Red Hose Down – The Beginning

5 Oct

blood_moon_JRAmazing how a little thing like a big hose down can wake people up. Sound asleep when it happened to me, but as soon as I turned the blue ink into digital code that could be read en masse, the hose down became public property. Just to show that in these here democracy only demons have property rights.

To continue the last episode of ‘Wsup with NBP’, yet to keep it short and sweet. This is the blood moon part. Not hanging from a platform in the sky, but one that I found staring back at me after I got away from the brutal civil men, and could rid myself of chemically enhanced clothing. Men are thus warned, women to pay close attention. Demon hunters may also want to skip this episode. Blue hose down was about brown-ish water blasting at me from a platform in the blurred blue sky. “God Is that You?” No, savant idiot. It is the govern-your-mind delivering more austerity gifts. Someone high up had ordered a hit.

The hose down and embarrassment were enough harm, but there was more. Illness and blood. The illness I battled the next few days not surprising. There had been a white shell of a dead fish in the water desperately trying to get ashore. I took it as ample warning to not even get my feet wet in the sewer canal. Ha. By the time the fire men were done with me, only my feet were dry. The death of my waterproof sneakers. And no shower with cleansed canal water, hot enough to get the ill off me. I had to decline partaking in the fringes of this hostile society for a while. No more sight-seeing along the sewer canal. Instead, a bloody mystery to solve.

Colorado Fire ManBlood. My pants got decorated with a bloody moon from the inside out. An internal bleeding? Proof of my body hating the dirty water even more than my mind. Adrenaline makes one oblivious to pain, so it was hard to tell what gave way. Did some stitches from an operation years before finally come undone? Did the secretly implanted microchip finally move? Or bonus menses? Any who saw this blood moon – and the ridicule on another site showed it to be the case – would do as the prole norm dictates and only think to accuse the victim of not taking care of her menses. “Eww” or *smirk*. As I am with the “eww” crew myself, I was not pleased upon seeing this moon. Insult to injury.

Even after I knew it could not be menses, I looked for proof of menses. Who got me to believe that mensus could occur more than once? The experts called doctors. Agents in white frocks. People we have to be nice to, because they can cut us up, drug us down, and get paid for it. When in ill, we are to willingly pay for their further abuse. Brainwashed into believing that they are the gods to save us. Sure, save us from our money. They also got bills to pay, you know? While they push poison or placebos on us, their children get set up for only the best mixture of drugs. Access to an endless supply of test dummies to pay for it. Damn the dumb womens.

WTF Why touch itWhy did I only bleed at the water side? This blood splatter was the only one. Absent when sitting down, and no repeat after discovery. It had been one insane spurt that I can only link to jumping up. An internal bleeding that was bad enough to cause leakage under dire pressure. It was a problem that I had complained about ever since an accident. The assistant doctor had her mind set on giving me a Tetanus shot and I was sent home with a Band-Aid. The doctors had only been invested in ignoring my complaints. For me to go away, no damages paid. The first hit that I could tie to several tentacles of the system. Able to survive, but forced to stay away from their white corporate Helland.

Blood. Where. From. I had gone to enormous lengths to change my diet so it would at least not aggravate the problem. A meager solution, but it worked better than looking at doctors coming up with their robbing-hood game theories. I had to bleed out of all my money before I could stop taking them seriously. The last time I saw a bunch of these white robed thieves, I found myself looking at actors trying to hypnotize me into doing whatever nonsense they were commanding. Is that not what got me in trouble in the first place?! Instead of despairing yet another return of the problem, to realize that it had never ended. It only takes a big little pressure, or a little big hose down, to show up again. As if it got programmed in, and gets activated by anyone with the right password, or machinery for a hose down.

Jigoku - Buddhist PaintingNo need to go bother those white pete in white cloaks. I had bled all the money I had and then some, to watch insane white pete get away with legalized robbery. Using hypnosis, and threatening with scalpels and drugs as back-up. Babbling sour words of blame. Such a shame that I understood ever more of their medical babble. Exposing the power they use to get us to comply. The only answer they have, is to put me into deeper sleep. What took me way too long to understand is that they could recognize a hit ordered by their hidden society when they saw one walk in. So, in spite of all their siren calls this year, I stayed clear away from their caves. Who knows what ill they had been saving for me? They can keep it.

Blood. To solve whatever I could. I got to master the bloodletting through limiting my diet, but I have been forced to do some try-outs with gen-tech food as I am to enter the corporate cave again. Once in, white pete leaves no room for you to get your bearings. Forced to perform as if you have been working there as a manager for years already. One of their sharper tools is lunch. Wait. Lunch? What had I been eating? Allison (organic whole wheat) bread, cheese (cow snot, gen-tech corn, and antibiotics – yet I still got ill), and… chocolate (organic) vla. Vla? Yeah, v-l-a. Even though I like the feel and taste of it, it does not fit in my diet. I eat chocolate vla only about once a year.

keith-allen-phillips-messy-6-skeptical Vla! The most of the bloody moon was as brown as the chocolate vla. Undigested chocolate vla. It had somehow leaked right through my digestive system, and had squirted out right along with some blood. That makes for two problems. One. Bloodletting. Two. Not digesting. And guess what, I told those imposters in white frocks years ago, but my Black lives did not matter to them. I was to stay away and go heal my imaginary problems somewhere else. As I was unable to comply with their sick command, I got hypnotized to believe that I got extra mensus, and that my colon was getting blocked like a kitchen drain for no good reason the agents in white could make up. And the govern-your-mind happily set up a system of payment of the hyperinflated bills through the judiciary branch.

No room for complaints. Patients treated like the criminals they are. All incorporated branches and robes get paid, while the victim continues to bleed. They can fine me all they want, but every bill they send, I take as a request for another article on their practices. Corporate pyramid scams everywhere, and they ordered another hit to keep me out of it. I was to be a victim, not a culprit. I got tested, but not protected, and they concluded that I was not good enough to fit in. Get rid of her. To claim to have any rights was to get attacked. Get rid of her! I did not take to the 60 guilder tests. Get rid of her!! I got away from the 10,000 guilder and 10,000 euro traps. Get rid of her!!! So, how can they ever pin the 6 million scam on me?! Why is she still here?!

Water Bearer - Bonnie Luria Because you are not the god of me.
Blue and Red are below me. I am Black.
A mighty fine woman at that. For as long
as you owe me, you cannot own me.

To keep it short is to end the babble right here. Next part The Black Book remains under construction. I need to wrestle Too Much Black first, while I inch back into the next – but remarkably looking a lot like the same old – cave. I have no choice left, as I need much paper to get a waterproof wardrobe. Ever more robes.


2 Responses to “Red Hose Down – The Beginning”

  1. Kushite Prince October 6, 2015 at 6:16 am #

    “Because you are not the god of me.
    Blue and Red are below me. I am Black.
    A mighty fine woman at that. For as long
    as you owe me, you cannot own me.”
    Very powerful words!

  2. No Black Pete October 11, 2015 at 2:59 pm #

    Thanks, Prince.

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