Littler Brother 2
She left me there.#Zeb had a pizza for me when I got back "home" — to the tent under a freeway overpass in the Mission that he'd staked out for the night. He had a pup tent, military surplus, stenciled with SAN FRANCISCO LOCAL HOMELESS COORDINATING BOARD.The pizza was a Dominos, cold and clabbered, but delicious for all that.
"You like pineapple on your pizza?"Zeb smiled condescendingly at me. "Freegans can't be choosy," he said."Freegans?""Like vegans, but we only eat free food.""Free food?"He grinned again.
It's from the other store. The little one out behind the store? Made of blue steel? Kind of funky smelling?""You got this out of the garbage?"He flung his head back and cackled.
They threw it out in the box. They sprinkle rat poison over everything at closing-time, but if you get there quick, you're OK. You should see what grocery stores throw out! Wait until breakfast.
I'm going to make you a fruit salad you won't believe. As soon as one strawberry in the box goes a little green and fuzzy, the whole thing is out —"I tuned him out.
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If it was gross, that was only because it came from Domino's — the worst pizza in town. I'd never liked their food, and I'd given it up altogether when I found out that they bankrolled a bunch of ultra-crazy politicians who thought that global warming and evolution were satanic plots.It was hard to shake the feeling of grossness, though.But there was another way to look at it.
Zeb had showed me a secret, something I hadn't anticipated: there was a whole hidden world out there, a way of getting by without participating in the system."Freegans, huh?""Yogurt, too," he said, nodding vigorously.
"For the fruit salad. They throw it out the day after the best-before date, but it's not as if it goes green at midnight.
It's yogurt, I mean, it's basically just rotten milk to begin with."I swallowed. The pizza tasted funny.
Actually, Domino's pizza sucked a little less when you got it for free.Liam's sleeping bag was warm and welcoming after a long, emotionally exhausting day. Van would have made contact with Barbara by now.
She'd have the video and the picture. I'd call her in the morning and find out what she thought I should do next.
I'd have to come in once she published, to back it all up.I thought about that as I closed my eyes, thought about what it would be like to turn myself in, the cameras all rolling, following the infamous M1k3y into one of those big, columnated buildings in Civic Center.The sound of the cars screaming by overhead turned into a kind of ocean sound as I drifted away.
There were other tents nearby, homeless people. I'd met a few of them that afternoon, before it got dark and we all retreated to huddle near our own tents.
how it impacts ltrgiuy and should be distinct from other “denominations”….thought one of our goals was to end finally the scandal of a divided Christian church?This, I think, is one of the issues surrounding the understanding of ecumenism and the implementation of ecumenical pastoral initiatives. As a hypothetical, if there were a Catholic Eucharistic ltrgiuy that mimicked a Baptist service, what would that accomplish? Perhaps a Baptist might feel at home there, or a Catholic feel at home at the Baptist service but is there actual unity of faith? What would there be to make the Baptist consider coming into full communion with the Catholic Church if, from his perspective, he can get it all (or at least, what he considers all) in his own community?Put generally, then: if the Catholic Church ends up being able to look like any and every other Christian communion out there, what sense or importance is there to being Catholic or not? (One could go further and ask if it matters what denomination of Christianity one ascribes to or if Christianity matters on a personal level at all.)The early Church stood out, and they paid the price dearly for it, and won the crown of glory by it.As Vatican II (Lumen Gentium describes the situation, there is one Church of Christ, governed by Peter (and his successors), and whatever elements of sanctification and of truth are found outside of its visible structure belong properly to her (the one true Church), and impel these other communities of Christians toward catholic unity. This picture seems to get reversed in some ecumenical endeavors, that the Catholic Church should adopt characteristics from communities outside her visible structure (i.e. become like them) to attain some wider Christian unity.Someone will quote SC 1: to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ. That must be interpreted carefully, lest someone think it means we can just jettison doctrines left and right so that other believers in Christ can feel comfortable calling themselves Catholic with the least effort (conversion) on their part.I think a discussion on ecumenism as found in the documents of Vatican II would be well worth it (Rita).
They were all older than me, rough looking and gruff. None of them looked crazy or violent, though.
Just like people who'd had bad luck, or made bad decisions, or both.I must have fallen asleep, because I don't remember anything else until a bright light was shined into my face, so bright it was blinding."That's him," said a voice behind the light."Bag him," said another voice, one I'd heard before, one I'd heard over and over again in my dreams, lecturing to me, demanding my passwords.
Severe-haircut-woman.The bag went over my head quickly and was cinched so tight at the throat that I choked and threw up my freegan pizza. As I spasmed and choked, hard hands bound my wrists, then my ankles.
I was rolled onto a stretcher and hoisted, then carried into a vehicle, up a couple of clanging metal steps. They dropped me into a padded floor.
There was no sound at all in the back of the vehicle once they closed the doors. The padding deadened everything except my own choking."Well, hello again," she said.
Vomit filled my mouth and trickled down my windpipe."We won't let you die," she said. "If you stop breathing, we'll make sure you start again.
Some was getting through. Deep, wracking coughs shook my chest and back, dislodging some more of the puke.
Welcome home, M1k3y. We've got somewhere very special to take you."I relaxed onto my back, feeling the van rock.
The smell of used pizza was overwhelming at first, but as with all strong stimuli, my brain gradually grew accustomed to it, filtered it out until it was just a faint aroma.
That seems funny that a Big Numbers claimer reads your site with rluigioes fervor. Of course, I too read it with (almost) rluigioes fervor, and my monthly traffic is very low on my site but then I don't claim millions of readers.
The rocking of the van was almost comforting.That's when it happened. An incredible, deep calm that swept over me like I was lying on the beach and the ocean had swept in and lifted me as gently as a parent, held me aloft and swept me out onto a warm sea under a warm sun.
After everything that had happened, I was caught, but it didn't matter. I had gotten the information to Barbara.
And if I hadn't won, I had done everything I could have done. More than I ever thought I could do.
I took a mental inventory as I rode, thinking of everything that I had accomplished, that we had accomplished. The city, the country, the world was full of people who wouldn't live the way DHS wanted us to live.
We'd fight forever. They couldn't jail us all.I sighed and smiled.She'd been talking all along, I realized.
I'd been so far into my happy place that she'd just gone away."— smart kid like you. You'd think that you'd know better than to mess with us.
We've had an eye on you since the day you walked out. We would have caught you even if you hadn't gone crying to your lesbo journalist traitor.
I just don't get it — we had an understanding, you and me..."We rumbled over a metal plate, the van's shocks rocking, and then the rocking changed. We were on water.
Posts like this make the innteert such a treasure trove
They didn't bother with the cuffs at my wrists and ankles, just rolled me off the stretcher and onto the floor. It was dark, but by the moonlight from the single, tiny, high window, I could see that the mattress had been taken off the cot.
The room contained me, a toilet, a bed-frame, and a sink, and nothing else.I closed my eyes and let the ocean lift me. I floated away.
It was humiliating, like being a baby.But I'd survived it.I laughed. The sound was weird, and it drew me back into my body, back to the present.
I laughed and laughed. I'd had the worst that they could throw at me, and I'd survived it, and I'd beaten them, beaten them for months, showed them up as chumps and despots.
I'd won.I let my bladder cut loose. It was sore and full anyway, and no time like the present.The ocean swept me away.#When morning came, two efficient, impersonal guards cut the bindings off of my wrists and ankles.
I still couldn't walk — when I stood, my legs gave way like a stringless marionette's. Too much time in one position. The guards pulled my arms over their shoulders and half-dragged/half-carried me down the familiar corridor.
The bar codes on the doors were curling up and dangling now, attacked by the salt air.I got an idea. "Ange!" I yelled.
"Darryl!" I yelled. My guards yanked me along faster, clearly disturbed but not sure what to do about it.
"Guys, it's me, Marcus! Stay free!"Behind one of the doors, someone sobbed. Someone else cried out in what sounded like Arabic.
Then it was cacophony, a thousand different shouting voices.They brought me to a new room. It was an old shower-room, with the shower-heads still present in the mould tiles."Hello, M1k3y," Severe Haircut said.
How beautiful is that?That God, Who is the Best and Greatest Godabove all other gods,would dgeisn such a thing as Covenant ,and create Us in such a waythat We would long to enter into thatintimate, covenant-relationship with God.He longs to be intimate with Usand that is a sign of His Lovenot only that We would belong to Himand that He could take Us to Himself in Lovebut He wants to enter into dialogue with Usand know what We are thinking.Hatred disguised as Lovewould not operate in this way.It wants to make Us unhappyand make Us believe that no other Love exists.We must break those bonds and secret consentsWe made with Evil when We were once in Its arms.go to: CatholicWarriors.comGod wants Our Happiness.His Love is Unique and Genuine and tailor-made for Each of Us.For thoughts on the Theology of the Body in Homilies givenby Pope John Paul the Greatgo to: CalledToLove.net(then click on the option that would lead you to enter into further listingsof homilies by Pope John Paul II)If you are in need of psychological healinggo to: SaintMichael.net(a website where Catholicism and Psychology meet head on and blendtogether)Thank you for your attention.RebeccaTexas, USA
"You seem to have had an eventful morning." She wrinkled her nose pointedly."I pissed myself," I said, cheerfully. "You should try it.""Maybe we should give you a bath, then," she said.
She nodded, and my guards carried me to another stretcher. This one had restraining straps running its length.
They dropped me onto it and it was ice-cold and soaked through. Before I knew it, they had the straps across my shoulders, hips and ankles.
A minute later, three more straps were tied down. A man's hands grabbed the railings by my head and released some catches, and a moment later I was tilted down, my head below my feet."Let's start with something simple," she said.
I craned my head to see her. She had turned to a desk with an Xbox on it, connected to an expensive-looking flat-panel TV. "I'd like you to tell me your login and password for your Pirate Party email, please?"I closed my eyes and let the ocean carry me off the beach."Do you know what waterboarding is, M1k3y?" Her voice reeled me in.
"You get strapped down like this, and we pour water over your head, up your nose and down your mouth. You can't suppress the gag reflex.
They call it a simulated execution, and from what I can tell from this side of the room, that's a fair assessment. You won't be able to fight the feeling that you're dying."I tried to go away.
There was a tightness in my chest, my eyelids fluttered. I could feel clammy piss on my legs and clammy sweat in my hair.
My skin itched from the dried puke.She swam into view above me. "Let's start with the login," she said.I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut."Give him a drink," she said.I heard people moving.
I took a deep breath and held it.The water started as a trickle, a ladleful of water gently poured over my chin, my lips. Up my upturned nostrils.
It went back into my throat, starting to choke me, but I wouldn't cough, wouldn't gasp and suck it into my lungs. I held onto my breath and squeezed my eyes harder.There was a commotion from outside the room, a sound of chaotic boots stamping, angry, outraged shouts.
The dipper was emptied into my face.I heard her mutter something to someone in the room, then to me she said, "Just the login, Marcus. It's a simple request.
What could I do with your login, anyway?"This time, it was a bucket of water, all at once, a flood that didn't stop, it must have been gigantic. I couldn't help it.
I gasped and aspirated the water into my lungs, coughed and took more water in. I knew they wouldn't kill me, but I couldn't convince my body of that.
In every fiber of my being, I knew I was going to die. I couldn't even cry — the water was still pouring over me.Then it stopped.
I coughed and coughed and coughed, but at the angle I was at, the water I coughed up dribbled back into my nose and burned down my sinuses.The coughs were so deep they hurt, hurt my ribs and my hips as I twisted against them.