy & said that was such & such back with the description they needed I had enough. The guy had driven up on us fast & waved furiously at us like he had something very important to tell us. He was yelling but his engine noise drowned out his shouts he made as he leaned out his driver's side window in the cold.

  I pondered what to do & I didn't see myself as having a lot of options at this point. So at point blank range I just started shooting people...