View Full Version : ** The Mist **
March 30th, 2003, 01:02 PM
Originally posted by Hereford Eye
...Either we interrupted the cafeteria with our presence or we broke up the annual meeting and picnic of the 3 feet high people. Did you get a good look at any of them? I just had a glimpse of brown skin and dark hair and lots of back sides."
"Actually, you both are intruding!" The attractive female and the redneck both turned and glared at the new stranger. He was lean though powerful looking, tall without seeming to tower over others. A nice head of gray hair. A slight scar along one side of his forehead gave him character and a bit of a mysterious air. "If you two wouldn't mind leaving by whatever means you got here, I'd appreciate it. But you are definitely intruding!" He stood there and waited for them to leave.
March 30th, 2003, 01:58 PM
What the hell has gone wrong with the world? My mother raised me - actually it was watching my dad treat my mother - to treat everyone, especially women, with some kind of respect until they prove they're not worth it and neither of these clowns has the first idea of civility.
"Oh, excuse, your high and mighty boss. I assume someone died and left you king of the world? You certainly didn't get the job because of brains. If you were listening at all you heard me say I wandered in through a mist and this - sorry, fella, we haven't got around to exchanging business cards yet - guy just related a similar story.
So, let me start over again, again. Where are we, who are those little people who just scattered to the 4 winds, and why do you feel it necessary to tell us where to go?"
You know, I felt like I should stamp my foot there to emphasize the point but, fortunately, I still control some things. Also unfortunately, it isn't my head. I could feel the slant it took, nothing major, just enough so few strands of hair fell across my face and I had to push them away. Talk about you basic - hello, there's a woman here!!! ploy. Ugh!
March 30th, 2003, 06:15 PM
The tall man was barely able to contain the laughter he felt for the woman standing defiantly in front of him, running off at the mouth. Though she was very shapely and easy on the eyes, he had sworn off being affected by female charms after the last disastrous affair. He looked at her eyes and the stern set of her jaw and realized that she was distraught at something. Possibly the other man, the redneck, had been following her with unwanted attentions.
But she had also made a valid point, his manners had escaped him, though through many years of good reasons. Finally he decided she was due an answer.
"This is my sanctuary at Barrage de Lagdo, Cameroon. And those little people you scattered to the 4 winds are refugee orphans from Nigeria. They are only children but have seen so much violence in their lives, they look like small adults. And the reason I feel that I can tell you to go, is that I own this land, and I will not have unwanted or uninvited guests upsetting my children. So unless either of you can cook, clean, provide medical assistance, or just plain love and caring, then I have every right to tell you to get the hell off my land."
There was a strained moment of silence where none spoke, then the tall man said "My name is Gabriel. You're welcome to some water and nourishment before you leave my mountain. The trail is that way!" He pointed to a thick stand of trees which looked exactly like all the other stand of trees surrounding the idyllic village. He turned and headed towards the main thatched roof mud building.
March 30th, 2003, 06:54 PM
Take a quick look at the man who hasn't said a word, shrug, and turn to follow the boss.
Gabriel, eh? Owns the land, feeding kids. Sounds like 30 years ago all over again. Black not brown but the problem sounds the same. Move quicker to catch up with the guy. Must think he's a general the way he turns his back on people.
"Hey, Gabriel, slow down. Some of us don't have long legs and some of us are wearing riding boots, not hiking boots."
"You want to be mad at the world, feel free. Just quit making assumptions cause you know what they're the mother of."
Damn fool don't slow down for anybody. Probably wins the most popular philanthropist award every year. "Hey, you, Gabe. This is....earth calling" Gonna need a name, I guess. Keep it simple, Danielle. "My name's Danielle, most folk call me Danny."Been more than 40 years since anyone called me that. You think you got a monopoly on cooking, cleaning, providing medical assistance, or just plain love and caring,We raised two children of our own, dammit. Guess I can't properly lay claim to that here. "Oh, that medical care part. I know band aids, okay?" Won't hurt to try once more.
"DAMMIT, you son of a bitch, SLOW DOWN!!"
March 30th, 2003, 07:01 PM
"Don't call me a son-of-a-bitch! Only my closest enemies call me by my proper name. So are you staying to help these children or not? I don't have time to care for a would-be princess! We need everything done around here. Cooking, cleaning, bathing, teaching, and mostly medical care and loving. So get off your fancy ways, grab some work clothes from the public closet and find yourself something to do, Danielle!" As he growled out his orders he would stop and check a child's arm wound or throw them up in the air to hear them giggle. But with these two new strangers, he was far from civil.
She's too damned prissy to be a Dannie! I give her less than a day before she starts crying over her manicure or the heat and humidity.
March 30th, 2003, 07:11 PM
He's sooo clever1 How many times in one century can that line be used? His platoon sergeant would teach him just how wrong he is. Picking up kids is something I know how to do. You reach down, pick them up, throw them up......35 pound kids weigh a whole lot more here than they do at home! Managed not to kill the girl but she's running like hell as far away from me as she can get. Isn't that the most precious scowl you've ever seen? Does he think I did that on purpose?
Yeah, I guess he does. ****! ****! ****!
"Don't need work clothes. Flannel and denim work fine. The boots will stand up to anything you got do around here except maybe for the 100 yard dash you seem to be running."
"Where do you need the most help and where's the can?"
March 30th, 2003, 07:29 PM
Flannel and denim may work fine where you're from, lady, but here just along the 10th latitude above the equator, you're gonna need something a little more.....uh.....a little less......uh just change into something cooler for gods sake and leave me alone!
SUPERVISORS! We have two newbies. Someone show these mutts what to do and the little one needs to know where the can is, for gods sake, someone show her the outhouse!
March 30th, 2003, 07:56 PM
Okay, he may have a point about the flannel. Something cooler makes sense. But the denims stay. Wore denims every day in the Sonoran desert, played football and basketball, did every damned thing in denims. They stay!
Big old strong man thinks I've never seen an outhouse before. Gimme a break, dude. Is it cause I'm not someone who knows him well enough to call him a son of a bitch? Or is it this other little matter? Seen dudes hazed before, I can live with that. Got it coming till I know the ropes but shouldn't he oughta check? He is real damned proud of his assumptions, isn't he?
So, the outhouse. You could see it coming, couldn't you. Don't even have corn cobs around. So there I am staring at the hole. Yep, first habit is to undo the bottom three buttons. But even as I was doing that I knew that wasn't gonna work. So, I undid "em all and lowered the underwear - don't want to admit I was wearing panties - and stared at the hole.
Now, I figure I could mount the boards and squat but knowing me one of two things would happen. Them damned boots would slip - boot leather slips easy - or I fall off and break my neck. I didn't want to have to explain either. To make a long story short, I set. But then I had new problem that has to do with clearing the last few drops. You can picture it, I'm sure. Used the tail of my flannel shirt.
I think I'm gonna love this place!
March 30th, 2003, 08:08 PM
Gabriel was laughing so hard, he was bent over double when Danielle came out of the outhouse. Quickly, he straightened and shooed his "supervisors" away, and wiped the laugh off his face. As she strode up to him, confident in every way, he said politely "I think I will assign you to the nursery ward. But be prepared, there are some horrendous injuries in there. After all, the fighting in Nigeria is some of the most barbaric in the world. The things people do to each other in the name of religion is beyond me."
As he talked he was walking her towards the smallest of the cabins and crying babies could be heard. Just as she was about to enter, Gabriel snapped his fingers and said "Next time, why don't you use the indoor bathrooms provided in the main cabin." He turned and laughed all the way back across the small compound. Even the children laughed, though they knew not why.
March 30th, 2003, 08:20 PM
Okay, one for the dude, or as my daughter used to say, one for the dudette. Had that coming. All dudes do. That was the easy part.
Now comes the hard part. I enter the cabin behind Gabe only someone in touch their feminine side would call this guy Gabriel. They are there and I am impressed with the gentleness he displays. I move to a bed and look at the child resting there and the tears start flowing. The child looks up and lifts her arms and I move to pick her up. The scars are still open, the compresses not hoolding all the seapage of pus and blood. She throws her arms around my neck I holds on - for dear life. And I hus her back and she smells of rubbing alochol and methalatum and god know what else. Her arms relax and I put her back in the bed.
"That was good," he says, but that's not what you're here for.
I'm a patient man, a tolerant man, but I just had about all I can stand I started that swing from my hip and he only just barely saw it coming and only just barely slid his head out of the way so that I scraped my nuckles on his unshaven face and his matted hare and broke the damn skin.
I'm gonna love this place.
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