..I'll be able to use 'King' longer before we can say or write it..
I fucking done it Daddy!!
"Our father who lived, worked and fought under the identity of Martin Luther King before being betrayed and forced into facilities where he was subject to years of extreme slavery, torture and experiments. Our mother is, like us the product of millenniums of slavery and breeding programs, ancient resistance efforts and war.."
It's in the "about" page though and we wont it written better and bit more finished before we hit publish and thats gonna take a while..
Heading back to the flat in Dundee walking across the field, a bunch of goons grabs us. We were weak and dissociated but not broken and out of it.
"Tell us when you are puttin on that blog that MLK is your Dad."
The four or five of them looked very determined. We weren't in a condition where we needed to bullshit we had no fucking clue. We did find ourself wondering about the accent and where the faces where familiar from.. Edinburgh? No doubt considered "serious dudes" by people who don't care or arn't smart enough to know better.. But the upfront brain didn't even know what an Edinburgh was and was really struggling with basic language skills quite badly for a moment before centering long enough to say anything,
"What?"
Their faces twisted and all but one moved in and we did what we do when we dont know what to do and when we opened our eyes we were on the ground and so were they, but they were gurgling and convulsing and we were okay to get up, be thankful and keep walking.
Sasha was hiding out back in the flat and she could see we were particularly confused and not there looking. Eventually we just came out with it,
"Sasha is Martin Luther King my Dad?"
She had that shocked look people get when someone says something you can't say cause they are listening. We swore under our breath, we really didn't know anything about anything but bits and pieces were coming back and we had the sense that this was normal for us. We waited for whatever was going to happen next. Neither of us saying a word.
The phone rang. Better than a knock at the door. Generally. He didn't sound to high up, we barely got anxious at all the sound of his voice and his words. We told him the truth, that we didn't know anything and some blokes came along and asked us when we were gonna blog about our Dad being MLK and we didn't know what they were on about, then they went for us so we closed our eyes and when we woke up they were all dieing and were still there we could see them lying on the soggy field, it was pretty dreich and misty day. We gathered enough smarts to feel the seriousness in the air and then act like we were completly oblivious to it and said it was probably just some shit to confuse us and make us look like a liar or mad person. We weren't sure if he was buying it but he did seem to want to call to be over.
After we handg up me and Sash exchanged a bloody hell that was close/oh shit/omg things might change type look and went back to some nice silence and peace for a while. Think she curled up next to us and had a nap and we watched her sleeping and fantasied, planned and thought very deeply about war, war, war.. marriage, war..
That programmer that ended up with a one of Bill's carving knife through his brain. He was a regular to us and the room, he was like once a week because it was the only way they could keep us down. The rings were tattered anyway. We faked the call to the English masters pretending to be their boss and saying he was needed elsewhere and that someone else was taking care of us and they should not worry about it and not ask questions.
Lots of Scots increasingly desperate to get rid of us before the English found out he had died on their watch and it was years later and we were doing so much better without him and whatever he had on us when we had to use it to get the Scots to back off by making out that we accidentally let is slip to the English that the Scots had not only let it happen but had encouraged us as part of their Satanic National Socialist Scotland plans which we were very real but much less possible without the prick with the knife through his head but the bosses weren't gonna know how much said prick had been manipulating them and working with the Scots for his own interests and tastes.
They were not happy. Standing in the bedroom with me on the bed but it's Fintry now and not Skene or somewhere even worse saying it was out fault there wasn't going to be an independent Scotland like the vote hadn't been effectively determined centuries ago. Every murder, every discloser and we were less and less dissociated around them and was more and more able to see them for the pathetic powerless tools they were. Think we maybe took that time to tell that a good few of the voices of authority that had been given them information, instructions and mind control help to keep them dissociated and following orders had been us. Most of them laughed it off like they laugh everything of but we felt it, a chill go through some of the less experienced members that it was entirely possible and in the some of the longer termers.. a sense of having heard this before before loosing their concentration... We were so glad we were awake to watch the the cracks spread.
The women that were there were still thinking their ring within a ring within a ring was all kinds of powerful with their oh so secret rich white male and anxious black slaver support that they had access to us that no one else had. They started questioning that more when things with Elaine and Jacqui and us didn't go as planned and we hacked one of their disgusting wetware systems and made her run into a wall with a knife pointed at her chest and made her teenage boy companion who still acted under her orders even after that happened in front of him to clean up.
Our efforts to get our Scottish and other slave parts to take our own powers more seriously and be less phobic of it all really got somewhere that night.
I don't know how many Scottish, British, American, Russian and others have told us they will kill Pablo is we say or publish about the whole MLK being our Dad thang and what they did to him. We got to though and many of them said they would do the same if we didn't give out today's date and not many got it, if any and we are both still here. Besides as always we can't keep our self or him safe by following white power and slaver orders.We certainly wont get Sonny back or make it possible for me to see my husband that way either.
*breathes*
"Our father who lived, worked and fought under the identity of Martin Luther King before being betrayed and forced into facilities where he was subject to years of extreme slavery, torture and experiments. Our mother is, like us the product of millenniums of slavery and breeding programs, ancient resistance efforts and war.."
It's in the "about" page though and we wont it written better and bit more finished before we hit publish and thats gonna take a while..
Heading back to the flat in Dundee walking across the field, a bunch of goons grabs us. We were weak and dissociated but not broken and out of it.
"Tell us when you are puttin on that blog that MLK is your Dad."
The four or five of them looked very determined. We weren't in a condition where we needed to bullshit we had no fucking clue. We did find ourself wondering about the accent and where the faces where familiar from.. Edinburgh? No doubt considered "serious dudes" by people who don't care or arn't smart enough to know better.. But the upfront brain didn't even know what an Edinburgh was and was really struggling with basic language skills quite badly for a moment before centering long enough to say anything,
"What?"
Their faces twisted and all but one moved in and we did what we do when we dont know what to do and when we opened our eyes we were on the ground and so were they, but they were gurgling and convulsing and we were okay to get up, be thankful and keep walking.
Sasha was hiding out back in the flat and she could see we were particularly confused and not there looking. Eventually we just came out with it,
"Sasha is Martin Luther King my Dad?"
She had that shocked look people get when someone says something you can't say cause they are listening. We swore under our breath, we really didn't know anything about anything but bits and pieces were coming back and we had the sense that this was normal for us. We waited for whatever was going to happen next. Neither of us saying a word.
The phone rang. Better than a knock at the door. Generally. He didn't sound to high up, we barely got anxious at all the sound of his voice and his words. We told him the truth, that we didn't know anything and some blokes came along and asked us when we were gonna blog about our Dad being MLK and we didn't know what they were on about, then they went for us so we closed our eyes and when we woke up they were all dieing and were still there we could see them lying on the soggy field, it was pretty dreich and misty day. We gathered enough smarts to feel the seriousness in the air and then act like we were completly oblivious to it and said it was probably just some shit to confuse us and make us look like a liar or mad person. We weren't sure if he was buying it but he did seem to want to call to be over.
After we handg up me and Sash exchanged a bloody hell that was close/oh shit/omg things might change type look and went back to some nice silence and peace for a while. Think she curled up next to us and had a nap and we watched her sleeping and fantasied, planned and thought very deeply about war, war, war.. marriage, war..
That programmer that ended up with a one of Bill's carving knife through his brain. He was a regular to us and the room, he was like once a week because it was the only way they could keep us down. The rings were tattered anyway. We faked the call to the English masters pretending to be their boss and saying he was needed elsewhere and that someone else was taking care of us and they should not worry about it and not ask questions.
Lots of Scots increasingly desperate to get rid of us before the English found out he had died on their watch and it was years later and we were doing so much better without him and whatever he had on us when we had to use it to get the Scots to back off by making out that we accidentally let is slip to the English that the Scots had not only let it happen but had encouraged us as part of their Satanic National Socialist Scotland plans which we were very real but much less possible without the prick with the knife through his head but the bosses weren't gonna know how much said prick had been manipulating them and working with the Scots for his own interests and tastes.
They were not happy. Standing in the bedroom with me on the bed but it's Fintry now and not Skene or somewhere even worse saying it was out fault there wasn't going to be an independent Scotland like the vote hadn't been effectively determined centuries ago. Every murder, every discloser and we were less and less dissociated around them and was more and more able to see them for the pathetic powerless tools they were. Think we maybe took that time to tell that a good few of the voices of authority that had been given them information, instructions and mind control help to keep them dissociated and following orders had been us. Most of them laughed it off like they laugh everything of but we felt it, a chill go through some of the less experienced members that it was entirely possible and in the some of the longer termers.. a sense of having heard this before before loosing their concentration... We were so glad we were awake to watch the the cracks spread.
The women that were there were still thinking their ring within a ring within a ring was all kinds of powerful with their oh so secret rich white male and anxious black slaver support that they had access to us that no one else had. They started questioning that more when things with Elaine and Jacqui and us didn't go as planned and we hacked one of their disgusting wetware systems and made her run into a wall with a knife pointed at her chest and made her teenage boy companion who still acted under her orders even after that happened in front of him to clean up.
Our efforts to get our Scottish and other slave parts to take our own powers more seriously and be less phobic of it all really got somewhere that night.
I don't know how many Scottish, British, American, Russian and others have told us they will kill Pablo is we say or publish about the whole MLK being our Dad thang and what they did to him. We got to though and many of them said they would do the same if we didn't give out today's date and not many got it, if any and we are both still here. Besides as always we can't keep our self or him safe by following white power and slaver orders.We certainly wont get Sonny back or make it possible for me to see my husband that way either.
*breathes*
