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Head of The Table Time for change
Tear down those curtains they are all dusty and peasant like!... You… I want those windows clean and I better find my car washed or else… who left the coffee maker uncovered!... Reinvention, old torn down, years in the making replaced, it was time for change and about time because this was historical embodiment of the Hitler reign, no more past crap it’s boring, predictable, time his own reign stood up. With the notion of remaking everything from the ground up, construction workers worked overtime day and night, taking shifts and 20 minutes break after every four hours, against the WHO health care program but within Brian’s turf throw that bullshit to the trash. Whereas the interior was renovated full time, clear expensive glass widows, digitalized security systems, modern automated doors, a pool wide enough for a trailer to park and depth sea divers are authorized, was in work outside. Simply put there was nothing short of the constant daily vibration of mechanical engines, the tox
Head of The Table Loyalty or reputation?
No calls, no emails, not even a f*****g whisper in the air of just what the hell happened, it was just…silence… all communications were cut. Sure at this point they all drew to conclusions, he bailed on them, no he back stabbed them, no probably his sick or there is some troubled delays, both pessimists and optimists clamped in groups of two’s and three’s enclosed in the boardroom meeting room although with no furniture just broken woodwork, rotten timber and wrapped tangled bundles of rusted binding wire. They gave ideas each based on their base of view and surprisingly was no idea was not possible all had a chance that maybe it was true, so they murmured, threw insults to those who rejected and praises to those who said aye, to spice up they went the old fashion way, the old tradition hand count, “all in favor raise your hands…”, but unfortunately it was all short of time wasting and a premature child play because the man of the hour walked in. He walks over dead skulls, a mighty s
Head of The Table On your own
4 layers of concrete, a feet high, 3 walls, those on the side built and gave birth to more identical, the other faced the east with only a small high placed cube like hole with four smelted in iron bars each two finger sized thick, the entrance, a half foot wide automatic cell door, around 10 bars equally spaced with extra lead making it impossible to cut well unless you have a chainsaw. Now that’s one cell, from ground floor to around three more blocks up, and around 10 cells per block, add another four similar blocks that makes…yah that’s more than 50 cells and each cell has two inmates that’s more than 100 inmates. So the Madagascar Penitentiary State Prison houses all these and still incoming inmates and adding the staff members, wardens, doctors, the owner of this rehabilitation state, that’s around 200 people in this 100acre institution. Now imagine, all these inmates, 100+ to be rehabilitated members of the society, break out, mayhem, chaos to nothing short of insecurity and c
Head of The Table Doctor you high
“Suicide…me suicide…you high doc cut down the weed it’s messing your work now.” Ben chuckled slightly as he took another sip of Alfred’s afternoon latte, mhhhh! He sighed gladly as he inhaled the steaming wave like vapor circling around the white office coffee mug labeled Big D. Me, kill myself, his as high as f**k! Ben chuckled again only this time inwardly, but based on the circumstances and turn of events it’s either his high or I actually did try to kill myself. After he recollected himself and still dazed by the sudden new environment, the drawers clamped together in wheels, needle wrappers scattered all around the bin at the edge of the door, capsules in jars gathered and placed on nailed wooden benches on the office walls, so if he makes it all up, his in the prison ward. How did he get there? Well Alfred explained it to him, everything, the ferocity, the chaos, the ear disturbing shrieks, the constant cursing, all of it…but somehow he still was in disbelief and instead of tal
Head of The Table In the oven
Gabapentin…Albuterol…aaaah! Here it is epidural steroid injection, old man Giddy was back, inmate number 402 he was referred in the system, just like all fellow men in orange he too was a felony regarded by the government as an A class offender. And just like any other man he had to satisfy his monstrous erotic behavior, but this wasn’t the States penitentiary where inmates could call in their partners and help themselves out…hell no!...here only two ways to help yourself out, one, if option A fails sure you can use the alternative hole, and by that is every being has that butthole for excretion purposes but here that wasn’t the only purpose. Sensitive nerves around the hole ensure that if it was used for other purposes apart from the assigned excretion it guarantees the same satisfaction a vagina would give. So that’s the first option though not every inmate was a fan for it, see in prison more so this one… having a d**k shoved inside your butthole deprives your manliness, basically
Head of The Table Cobra
Diphenhydramine…aka the death pill…down the streets many local crooks went rampage robbing man and child, beggars weren’t safe and if any one brought a scuffle…pooof! They disappeared…so cops too feared crooks. But an old dictator…was it Hitler…law can be bent not broken, so the crooks were bending a malleable concrete enforced unbreakable brute force of strength and intelligence. After a month of chaotic gangster and crime regime cops were no longer the nice guys…sometimes if you can’t jail a crook how bout killing them…no that’s illegal how bout making them disappear, that’s not against the law is it? So one by one, crooks were cuffed and brought in stations crowded in cells fattening them like a cow in spring. Coffee, they loved it, two hours after a crook was arrested they would be escorted in king style, waist carried ruthlessly and violently barely on the ground with your tip toes and rushed being swung like a bowling ball smashing desks and walls till barged in the inspector off
Head of The Table Just a talk
Constitution act 44B…circumstances an inmate can be released under heavily armored and guarded security, “When visiting a family relative” page 456 out of 1k plus pages, on the right leaf at the far right in bold. Many think that since this act is in the law book, means it’s effective like inmates, so when an uncle dies…or an aunt…or at times an uncle to a friend of your father’s brother…complicated ties to basic blood bonds, inmates cook up new family bonds every day sending countless paper scribbled notes filling the state prison owner Mr. Mark office with a pile some of baby child hand writings, some readable some not. That’s the thing with the law…if every day this act was passed across this mountain of demands every day then the prison may run out of inmates since every day they would be taking planned trips to long lost relatives who in most cases they don’t f*****g, so there’s a catch a hook that makes all these inmates hard work of scribbling they’re two year old English adding
Head of The Table Bull fighting
Yanagi Sang, founder of the Yanagi crime society or how he likes to call it the white pigeons quite a funny name many think, but that’s because they don’t know just how this name came up. Well no different from Cobra, Yanagi too started from the ground the only difference was unlike Cobra who never knew wealth till he turned five, Yanagi was the lineage of a befallen prince. His father, Klaus Sang, a foreigner encrypted his foreign ways with those of the Korean was deemed unworthy after helping the Sang family build a billionaire dollar earning business monthly thanks to Klaus’s idea on the best way to go around selling drugs in the inhabited places of Middle North Korea. Pigeons…weighing less than an average sized LED remote, with an average population 80% of the country’s pigeon in this area alone meaning on every tree parch, treetop…one was bound to see a puffy, feathery, two side eyed creature hooting over and over. Now that it’s proven pigeons are twice the population of the inh