FigLeafe

From across this grey land...

(Dead but dreaming)

FATTY FAT

There once was a FATTY FAT who liked to camp,
He Laid down prone with his nub in the sand,
When they found him there he was all sprawled out
Neat and tied around him empty wrappers of burgers;
alongside a pile of smoked-up or chewed on cigar ends.
Around mid day it was and the sun smiled down on him.
The sweat pearls where starting to drip from his forehead.
His poor nub all worn out and shrunk from the heat,
itching in pure agony and soar from the weapons grease.
“Oh sweet heavens!” the ‘first' one shouts a bit stunned.
Pity, they did have not; nor fear was in there faces!
Only shame and shock FATTY FAT could read in they dirty faces!
As quick and quiet as he could, in only a blink of an eye
FATTY FAT got hold of his enormous gun,
“Holly shit…!” where the only words that escaped the ‘second’ one.
Swift and unmerciful entered one bullet the ‘first’ ones head
And popped out in a violent gush of blood and brains.
His body fell over like a fallen tree and hit hard the sand.
A site of terror, a site of disgust under the eye of the watching sun!
Like a sack of rocks felt the ‘second’ one on his knees,
“….Not my life..!” he begged, “…not like this!” he cried!
“…I’m still only a wee young lad!” he pleaded “…everything, but not my life!”
Aware of any possible tricks, FATTY FAT moved closer to his pray.
Ready to counter attack any wrong move he judged his prisoner.
A sudden chill settled down on the emptiness of the landscape,
Even the eastern autumn wind unravelled faint mysteries of forgotten days.
The ‘second’ ones body started to shake and tremble as the cold sets in.
Like a pillar of shire strange stood FATTY FAT emotionless in the scene.
“Anything,….Everything…you ask for I will do willingly!” ,
In growing distress; the ‘second’ one could only brought forward.

17/12/06 by Tarek von Bergmann

.......
End of Part one
...to be continued one day...