Day care in salisbury md: THE Top 10 Daycares in Salisbury, MD | Affordable Prices

Опубликовано: April 26, 2020 в 11:12 am

Автор: alexxlab

Категории: Miscellaneous

THE Top 10 Daycares in Salisbury, MD | Affordable Prices

Daycares in Salisbury, MD

Description:

Our mission at the Christian Community Child Care Center is to provide local working families with affordable, quality childcare in a Christian setting. We, the staff at the Christian Community Child CareCenter, are committed to continuous education to sharpen our skills to meet the individual needs of each child. It is our purpose to create interesting and inviting areas of learning to enable the children to learn as small children do, through play….

Description:

Mitchell’s Martial Arts Child Care Program is a state-licensed daycare provider that offers karate classes, before and after-school care, and summer programs. The company also offers birthday party services.Mitchell’s Martial Arts Child Care Program can enroll and take care of 92 children on a full-time basis….

Description:

KIDZ KAMPUS Home Daycare has openings for ages 2 – 12. Meals and snacks are provided. Private pay or purchase-of-care accepted. We are serving Salisbury Shore-Up, Chipman Elementary, and Glen Avenue SchoolDistricts….

BUTTONS & BOWS INC

1315 Old Ocean City Rd, Salisbury, MD 21804

Costimate: $132/wk

Description:

Buttons and Bows located in Salisbury Maryland is a childcare center and education provider that offers a nurturing environment to children under its care. It provides comprehensive early childhood programs forchildren. The school has a capacity of 377 children at the maximum and serves clients from Mondays through Fridays….

Description:

Stepping Stones Learning Academy, Inc. is a child care and educational facility located at 721 S Schumaker Drive, Salisbury, Maryland. It caters to children age two through 12th grade, providing a comprehensivecurriculum including music, art, drama and Spanish. The school’s operating hours is from 6:30 AM to 6:00 PM, weekdays. …

Description:

Sonshine Family Daycare is a family owned and operated daycare facility. They put child’s needs first and provide a loving, nurturing, and safe environment for the little one. The facility incorporates learningexperiences with fun activities. They want children to embrace education and enjoy themselves while doing so….

Description:

King’s Kids Academy located in Salisbury, MD is a licensed child care facility that serves children ages six weeks to twelve years old. The center offers comprehensive child care, tutoring, summer camp, andbefore and after school care programs that strive to teach children character building, respect, and self-worth….

Description:

Bundles of Joy University is a childcare center located in Salisbury, Maryland. It offers programs focused on every child’s social, emotional, physical, intellectual, and language development. It provideschildren with as structured learning environment that includes play. The center offers Infant & Toddler Program, Preschool Program, 3 Year Old Program, 4 Year Old Program, and 5 Year Old Program. The operational hours is Monday through Friday, 7:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m….

Corner Campus

28430 Nanticoke Rd, Salisbury, MD 21801

Costimate: $160/wk

Description:

Corner Campus in Salisbury, Maryland is a Child Care provider that can accommodate up to 69 children from six weeks to fifteen years of age. Their curriculum seeks to provide a high quality, nurturing, fun andsafe learning environment that is appropriate for the child’s overall growth and development….

Description:

Located in Salisbury, Maryland, Gloria’s Home Daycare is a registered family child care home. It serves children from birth up to twelve years old. The Daycare has a maximum capacity of accepting eightchildren. It is operational every Monday through Friday….

Description:

Daydreams Early Childhood Learning is a state-licensed preschool offering education and daycare programs designed for infants up to 4-year old children. The company serves residents of the Salisbury communityin Maryland, and they also provide before and after-school care for elementary students. The center’s programs include meals, play time, and outdoor activities….

Description:

Located in a safe environment; been in the child care business for 30 years. I offer drop-in care, date night, and part-time child care.

Niecy’s Daycare

661 Cook Dr, Salisbury, MD 21801

Costimate: $120/wk

Description:

Niecy’s Daycare is a child care facility that has been in business since the year 2008. Located in Salisbury, Maryland, it aims to provide quality service to young children. It offers daycare and earlyeducational programs that aim to help children learn and grow….

McBride Daycare

811 Oneida Ave, Salisbury, MD 21801

Costimate: $120/wk

Description:

McBride Daycare is a licensed home-based childcare provider that serves the community of Salisbury MD. It offers a nurturing environment and provides age-appropriate activities for infants, toddlers,preschoolers, and school-age children. The home center has a capacity of eight children and operates seven days a week….

Ruth Daycare

403 Moss Hill Ln Apt C, Salisbury, MD 21804

Costimate: $131/wk

Description:

Ruth Daycare is a locally owned and operated daycare center that offers child care services and programs designed for young children. Located at 403 Moss Hill Lane Apartment C, the company serves the residentsof the Salisbury, MD community. Ruth Daycare has been in business since 2010….

Sunnytime Nursery

504 Purnell St, Salisbury, MD 21801

Costimate: $133/wk

Description:

Sunnytime Nursery in Salisbury, MD creates an enriching curriculum with the children’s interests and individual needs in mind. They feature a safe atmosphere where the kids can grow and learn morally, socially,physically, emotionally, and intellectually. They teach using developmentally appropriate equipment, materials, and methods in a stimulating, clean, secure, and safe atmosphere….

Parkway Preschool

709 Parkway Ave, Salisbury, MD 21804

Costimate: $131/wk

Description:

Parkway Preschool is a licensed early childhood care and education provider that serves children ages six week to five years old. It offers a fun, clean, healthy and professional atmosphere that meets thechildren’s and parents’ needs. It offers activities that are developmentally appropriate, and it strives to enhance the children’s physical abilities, intellect and social skills. Parkway Preschool offers full-time or part-time care, before and after-school care, and early childhood education programs….

Description:

Little Rascals Daycare is a registered facility that offers child care services. It is a home-based center that accommodates children from birth up to twelve years old. It has a small capacity of accepting amaximum number of eight children. The Daycare operates every Monday through Friday, all-year-round….

Description:

Tara’s Tiny Tots Child Care is a locally based daycare facility that offers center-based child care services designed for young children. Located at 417 Liberty Street, the company serves families living in theSalisbury, MD area. Tara’s Tiny Tots Child Care has been serving the community since they opened in 2014….

Description:

Robbin’s Child Care was established in 2006 to provide quality childcare services to children living in the communities around Salisbury, Maryland. It offers a safe, secure and nurturing environment that issuitable for children’s learning and development. It provides age-appropriate, hands-on activities that enhance the children’s physical, social and academic skills….

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FAQs for finding daycares in Salisbury

In 2022 what type of daycare can I find near me in Salisbury, MD?

There are a variety of daycares in Salisbury, MD providing full time and part-time care. Some daycares are facility-based and some are in-home daycares operated out of a person’s home. They can also vary in the degree of education and curriculum they offer. Additionally, some daycares offer bilingual programs for parents that want to immerse their children in multiple languages.

How can I find a daycare near me in Salisbury, MD?

If you are looking for daycare options near you, start several months in advance of when you need care for your child. Care.com has 28 in Salisbury, MD as of September 2022 and you can filter daycares by distance from Salisbury or your zip code. From there, you can then compare daycare rates, parent reviews, view their specific services, see their hours of operation and contact them through the website for further information or to request an appointment.

What questions should I ask a daycare provider before signing up?

As you visit daycare facilities in Salisbury, MD, you should ask the providers what their hours are so you can be prepared to adjust your schedule for drop-off and pick-up. Ask what items you are responsible for bringing for your child and what items you may be required to provide that will be shared among other children or the daycare staff. Also, make sure to check directly with the business for information about their local licensing and credentials in Salisbury, MD.

Best Infant Daycare & Child Care in Salisbury, MD

The following Salisbury, MD daycares have immediate availability for infants. Even if a locations does not have current openings for your infant, you can schedule a tour to join the waiting list. Capacity changes on a daily basis and we’ll let you know when a space becomes available!

39 Infant Daycares in Salisbury, MD

Ashley Will Daycare

Daycare in
Fruitland, MD

(503) 773-5465

Ashley Will provides childcare for families living in the Fruitland area. Children engage in play-based, educational activities aimed at hel… Read More

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7:00 am – 5:30 pm

Alembanchi Melesse Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(216) 259-8440

Alembanchi Melesse is a home daycare that offers childcare programs for nearby families in Salisbury. Open from 6:00 am to 6:00 pm, the… Read More

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6:00 am – 6:00 pm

Brittany Truitt Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(312) 598-1767

Brittany Truitt offers safe, loving childcare in the Salisbury area. Kids learn through curriculum-based, educational activities. The facili… Read More

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Request hours

Tasha Stanford Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(443) 880-6208

Tasha Stanford offers safe, loving childcare in the Salisbury area. Kids learn through curriculum-based, educational activities. The facilit… Read More

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6:00 am – 6:00 pm

Danyelle Dixon Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(216) 259-8440

Danyelle Dixon offers safe, loving childcare in the Salisbury area. Kids learn through curriculum-based, educational activities. The facilit… Read More

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6:00 am – 5:00 pm

Denise Davis Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(651) 371-8786

Denise Davis is a home daycare that offers childcare programs for nearby families in Salisbury. Open from 6:45 am to 6:00 pm, the dir… Read More

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6:45 am – 6:00 pm

Shari Parsons Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(415) 985-0931

Shari Parsons offers safe, loving childcare in the Salisbury area. Kids learn through curriculum-based, educational activities. The facility… Read More

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7:45 am – 5:15 pm

Tammy King Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(405) 374-4917

Tammy King is a home daycare that offers childcare programs for nearby families in Salisbury. Open from 7:30 am to 5:00 pm, the director off… Read More

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7:30 am – 5:00 pm

Sheila Miles Daycare

Daycare in
Salisbury, MD

(312) 598-1767

Sheila Miles offers safe, loving childcare in the Salisbury area. Kids learn through curriculum-based, educational activities. The facility … Read More

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6:00 am – 6:00 pm

Bridgette Bolton Daycare

Daycare in
Fruitland, MD

(704) 859-2575

Bridgette Bolton provides childcare for families living in the Fruitland area. Children engage in play-based, educational activities aimed a… Read More

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7:00 am – 5:30 pm

Map

Nearby WeeCare Cities

In-Home Daycare and Group Home Child Care in Salisbury MD

The Salisbury home daycare options below are dedicated to providing families
with quality home childcare in a safe and nurturing environment. Group home daycares are personable alternatives to large
centers with hundreds of children. Entrusting your family childcare to a Salisbury home
daycare gives children the added security of being cared for in a home environment while still giving parents the peace of mind
that comes from knowing their children are under the supervision of licensed professionals. We gathered the information for home
childcare centers in Salisbury into one place in order to help simplify your search
and make it more enjoyable. Since home daycare information can change often, please help us stay up to date by letting us know
if any of the information on our childcare providers is out of date or incorrect. We want to give you the right information
every time.

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A Step Ahead Learning Center

Fruitland/salisbury Area, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 397-3233

This is an in-home family daycare operated by a certified teacher that holds credentials in early childhood education. Children learn in the classroom and socialize with each other at their dining/craft tables. Outdoor play and healthy habits are implemented! We …

Ellison, Avonda

Oneida Ave., Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 831-1023

You face big decisions as a parent. None bigger than early education. Laugh N’ Learn truly believes in each and every child that comes through our doors. We are built on a foundation that is created based on love, support, and relationships. Therefore, our …

Conley, Cherry

Druid Hill Avenue, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (443) 783-1953

Joyful Noise Childcare is a Christian, multiage group childcare. We strive to support all children to grow to their fullest potenial, as they learn through play and formal intruction. We provide a curriculum based on childrens literature. activities include outdoor …

Parsons, Shari

Mt Hermon Road, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 260-4968

We are a home daycare set up like a center. I provide lots of love and individual attention. I provide lunch,snacks, milk, juice and a preschool program at no extra cost.We have a fun ,clean learning environment. We work on daily routines , & schedules, to …

Thomsen, Cheryl

Morris Mill Subdivision, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 546-1803

Cheryl Thomsen is a registered family child care provider since 1992 and enrolls children ages 6 weeks – 12 years. This is a structured but flexible learning environment with focus on your childs’ social, emotional and physical developmental areas. School readiness …

Lubna Ansari

Division Street, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 359-1008

Lubna Ansari is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Carrie Brown

Log Cabin Road, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (443) 783-3817

Carrie Brown is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 7 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Jones, Nenie

Louise Avenue, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 749-2380

Jones, Nenie is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Martha Clark

Hollow Mist Drive, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 736-8224

Martha Clark is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 6 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Zille Arif

Pine Way, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 742-6059

Zille Arif is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Aguirre, Dianna

Chestnut Way, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 749-6365

Aguirre, Dianna is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 7 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Alembanchi Melesse

Coulbourn Mill Road, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 900-6781

Alembanchi Melesse is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to …

Anaty, Gertha

Barwick Drive, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 572-6069

Anaty, Gertha is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Andrea Martin

Monticello Avenue, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 726-9080

Andrea Martin is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 7 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Andrews, Addie

Dover Street, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 572-5765

Andrews, Addie is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Collins, Charlene

Meadow Wood Drive, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 603-7163

Collins, Charlene is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Danyelle Dixon

Spring Ave, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (667) 221-2786

Danyelle Dixon is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Daveta Nock

Rose Street, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (443) 859-8486

Daveta Nock is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

DeShawn Woolford

Priscilla Street, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 845-0257

DeShawn Woolford is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Diahann Sheppard

S Haven Ave, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 572-4624

Diahann Sheppard is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Diann Manning

Jordan Court, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 430-3686

Diann Manning is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Disbrow, Wanda

Hounds Bay Circle, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 860-0397

Disbrow, Wanda is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Duawan Mills

Robinson Street, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 546-2061

Duawan Mills is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Dye, Haley

Catskill Drive, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (443) 523-2988

Dye, Haley is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 7 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. The provider does …

Gattis, April

North West Road, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 896-4076

Gattis, April is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Gravenor, Sherrie

Fooks Road, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 677-4902

Gravenor, Sherrie is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Hankerson, Phyllis

Robinson Street, Salisbury, MD 21801 | (410) 860-4760

Hankerson, Phyllis is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to …

Holden, Nikkia

E Vine Street, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (443) 783-4505

Holden, Nikkia is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

Jessica Mumford

Foggy Bottom Dr., Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 845-6824

Jessica Mumford is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 5 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 …

Jones, Argene

Ward Rd, Salisbury, MD 21804 | (410) 548-9781

Jones, Argene is a Registered Family Child Care Home in Salisbury MD, with a maximum capacity of 8 children. The home-based daycare service helps with children in the age range of 0-23 Months, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 5 years, 5 years to 12 years. …

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Region 9 – Lower Shore Office (Somerset, Wicomico, and Worcester Counties)

Contact Information:

Office of Child Care Region 9 (Lower Shore Office)
Maryland State Department of Education
201 Baptist Street, Suite 32
Multi-Service Building, 2nd Floor
Salisbury, MD 21801
Map This Location

Main office phone	410-713-3430
Office e-mail	[email protected]
Office fax	410-713-3439

Anyone who is interested in starting a child care business in a home or center is required to take the face-to-face orientation training. Please contact the Office of Child Care Regional Licensing Office to schedule the Orientation Training.To prepare for your orientation session, you may wish to view the on-line orientation preview. This does not replace the face-to-face orientation session you are required to attend at your regional Office of Child Care. (Click here to go to the Orientation page)”

To obtain required local permits for a Child Care License or Certificate of Registration – Click here

For Provider Training (Pre-Service and Continuing) – please click here to find MSDE-approved training courses, trainers and training organizations.

Lead Licensing Specialist

NAME	TITLE	TELEPHONE
Ruark, Suzanne [email protected]	Regional Manager	410-713-3430
Bell, Angelia L. [email protected]	Secretary	410-713-3430
Handy, Teresa [email protected]	Licensing Specialist	410-713-3430
Maull, Jacqueline Jacqueline.Maull@maryland. gov	Licensing Specialist	410-713-3430
Brown, Johanna [email protected]	Licensing Specialist	410-713-3430

Region 9 – Upcoming Events and Other Information

2020 LISTENING ROUNDTABLES

Child Care Centers

Friday July 17, 2020 @ 1-2pm
Join with Google Meet meet.google.com/dvm-azhq-dwq
Join by phone (US) +1 413-276-7659 PIN: ‪116 137 848#

Family Child Care Providers

Thursday, July 16, 2020 @ 6:30-7:30pm
Join with Google Meet meet.google.com/zxw-duma-mgy
Join by phone ‪(US) +1 414-909-6300 PIN: ‪365 484 987#

FAMILY CHILD CARE ORIENTATIONS I and II

All orientations are being done virtually and you must pre-register with Angelia L. Bell @ [email protected]

Orientation Dates:

Family Child Care Orientation I

Tuesdays, @9:30am- 12:30 pm

* Monday, July 13, 2020
Sept 15, 2020
October 20, 2020

Family Child Care Orientation II

Thursdays, @9:30am- 12:30pm

August 20, 2020
November 12, 2020

First Aid and CPR Training

Nick Morris, Instructor, offers First Aid/CPR Sessions through the American Heart Association. Please contact Mr. Morris at (410) 430-2923 for cost and to register for a class.

HELPFUL NUMBERS

Lower Shore Child Care Resource Center:

LOCATE Line – 1.877.261.0060

Monday – Friday, 9:30 A.M. – 3:30 P.M.

Office Line – 410.543.6650

State Fire Marshal (Somerset & Wicomico Counties): 410.713.3780
Worcester County Fire Marshal: 410.632.5666
Health Department (Environmental Health Unit):

Somerset – 410.651.5600

Wicomico – 410. 546.4446

Worcester – 410.632.1220

Permits, Planning, and Zoning:

Call OCC @ 410.713.3430 for the phone number of the county or city office in which you reside.

Wor-Wic Community College: 410.334.2815
Nick Morris: 410.430.2923 – First Aid/CPR – American Heart Association – Second Floor Conference Room (Rm #2136)

To Apply for a Criminal Background Check

Effective April 15, 2012, the FBI moved to an all-electronic criminal background check (CBC) application process and is no longer accepting hard-copy fingerprint cards. Because the Maryland Criminal Justice Information System (CJIS) follows FBI guidelines, the use of hard-copy CBC applications at the State level are also being phased out as of that date. Instead, all CBC applicants are being encouraged to submit their applications electronically. However, hard-copy applications are still being accepted by CJIS if electronic submission is not possible. Click here for a list of State-approved private electronic fingerprinting services and State-operated electronic fingerprinting locations. Electronic applications may also be submitted through many State and local police agencies. Child care programs that have their own State-certified electronic fingerprinting equipment and operators may continue to submit CBC applications. When submitting your CBC request, you must include the appropriate OCC Regional Office authorization number.

Online Licensing Inspection Results

Visit the Office of Child Care’s online child care licensing inspection results site – www.CheckCCMD.org! The site offers detailed compliance findings from child care licensing inspections conducted since January 2011. The site may also be used to find licensed child care programs and providers, and to link to a wide variety of information about early care and education in Maryland.

To File a Complaint

If you believe a particular child care program is in violation of State child care licensing laws or regulations, you may file an official complaint against that program. To file a complaint, contact the Regional Licensing Office covering the county where the program is located. Complaints may be filed in person, or by telephone, or in writing by e-mail, fax, or letter. Anonymous complaints are accepted, so complainants do not need to identify themselves. Each complaint is investigated by the Regional Licensing Office. Upon completion of the investigation, a report of findings is created. This report is available upon request if the investigation confirms that the violation occurred, or if it cannot be determined whether or not the violation occurred.

Medication Administration Training for Child Care Providers

The Medication Administration Training (MAT) is a pre-service training required for individuals seeking to acquire a Child Care Center License or a Family Child Care Registration in Maryland. MAT is provided by licensed Maryland Registered Nurses who have completed Medication Administration Trainer training and are apporved by the Nurse Consultant in the Office of Child Care’s Licensing Branch. MAT is a six (6) hour training conducted in a classroom setting with theory and practice. A certificate is awarded upon completetion of the course in addition to passing content and skill tests.

Need to find a MAT trainer in your area? Click here

Registered Nurses interested in becoming a MAT Trainer? Click here

For more information about the MAT course or training, contact the Nurse Consultant at 410-767-1853

The Family Child Care Provider Grant Program

The Family Child Care Provider Grant Program (FCCPGP) exists to help registered family child care providers offset some of the costs of opening their child care programs. For information about the FCCPGP, click here.

Click here to access the Maryland Sex Offenders Registry (SOCEM), which is maintained by the Maryland Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services. In addition to providing detailed offender information, the site carries “amber alerts” for abducted children and an information/resource section for parents and educators on preventing and combating youth gangs.

Click here for the Maryland Judiciary Case Search service, which provides free public access to the Maryland District Court and Circuit Court Case Management System. District Court criminal, civil, and traffic case records and Circuit Court criminal and civil case records are available. The amount of historical data may vary by jurisdiction.

Wicomico Day School | Private Schools Salisbury | Preschool

Wicomico Day School | Private Schools Salisbury | Preschool | Daycare

Since 1990, Wicomico Day School has provided students with quality education by using a solid, specific, and shared curriculum. At every level, our students are challenged to pursue academic excellence, develop personal integrity, and have respect for others.

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We send our daughter Lucy to WDS for so many reasons but most importantly we know she is safe, while receiving a great education. We love the small class sizes and the family-like environment. Having the option to take advantage of before and after school care when needed is awesome too!

Lauren Malone
My husband and I send our son, Mason, to WDS because we are so happy with the level of care and education he receives at the school. Plus, the teachers and staff go out of their way to communicate with each of the families and it truly feels like a school family. We are very impressed with WDS. Our child is very happy there.

Joan Wharton
We love WDS because it provides a safe enviroment for learnig. The teachers are very attentive and communicate important information well. We have loved seeing the progress in our child’s reading and math skills. We love that our child is excited to go to school every day! The class sizes are just right and we love the regimented schedule.

Amy
Makenzie said she loves learning. We love the atmosphere, teachers and administration. The education is top-notch. Wds overall is a great place to send your child for their educational needs.

Shayla
The patience, the structure and the love that my son has been provided has been wonderful. He has grown so much both in knowledge and independence. It has been fun to watch!

Erin
I’ve seen significant growth, both socially and academically since starting at WDS. I love walking in and all the staff know my children’s names. It really feels like a family at WDS.

Jessica
Some of the things that we love about WDS: the class size is small, the teachers are helpful, the public relation is helpful, there is an emphasis on history in the curriculum, and the environment is supportive.

Jacques
Staff and Teachers always friendly and helpful when we walk in. I like the flexibility to use afterschool care as I need to during the year. I like to enthusiasm of teachers with a variety of activites. I like the flexability of teachers to work with parents for child’s success.

Ankur
“The entire staff is extremely welcoming and I know my daughter is always in good hands.”

Nick and Sara
I love WDS because I totally trust their work and I feel comfortable leaving my daughter there. Teachers are loving and care about each kid! The activities are interesting and fun! The staff at WDS are very competent and loving! My daughter loves to study there! I’m really happy!

Beatriz
I love WDS because the curriculum that is set up to help the children has helped my Tori so much versus being at a home daycare. She is so interested in learning new things, like her shapes, letters and colors. She loves to be read to now. She has learned a lot of independence,especially with using the bathroom. The staff is always pleasent and I can feel the love for my daughter. Tori has the best teachers and she has made so many friends. I love all the activities and events to keep the children motivated. Overall our experience, meaning my comfort and Tori’s learning, has been amazing.

Michelle
I love the playground. I love my friends. I love my classroom. I love computer class. I love gym class. I love my teacher. I love music calss. I love art class. I love spanish class. I love the ice cream.

Jace -(Kindergarten)
I like WDS because of my teachers and friends. I also like WDS because I have fun.

Blake- (1st. Grade)
“I love my school because of my teacher and I love learning with her. My favorite days are Mondays and Thursdays. My school is very fun.”

Dylan-(Kindergarten)

Tell Us Why You Chose WDS

WDS Curriculum
Green School

Childcare Providers and Daycare Centers in salisbury maryland (md)

You know you want the best salisbury childcare provider. You may even look throughout Wicomico county. ChildCareAvenue provides you with a list of 41 daycare centers in salisbury, maryland. We leave the research up to you to find which center is best for your family.

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Joyful Noise Childcare, LLC
534 Druid Hill Ave.
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 677-0996

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Smarty Pants Family Child Care
30598 Olde Fruitland Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(443) 713-4948

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Blue Horizon
703 East Upland Court
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 546-8321

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Little Miracles Family Childcare
208 Donegal Ln.
Salisbury, MD 21804
(443) 365-0905

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Mom-Mom Tammy’s daycare
810 Springfield Cir
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 430-8774

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paytons playhouse
1109 Shawnee Ave
Salisbury, MD 21801
(443) 944-0088

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Angels Network 24 Hours 7 Days Incorporated
109 Clark St
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 742-7472

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Asbury Child Development Center
1401 Camden Ave
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 742-7058

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Bright future child care
1418 Bechford Ct
Salisbury, MD 21804
(443) 359-1008

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Bundles of Joy Learning Center
1409 S Division St
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 341-0333

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Candys Daycare
29214 Doubletree Dr
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 543-1088

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Cephas Day Care
323 Delaware Ave
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 548-5078

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Christian Community Child Care Center

Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 749-8310

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Christian Community Child Care Center
Gordy Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 749-9811

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Church of God of Prophecy
208 Tilghman Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 546-5464

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Day Care Unlimited
1012 East Rd
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 860-8551

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Funshine Early Learning Center
1533 Edgemore Ave
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 546-9006

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Guardian Angel Learning Center
28055 Rockawalkin Ridge Rd
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 546-1493

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Hickory Dickory Tots
1945 Northwood Dr
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 860-6747

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Kiddie Christian Kollege
105 E College Ave
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 546-5895

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Kiddie Christian Kollege

Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 742-7366

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Kids Are My Business Day Care
28269 Log Cabin Rd
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 677-0064

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Little Rascals Daycare
30542 Zion Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 677-0500

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Locate Child Care
Power Professional Building
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 548-3279

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Lower Shore Child Care Resource Center
217 Milford St
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 543-6650

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Miss Deanies Country Kids Child Care
3682 Saint Lukes Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 219-5719

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Miss Poohs Daycare
815 Spring Ave
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 860-2205

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Mitchells Martial Arts & Fitness
1305 S Division St
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 341-3333

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Nanas Day Care

Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 677-3880

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Salisbury Christian Learning Center
200 Morris Dr
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 749-0751

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Salisbury Christian School
807 Parker Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 546-0661

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Shepherds Child Care Center
410 Delaware Ave
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 546-1718

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Shondras Daycare
620 S Westover Dr
Salisbury, MD 21801
(410) 334-3923

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So Big Childcare
345 Tilghman Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 334-3740

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Step Ahead Early Learning Center
306 Tilghman Rd
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 546-9911

Write a Review

Stepping Stones Early Learning Center
721 S Schumaker Dr
Salisbury, MD 21804
(410) 543-2273

Write a Review

1 2

US National Archives and DVIDS World Public Domain Search

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Jimmie Johnson, car driver Alt Chevy, 48, celebrates his victory on the victory track after winning the AAA 400 29September 2013 at Dover International Speedway in Dover, Del. Johnson, who… More

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Martin Truex Jr., Niva driver 56 NAPA Auto Parts Toyota, Kyle Hemsworth, driver 18-year-old Toyota driver, and Jimmy Joson, Toyota driver, died on the spot. Alt/Low, 48, in a Chevy, retired from … More

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Philadelphia Eagles defenseman Nick Foles tries to run when Washington Redskins defenseman breaks his pocket during an NFL game at Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia, December 23, 2012. “Redskins” crushed “… 9 more0009

Kyle Hemsworth, Niva driver 18-year-old Toyota driver and Dale Ernst Jr., Toyota driver, died on the spot. 88 National Guard Chevy, race down the front stretch during the AAA 400 September 29, 2013, … More

NFL games at Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia. The Redskins… More

New recruits take the oath during pre-race celebrations before the AAA 400 29September 2013 at the International Speedway in Dover, Del. New recruits enlist in the US Air Force, US Air Force Reserve,… More

Washington Redskins head coach Mike Shannahan celebrates in the seats after a touchdown during an NFL game against the Philadelphia Eagles at Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia 23 December 2012. The Redskins crowd… More

Colonel Rick Moore, commander of the 436th Wing, and his wife Kristen wave to the crowd before the start of the AAA 400 on September 29, 2013 at Dover International Speedway in Dover, Del. Colonel Moore was part of a large… 9 more0009

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comics, gif animation, video, best intellectual humor.

Mr.Exclusive

A warehouse of weapons and explosives was found in the basement of a kindergarten near Kaliningrad.

Link to source.

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07/07/201707:17

link

10.8

IvanDolgunA

For shooting from cover at close targets.

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07/07/201706:06

link

7.7

Slavvin

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07/06/201710:59link

4.6

Drunken knight

A Canadian sniper has set a new record for longest lethal shot, over 3.

5 km.

A sniper from Canada’s elite Joint Task Force 2 unit set a new world record for accurate shots by killing an Islamic State militant who was 3,540 meters away from him, according to the Globe and Mail. According to a source in the Canadian military department cited by the publication, a bullet fired from a McMillan TAC-50 sniper rifle flew to the target for 10 seconds, and the shot itself and the defeat of the militant were recorded by ground and satellite video cameras.

“This shot had a shocking effect on IS because there were no enemy forces nearby. Instead of dropping a bomb that could harm civilians in the area, a very localized weapon was used. And since the target was very far , the bad guys never figured out what happened,” a spokesman for the Canadian military told the publication.

The previous record for an accurate sniper shot was set by British Special Forces fighter Cray Harrison in 2009year in Afghanistan. Then he managed to destroy two militants of the Taliban movement from a distance of 2474 meters.

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06/24/201713:35

link

114.8

red_legioner

Cranberry AK-74M

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06/24/201708:50

link

-6.0

Wackyninja123

Show

06/21/201707:50

link

9.1

Tyekanik

Expand

06/17/201705:42

link

2.8

Ponyzbs

US court recognized GIFs as lethal weapons (gif in comments)

US resident John Rivello sent journalist Eichenwald a GIF that caused the latter to have an eight-minute seizure. It is reported that Rivello knew about the victim’s epilepsy and decided in this way to take revenge on him for the “anti-Trump” notes.
Now he faces up to 10 years in prison.

An American who sent a flashing GIF that caused an epileptic journalist to have a seizure has been charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.

John Rain Rivello, a 29-year-old resident of Salisbury, Maryland, tweeted a flashing GIF to 55-year-old journalist Kurt Eichenwald as revenge because he knew he was ill.

Steven Lieberman, Eichenwald’s lawyer, stated that in this case, using gated animation against the victim could be equated with sending an explosive device or a dangerous virus.

Rivello was arrested on March 17 on charges of cyberstalking, but now his case has taken a more dramatic turn. He could face up to 10 years in prison.

“I hope this causes a seizure”

The US Department of Justice official statement regarding the arrest of John Rivello states that

the suspect sent Eichenwald a tweet on December 15 with a flashing GIF and the caption “You deserve a seizure for what you wrote. ” . After receiving and opening the message, the victim had an epileptic seizure.

Kurt Eichenwald was discovered by his wife, who sent a message to his

twitter: “This is his wife, you made him have a seizure. I have your details and I have reported the crime to the police.”

@jew_goldstein This is his wife, you caused a seizure. I have your information and have called the police to report the assault. — Kurt Eichenwald (@kurteichenwald) December 16, 2016

According to the lawyer, after the attack, Eichenwald was declared incapacitated for several days, lost sensation in his left hand and had problems with a speech for a couple of weeks.

According to New York Times ,

Rivello’s hatred could be due to the journalist’s political views: during the US presidential race in 2016, Eichenwald repeatedly criticized President Donald Trump.

Investigators obtained a warrant to gain access to Rivello’s Twitter account
, in which they found private messages sent to other users: they were talking about Eichenwald. “I hope this will give him a seizure,” “Sent this (to the victim), let’s see if he dies,” and “I know he’s epileptic,” Rivello wrote. In addition, a screenshot from epilepsy.com was found in Rivello’s iCloud account, which described various factors that could cause an epileptic seizure.

The jury ruled that John Rivello sent a dangerous tweet,

knowing that journalist Kurt Eichenwald was “susceptible to the seizures that such animation can cause.”

The white paper states that the defendant “used a deadly

weapon, namely a tweet and a GIF, and an electronic
device” during the commission of the crime.

As reported to Eichenwald, this was not the first such attack. He claims that in October 2016, one of Trump’s supporters sent him an epileptogenic cartoon, but, fortunately, he dropped the tablet from his hands before the seizure began.

The case is not the first, but unique

This unusual case clearly showed that online tools can be used as a weapon that can cause real physical injury.

Cybersecurity experts told Washington Post that Eichenwald’s case is not the first such case of online violence, but John Rivello will be the first defendant to face criminal charges.

Typically, harassment or cyberbullying lawsuits focus on how online content can harm a person emotionally, even to the point of causing suicide. But in this case, there is evidence that Rivello carefully planned his attack, starting from the chronic illness of his victim.

“This case is unique in that an online physical harm attack was targeted at a specific person using a rudimentary tool,” says Vivek Krishnamurthy, associate director of the Center for Cyber Law at Harvard University.

He noted that other instances of similar Internet-based attacks with real-world repercussions include disruption of power grids or air conditioning systems, but they target large groups of people.

In 2008, the US Epilepsy Foundation temporarily closed the forum after unknown hackers uploaded images that could cause seizures. Several users managed to open the links and complained of headaches and deterioration in their general condition, but there were no attacks caused by dangerous content.

https://www.gazeta.ru/tech/2017/03/22/10588181/gif_weapon.shtml

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Cone Mills Corporation – Frwiki

Corporation flannel, denim and other cotton fabrics through most of 20th – ^th century. The company was based in Greensboro, North Carolina. Its factories were primarily located in North Carolina and South Carolina. The company was known as the world’s largest manufacturer of denim. Finally ceased operations in 2004.

CV

1 Origin

2 Turn of the Ages

3 Company changes name

4 Interaction with other organizations

5 White oak closure

6 End of company

7 cone spinning villages

8 links

9 Further reading

Origin

One of the company’s first cotton mills, ca. 1900

The history of the Konus family begins in 1845 when Herman Kahn (1828–1897), a Jewish German immigrant, and his sister’s family left Bavaria, Germany to start a new life in the United States. Almost immediately after arriving in the United States, Herman changed the spelling of his last name from Kan to “Cone” to sound more American.

Herman Konus and his brother-in-law Jacob Adler started a dry goods business in the German-speaking Pennsylvania Dutch town of Jonesborough, Tennessee. Cone & Adler sold general merchandise such as groceries, hats, boots, and shoes. The exception was that they also sold ready-to-wear, which was unusual in the pre-Civil War South, where most clothing was made at home.

In the early 1850s, Herman met Helen Guggenheimer (1838-1898) on one of her business trips to Lynchburg, Virginia. She was also from Germany and was Jewish. In 1856, when Elena was eighteen, they got married. Their first child was Moses H. Cone, born in 1857, founder of the Proximity Manufacturing Company (the original name of the Cone Mills Company). Their second son Caesar, born in 1859, was a co-founder of the same company.

During the 1860 census conducted before the Civil War, their real estate and personal property amounted to a staggering amount for that time – 29365 dollars. In 1861, due to the Civil War, they closed their business and invested in real estate. When the war ended, the family sold some of their real estate to reopen a retail business called Adler, Cone & Shipley.

Cone mill division with spinning village, ca. 1914

They entered the commodity exchange system because there was very little money at that time. They traded their products for textiles, which they resold in the South for money. Often they simply took loans for movable property and land in exchange for goods. They forfeited most of the debts owed to them, thus recovering hundreds of acres of real estate.

In 1870, the family, by then quite wealthy, moved to Baltimore, Maryland and established a wholesale grocery store called Guggenheimer, Cone & Company. At that time there were seven children in the family, five boys and two girls, Claribel and Etta. They gained a reputation as the Cone Sisters, art collectors. This business, owned by several members of his family, was finally dissolved in 1873 and Herman went into business with his eldest sons, Moses and Caesar. This new company was named H. Cone & Sons. The two elders, Moses and Ceasar, worked with their father at his grocery store when they were teenagers in the South East as street vendors. The two brothers took and exchanged orders from merchants in the south for their father’s goods. In 1876, the business expanded with the sale of tobacco and leather.

Interior of a cotton mill in North Carolina, ca. 1909

In 1887, Moses and Caesar Cone invested $50,000 in the C.E. Graham Mill Manufacturing Company in Asheville, North Carolina, which made cotton blankets. At 1893rd year the factory became Asheville Cotton Mills. In 1888 the brothers invested in Salisbury Cotton Mills in Salisbury, also in North Carolina. They also invested in the Minneola Manufacturing Company in Gibsonville, North Carolina. In 1891, Moses and Caesar Cone founded the Cone Export & Commission. The southern textile sales agent was called a “checked trust” by his competitors. Licensed in New Jersey, the company was headquartered in New York and Moses was its president. At 1893, the Cone brothers built one of the first textile finishing factories in the south, called the Southern Finishing & Warehouse Company.

Moses Cone built his first jeans factory in Greensboro in 1895. The mill was named Proximity Cotton Mills because of its location next to the cotton fields. A building was built next to the Brother Moses and Brother Caesar factories, which will be the headquarters of the company. Caesar was its first president.

Many members of the Conus family were later involved in the affairs of Moses and Caesar, in particular Carrie (1861-1927), Monroe (1862-1891), Claribel (1864-1929), Albert (1866-1867), Salomon (1868 – 1939), Sydney M. (1869-1939), Etta (1870-1949), Julius W. (1872-1940), Bernard M. (1874-1956), Clarence N. (1876-1929) and Frederick W. (1878-1944).

At the turn of the century

White oak mills in Greensboro, North Carolina, 1909.

In 1899, Moses and Caesar teamed up with Emanuel and Herman Sternberger of South Carolina to build a flannel mill called Revolution Mills. At 19In 05, under the direction of the Proximity Manufacturing Company, the Coney brothers built the White Oak cotton mill in Greensboro. In 1908 they were the largest denim manufacturers in the world. The durable blue denim produced by factories controlled by Moses gave it a reputation as the “King of Denim”. The company has been producing denim for Levi Strauss & Company since 1915, and in recent years has been the exclusive supplier of Levi’s 501 denim.

In 1912 the company opened the Proximity Print Works. This plant was one of the first color textile printing facilities in the southern United States. At 1927, the company acquired Cliffside Cotton Mills (terry manufacturer) and Haynes Plant (chambray manufacturer). In 1929 they purchased the Holt-Granite Puritan Mills Company of Howe River, North Carolina. They then acquired the Tabardrey Manufacturing Company, a corduroy company founded by Sidney Small Payne and named after his children, Thad, Barbara and Audrey. By 1932, the Cone Company had acquired control of the Eno Cotton Mills in Hillsborough, North Carolina. They bought Florence Mills from Forest City, North Carolina at 1941, as well as its subsidiary called the American Spinning Company of Greenville, South Carolina.

Company changes name

Stereograph showing Proximity and White Oak frames (Caesar Cone sits in the center of the table) made by H.C. White Co, 1909.

In 1945, the company merged all of its separate factories into the Proximity Manufacturing Company. Cone-owned manufacturing companies, factories, and various subsidiaries have undergone a major reorganization, during which certain activities of Proximity Manufacturing Company (including Proximity Cotton Mills, Proximity Print Works, White Oak and Granite), Cliffside Mills (including Cliffside and Haynes), have been reorganized Florence Mills (including American Spinning Company), Minneola Manufacturing Company, Salisbury Cotton Mills, Tabardrey Manufacturing Company and Cone Export & Commission Company.

In 1948 another major merger took place. Revolution Mills and Proximity Manufacturing Company were merged into a single entity called Cone Mills Corporation. In 1950, the company announced a merger with twill and wick manufacturer Dwight Manufacturing Company of Alabama. The following year, Cone Mills Corporation bought 100% of the company’s shares, the same year it was listed on the New York Stock Exchange.

Cone Mills Corporation acquired Union Bleachery in Greenville, South Carolina at 1952 year. They then obtained the first license for the sanforizing process granted to the United States.

Interaction with other organizations

Cone Memorial YMCA
(White Oak Branch)

Cone Mills Corporation has been involved in Cone Memorial YMCA (White Oak, Proximity and Segregation Branch), Camp Herman, night school and nursing. The company built residential buildings near its factories, both boarding houses and cottages. Dairy products were sold in stores, and meat was produced on the company’s farms. The company also built a school, donated land for churches in every village, and opened a social service.

Cone Mills also participated in state and regional cotton and textile business associations: Mill Mutual Aid Association and Summit Avenue Construction Company. She was also involved with the Cone Country Club and founded the Moses H. Cone Memorial Hospital.

From 1958 to 1969, Cohn Mills competed in the annual Miss North Carolina pageant. The company supplied fabric for wardrobes, which was presented to the winner every year. She also provided fabric for the presentation dress in which each winner represented North Carolina at the annual Miss America Pageant.

White Oak Closing

In 2017, ITG (International Textile Group), the parent company of Cone Denim, announced that after more than 110 years of continuous production, its Greensboro White Oak factory will cease operations. The company worked closely with White Oak customers to meet all customer orders and needs over the next few months, including porting styles to other global platforms, with ITG still headquartered in Greensboro, with ten manufacturing facilities located in the US. States, Mexico and China.

When the factory closed, it was the last major denim factory to close in the United States. This means that it is not possible to buy 100% American selvedge denim right now.

A piece of the latest white oak denim was donated to denim artist Jan Berry to create Secret Garden at the Children’s Museum of Art in New York.

End of the company

Textile companies and factories wholly or partly owned and operated by the Konus family:

Revolution Cotton Mills (South Carolina)

Asheville Cotton Mills (SC)

Minneola Manufacturing Company (NC)

Salisbury Cotton Mills (North Carolina)

Cliffside Mills

Eno Cotton Mills (North Carolina)

Granite Finishing (North Carolina)

Tabardrey Manufacturing Company (North Carolina)

Florence Mills (NC)

John Wolf Textile

Olympic Products

American Spinning Company (South Carolina)

The company went private again in 1983 under threat of a takeover by Western Pacific Industries. At the time, the company had 21 factories and 10,800 employees, with a valuation of $385 million. In 2003, Cone Mills Corporation filed for bankruptcy protection. By 2004, all of Cone’s assets had been acquired by WL Ross and Company and then merged with what was left of Burlington Industries to form the International Textile Group.

Spinning Villages

Spinning Villages were company-owned towns built from the ground up for domestic workers and their families. In the early 1900s, Cone Mills Inc. built five detached villages to serve its factories in Greensboro. These villages included churches, schools, baseball fields, community centers and corporate stores in addition to houses rented out to factory workers. At their peak, these villages covered 450 acres (182 ha) and employed 2,675 workers in about 1,500 homes. During segregation, African-American laborers lived in the separate spinning village of East White Oak. Thousands of workers and their families earned their living in these “cities within a city” until the company at the end of 1940s did not start selling houses (sometimes to workers).

Recommendations

↑ ^{a b c d e f} Cone Mills LLC – company history; Cone Mills Corporation Current Report 2003 Form 8-K Press Release ; All About / Denim; The appeal of blue – now red or green – jeans

↑ ^{a b c and d} Cone Mills Corporation – Company profile, information, business description, history, background information about Cone Mills Corporation

↑ Noblitt p. four

↑ ^{a and b} Noblitt, p. 5

↑ Noblitt p. 6

↑ Noblitt, p. 6

↑ Noblitt, p. 7

↑ Noblitt, p. 8

↑ History of the nearest cotton factory and nearby printing houses https://web.archive.org/web/20080225052403/http://www.proximityhotel.com/history.htm

↑ Moses H. Cone Memorial Park

↑ Noblitt, p. 18

↑ (in) Philip T. Blue Ridge Parkway Foundation – Moses H. Cone Memorial Park; NC MetroMagazine Business Hall of Fame https://www.virtualblueridge.com/parkway-place/moses-cone-memorial-park/

↑ Cone Mills Corporation Selects BPCS Client/Server Version 6.0 to Streamline Order Fulfillment

↑ Cone Mills Corporation Records Inventory, 1858-1997.

↑ (in) “ Closing: Sad Days of Denim: ITV and Cone Denim’s White Oak Factory Closing “, sportswear-international.com , October 19, 2017 (read online, consultation July 9, 2018 .)

↑ (c) “ Tellason Denim and America Why White Oaks Closing Matters “, Forbes , November 26, 2017 ( read online consultation July 9, 2018 )

↑ (en-US) “ Cone Mills to Close White Oak Mill, Last American Selvedge Denim Plant “, Heddels , October 18, 2017 (read online, consultation July 8, 201 . )

↑ (en-US) “ A Look Inside Ian Berry’s Secret Garden – Children’s Museum of Art of New York “, Children’s Museum of Art of New York , January 19, 2018 (read online, consultation July 9, 2018)

↑ (en-US) “ Artist Creates ‘Secret Garden’ with Latest US Made Denim “, My Modern Met , January 15, 2018 (read online consultation July 9, 2018 .)

↑ (en-US) “ Ian Berry turns the last spool of denim into a secret whim garden » , designboom | magazine about architecture and design , January 14, 2018 (read online consultation July 9, 2018)

↑ “ Secret Garden “, Selvedge , January 21, 2018 (read online consultation July 9, 2018)

↑ Noblitt, p. 3

↑ Cone Mills plans to become a private entity

↑ International Textile Group completes Burlington and Cone integration

↑ Covington, Howard E., Jr. (2008). “Once Upon a Time in the City: Greensboro, North Carolina’s Second Century,” pp. 43-44. Greensboro Historical Museum, Inc., Greensboro, NC.

further reading

Gabriel, Mary, The Art of Acquisition: A Portrait of Etta and Claribel Cone , Bancroft Press 2002, (ISBN 1-8-06-1)

Renouf, Norman, Romantic Weekend on the Carolina and Georgia Coast , Hunter Publishing 1999, (ISBN 1-55650-854-9)

American Council of Learned Societies, Dictionary of American Biography , Scribner 1958, original in University of Michigan Library.

Noblitt, Philip T., Mansion in the Mountains: The Story of Moses and Bertha Cone and Their Blowing Rock Estate , Parkway Publishers, 1996 (ISBN 1-887905-02-2)

Register of records of the Cone Mills Corporation, 1858-1997. , In the South Historical Collection, UNC-Chapel Hill

New Hampshire Government

To New Hampshire State House at Concord

at The state of New Hampshire has a republican form of government modeled on the Government of the United States, with three branches: the executive, consisting of the Governor of New Hampshire and other elected constitutional officers; the legislative one, called the General Court of New Hampshire, which includes the Senate and the House of Representatives; and a judiciary, consisting of the New Hampshire Supreme Court and lower courts.

The capital of New Hampshire is Concord. The capital was Portsmouth in colonial times, and Exeter from 1775 to 1808. The governor’s office, some other executive bodies and both legislative chambers are located in the State House. In this photograph, the Legislative Assembly building is behind the State House; The state supreme court and other institutions are in an office park on the other (east) side of the Merrimack River.

Contents

Constituencies

Further Information: US Congressional Delegations from New Hampshire and the New Hampshire Congressional District

Congressional Districts since 2003

The 1st congressional district consists of Carroll and Strafford districts; Alton, Barnstead, Belmont, Central Harbour, Guildford, Gilmanton, Laconia, Meredith and New Hampton in Belknap County; Bedford, Goffstown, Manchester and Merrimack in Hillsborough County; Hooksett in Merrimack County; and all Rockingham County, Except Atkinson, Salem and Windham.

Governing documents

State Constitution

Main article: New Hampshire Constitution

New Hampshire is governed by its constitution of 1783. The constitution consists of two parts: a Bill of Rights and a longer form of government. unlike the Constitution of the United States, amendments to the New Hampshire Constitution are not set forth later, but edit the text. It is one of the few state constitutions that recognizes the right of revolution.

The state constitution is one of the few that does not explicitly require public schools. However, at 19In 1993, the State Supreme Court ruled in first Claremont approach ^[1] that the constitutional duty to “cherish the interests of … public schools” ^[2] required the state to designate and fund equal public schools throughout the state. The legislature slowly obeyed; in 2008 the court ended ^[3] its supervisory role because the original laws were replaced, but it did not change its earlier conclusion.

The State Constitution contains many expressions concerning the nature of the people and the criteria by which their election of officers must be governed. ^[2] ^[4] It also prohibits the legislature from awarding pensions for longer than the current year. ^[5] although civil servants now have regular employment contracts and the pension system is considered “deferred compensation.”

State law

Main article: New Hampshire Annotated Revised Statute

Current Constitutional Codification of State Law Annotated New Hampshire Revised Statute 1955

New Hampshire is the only state that does not have a law requiring seat belts or motorcycle helmets. (The law now places these requirements on people under 18). ^[6] The driver is not required to have vehicle insurance but must provide the government with “proof of financial responsibility” after an accident. Failure to do so may result in loss of driver’s license until the aggrieved party receives full compensation for the loss. ^[7] Unlike neighboring states, New Hampshire does not have a “bottle bill.”

New Hampshire did not have a law against open container drinking in a vehicle until 1990, although it has since taken on alcohol in a variety of ways, including a 2008 law that makes possession of alcohol by minors include keeping it inside the body.

New Hampshire is a constitutional carry state allowing open and concealed carry of all weapons without any permit. New Hampshire also allows you to protect yourself or property by standing your ground laws that expand on the Castle Doctrine. ^[8]

Civil unions became legal in New Hampshire in early 2008, transferring all marriage rights in the state to same-sex couples. ^[9] On January 1, 2010, same-sex marriage became legal in New Hampshire, surpassing the civil unions law.

The state had a death sentence for certain categories of murders. ^[10] The last execution took place in 1939. In 2008, jurors voted in favor of imposing the death penalty for the first time since 1959 in the Addison Case. ^[11] However, in 2019 the death penalty was abolished. Some repeal advocates argued that this law would not affect Addison’s case, but some opponents argued that Addison would be spared, saying it was due to the rights process.

New Hampshire was the last state in the country to require a public daycare, which went into effect in 2007.

Administrative Rules

The rules that agencies make by law are collected in the New Hampshire Code of Administrative Rules.

Branches of government

Legislature

Main article: New Hampshire General Court

The legislature is called the General Court. It consists of the House of Representatives (400 members) and the Senate (24 members).

The General Court is the fourth largest legislature in the English-speaking world, behind only the British Parliament, the US Congress, and the Parliament of Canada respectively; The New Hampshire House of Representatives is also the fourth largest individual house (in terms of number it is second only to the US House of Representatives, the British House of Commons and the British House of Lords). ^[12] The legislature at one time grew to 443 members due to population growth, but a 1942 constitutional amendment fixed its size from 375 to 400 members. ^[13] There is one representative for every 3,300 inhabitants. ^[14] To have the same representation in the US Congress, there must be about 99,000 representatives.

The legislature allocates seats in the legislature on a ten-year basis. US Census. The problem of distribution of 400 deputies in 259municipalities and ensuring equal representation is decided by the county. For example, a city must have more than five representatives, but not quite six, five representatives of the city itself and one more in the fleet, including several neighboring cities, can be chosen.

State Representatives are paid $200 for a two-year term plus miles, effectively making them volunteers. The only other benefits are free use of toll roads and public resorts. A 2007 survey showed that almost half of the members of the Chamber of Pensioners, whose average age is over 60 years old. ^[15]

Executive

The executive branch consists of the Governor, the Executive Council, and state bodies. The executive branch implements and enforces the laws of the state. The Governor is the highest official and holds the title of His or Her Excellency, although the Constitution only provides for “His Excellency”.

The Governor of New Hampshire is Chris Sununu (R).

Unlike most other states, the Governor shares executive power with the Executive Council, which is chaired by the Governor. ^[16] The Governor and the Executive Council must negotiate government contracts over $5,000, senior agency appointments, and pardons. Governor’s veto power and command of the National Guard are independent of the Executive Council. The governor and councilors are elected for two-year terms. New Hampshire and Vermont are the only states that still elect two-year governors instead of four-year ones. Agency appointments are typically made for four to five years, which means that the governor of New Hampshire cannot form a new cabinet when he first takes office.

New Hampshire does not have a Lieutenant Governor like most states. The president of the Senate acts as acting governor when the governor is out of state or otherwise unable to perform his duties. After the President of the Senate, the Speaker of the House, the Secretary of State, and the Treasurer of State are next in line for the position of Acting Governor.

Judicial

Main article: Courts of New Hampshire

The state’s highest and only court of appeal is the New Hampshire Supreme Court. The Chief Justice is the head of the judiciary and, along with the other justices of the supreme court, oversees the judiciary. New Hampshire has three additional courts and one branch:

The Superior Court is the court of general jurisdiction and the only one that provides jury trials in civil and criminal cases.

States The Probate Court has jurisdiction over trusts, wills and estates, adoptions, termination of parental rights, name changes, custody of incapacitated persons, guardianship of minors, division of property, and involuntary hospitalization.

The District Court hears cases involving families, juveniles, petty crimes and violations, and civil cases up to $25,000.

The Family Division has jurisdiction over divorce, child custody, child support, domestic abuse, child custody, deprivation of parental rights, abuse/neglect, children in need of services (CHINS), juvenile delinquency, and a bit of Belknap adoption. Carroll, Coos, Grafton, Merrimack, Rockingham, Strafford, and Sullivan County. In the future, the family department will expand to Hillsborough, and Cheshire counties. [1

Political parties

Registration

The Democratic Party and the Republican Party are the only official parties for which the state allows voter registration, holds primary elections, and provides a general election column. Minor parties must win 4% of the vote in statewide or congressional elections to become official parties, and they lose that status if they stop winning 4%. The Libertarian Party has had official party status since 1990 to 1994 and then from 2016 to 2018. ^[17]

A voter registered with an official political party cannot vote in a primary election of another party. A voter who is registered “independent” may vote in any party’s primary election, but is automatically registered with the party in which he or she votes. A voter may change registration at the polling place after voting, and may also change registration at the periodic City Watch List meetings or at the City Clerk’s office. These rules are designed to prevent a cross-vote for another party that may have the purpose of sabotaging its nomination. Registration with a party limits the voter’s choice of ballot, but demonstrates support for the chosen party, and is a prerequisite for being a candidate for that party.

Primary

The famous New Hampshire Primary is summarized in the New Hampshire article.

Candidates for all other party positions are decided in a separate primary election held in September of election years. In presidential election cycles, this is the second primary held in New Hampshire.

Local government

New Hampshire’s 234 local governments and 25 unincorporated areas are divided into ten districts.

Municipalities

New Hampshire includes 13 towns and 221 cities, plus 25 unincorporated places. ^[18] These governments comply with the Dillon Rule; that is, they are the offspring of the State, whose powers are limited to those expressly granted to them by law (NH RSA, Section III). ^[19] Municipalities also have the powers necessarily implied by these explicit powers, and those necessary for the existence of local government, but these powers are narrowly construed, unlike the practice in much of New England. For statistics on municipalities in New Hampshire and a comparison with municipalities in other parts of New England, see City of New England.

Cities are governed by Alderman Councils (in Manchester and Nashua) or City Councils (all other cities).

In the cities, the executive power is the Council of the Elected, except that some cities, especially large ones, are governed by the City Council. The City Assembly is effectively the municipal legislature, of which every registered voter is a member. ^[20] City meeting approves, corrects, or rejects warrant items that must be published in advance. Articles may be placed on warrant by the city’s executive council or by petition from citizens.

The town meeting meets annually, usually on the second Tuesday in March, to determine the annual budget. Special city meetings may be called to deal with urgent deals. Municipal elections, which select city officials for the coming year and may approve changes in local law, such as zoning ordinances, are considered a session of the city assembly.

Government by referendum (SB 2)

Main article: City Assembly § Official referendum ballot (SB 2)

Since 1995 the city can choose self-government Official ballot referendum. This procedure is known as SB 2. In such cities, the Town Meeting is a “deliberative” meeting that decides the wording of each article of the warrant; A binding decision is taken by secret ballot simultaneously with the election of officers for the following year. A three-fifths majority is required to accept or reject the SB 2 procedure.

School districts

School districts are separate from municipalities and, if governed by the City Council, have a separate budget, agenda, and elected Moderator, which may be different from the municipal moderator.

A school district can be governed by official referenda, just like a city.

Cities are often grouped into school administrative units (SAUs), at least for the management of higher education institutions and sometimes for all schools. If the city is a member of GAU but has its own Elementary School, voters have the right to vote in both organizations.

Counties

New Hampshire is divided into 10 counties. The counties have a sheriff’s department of rural law enforcement and a jail, and may have a nursing home, a farmer’s advisory service, social services, and other services. In smaller cities and towns, the county may provide services that are usually municipal in nature, such as health checks for restaurants.

The legislature of the county is the County Convention, a single chamber consisting of a “delegation” of all state representatives elected from that county. ^[21] The County Executive is an elected Board of Commissioners.

From time to time it is proposed to abolish the county government and transfer its functions to the state or municipalities. ^[22]

Funding

All of the above local governments are mainly funded by property tax. The public budget approved by the county legislature, the council of elders or city council, or the town meeting of the city or school district is divided by the appraised value of all properties in the respective region, so that each owner pays a share based on the value of the property. ^[23] Some or all of the tax is waived for certain types of property (such as exemptions for religious, educational, and charitable purposes) and for certain categories of taxpayers (such as the poor, the elderly, and veterans). Larger packages will be judged on their current use and not their “best and maximum use” if the owner cedes the development rights. The property owner receives a tax bill that breaks out of mill rates that apply to the following:

Municipality.

Any county with a higher tax to fund local projects.

School district(s).

Country.

Statewide property tax. New Hampshire introduced this tax in 2002 in response to a court order to equalize statewide education funding (see Claremont suits). The tax, which was lower than the amount previously collected by school districts, is theoretically returned to school districts, although amendments made by the state legislature create “donor cities” and “recipient cities”.

In real estate appraisal is controversial, as it directly affects the property tax. The State requires citywide revaluations to be conducted at least every five years, usually by professional consultants, to ensure that valuations are consistent with incremental changes in the real estate market and the overall price of real estate. ^[23] The municipality allows the property owner to challenge the revaluation.

If the dues in the city were uniformly increased by 10%, the size of the estate would decrease by 10%, and the tax payable would remain the same, provided that the money put into the budgets of various state bodies did not change. Even this can be moot, as the lower size could end up being used as an argument for new spending.

Separately, the fact that the appraisal is a market value estimate means that it reflects the intangible aspects of the property, a phenomenon that has been criticized as a so-called view tax.

Budget

New Hampshire’s operating budget is set on a biennial basis, most recently July 1, 2007 to June 30, 2009, which is FY2008 (Fiscal Year) and FY2009. The results of the 2008 financial year are as follows: ^[24] ^[26]
Inheritance and estate tax

Business income tax

Business enterprise tax – 0.75% ^[27] – personal income tax

Communication services tax
2 on electricity consumption

Food and rent tax – 9% sales tax on meals, car rentals and hotel rooms ^[28]

Tobacco tax
Property transfer tax 9 “New Hampshire Statutes – Table of Contents”. www.gencourt.state.nh.us . Retrieved April 17, 2018.

Harriet Tubman

This article is about the person. For the musical group called Harriet Tubman, see Harriet Tubman (band).

Harriet Tubman (born Araminta Ross , c. March 1822 ^[1] – March 10, 1913) was an American abolitionist and political activist. Born into slavery, Tubman escaped and subsequently made about 13 sorties to rescue approximately 70 enslaved people, including family and friends, ^[2] using the anti-slavery and asylum activist network known as the Underground Railroad. During the American Civil War, she served as an armed scout and spy for the Allied Army. In her final years, Tubman was an activist in the women’s suffrage movement.

Born into slavery Dorchester County, Maryland As a child, Tubman was beaten and spanked by various masters. In early childhood, she suffered a head injury when an irate taskmaster threw a heavy metal weight, intending to hit another enslaved person, but hit her instead. The injury caused dizziness, pain, and bouts of hypersomnia that continued throughout her life. After the injury, Tubman began experiencing strange visions and vivid dreams, which she attributed to premonitions from God. These experiences combined with her Methodist upbringing led her to become genuinely religious.

In 1849, Tubman fled to Philadelphia, only to return to Maryland soon after to save his family. Gradually, one group at a time, she took relatives out of the state with her and eventually brought dozens of other enslaved people to freedom. Traveling at night and in extreme secrecy, Tubman (or “Moses” as she was called) “never lost a passenger.” ^[3] After the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 was passed, she helped lead fugitives further north into British North America (Canada) and helped recently freed enslaved people find work. Tubman met John Brown in 1858 and helped him plan and recruit supporters for his 1859 raidon Harpers Ferry.

When the Civil War began, Tubman worked for the Union Army, first as a cook and nurse, and then as an armed intelligence officer and spy. The first woman to lead an armed expedition in a war, she led a raid on the Combahee Ferry that freed over 700 enslaved people. After the war, she moved into the family home on the property she had purchased in 1859 in Auburn, New York, where she cared for her aging parents. She was active in the women’s suffrage movement until an illness overtook her and she had to be placed in a nursing home. African Americans that she helped establish a few years ago. After her death at 1913 she became an icon of courage and freedom.

Content

1 Birth and family

2 Childhood

3 Family and marriage

4 Escape

5, nickname “Moses”
5.1 Routes and methods

909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 909 90ET Harper’s Ferry
7 Auburn and Margaret

8 American Civil War

8.1 Exploration and raid on the Combachee River

9 Later life

As with many enslaved people in the United States, neither the exact year nor place of Tubman’s birth is known, and historians disagree on the most accurate estimates. Keith Larson records 1822 based on the midwife’s payment and several other historical documents, including her cursory advertisement, ^[1] while Jean Youmes says “the best contemporary evidence suggests that Tubman was born in 1820, but it could have happened a year or two later.” ^[4] Katherine Clinton notes that Tubman gave her birth year as 1825, while her death certificate gives 1815 and her tombstone gives 1820. ^[5]

Tubman’s maternal grandmother, Modesty, came to the US on a slave ship from Africa; there is no information about her other ancestors. ^[6] As a child, Tubman was said to resemble an Ashanti human due to her personality traits, although no evidence has been found to support or refute this lineage. ^[7] Her mother, Reet (who may have had a white father), ^[7] ^[8] was a cook in the Brodess family. ^[4] Her father, Ben, was an experienced lumberjack who ran the logging operations on Thompson’s plantation. ^[7] They were married around 1808 and, according to court records, they had nine children: Lena, Mariah Ritty, Soph, Robert, Minty (Harriet), Ben, Rachel, Henry, and Moses. ^[9]

Reet struggled to keep her family together as slavery threatened to tear her apart. Edward Brodess sold her three daughters (Lina, Mariah Ritty and Soph), separating them from the family forever. ^[10] When a Georgia merchant approached Brodes to purchase Reet’s youngest son, Moses, she hid him for a month with the help of other enslaved people and freedmen in the community. ^[11] At some point, she told her owner about the sale. ^[12] Eventually, Brodes and the “Georgian man” went to the slave quarters to grab the child, where Reet told them, “You’re chasing my son; but the first person who enters my house, I will open his head.” ^[12] Brodess retreated and refused to sell. ^[13] Tubman’s biographers agree that the stories told about this event in the family influenced her belief in the possibility of resistance. ^[13] ^[14]

Childhood

Tubman’s mother was assigned to the “big house”. ^[15] ^[16] and she had little time for her family; consequently, as a child, Tubman took care of a younger brother and an infant, which was typical of large families. ^[17] When she was five or six years old, Brodess hired her to babysit a woman named “Miss Susan”. Tubman was ordered to attend to the infant and rock the cradle while he slept; when she woke up and cried, she was beaten. She later recalled one day when she was lashed five times before breakfast. She bore the scars for the rest of her life. ^[18] She found ways to resist, such as running away for five days, ^[19] wearing multiple layers of clothing to protect against beatings and resistance. ^[20]

As a child, Tubman also worked at the home of a planter named James Cook. She had to test the muskrat traps in the nearby swamps, even after contracting the measles. She became so ill that Cook sent her back to Brodes, where her mother nursed her back to health. Brodess then rehired her. She later recounted her acute childhood homesickness, comparing herself to “a boy on the Swanee River”, an allusion to the Stephen Foster song “Old Men at Home”. ^[21] As she grew older and stronger, she was assigned to field and forest work: driving oxen, plowing and hauling logs. ^[22]

As a teenager, Tubman suffered a severe head injury when an overseer threw a two-pound metal weight at another enslaved man who tried to escape. Instead, the weight hit Tubman, to which she said, “broke my skull.” Bleeding and unconscious, she was returned to her master’s house and laid on a loom, where she remained without medical attention for two days. ^[23] After this incident, Tubman often experienced extremely painful headaches. ^[24] She also had convulsions and seemed to lose consciousness, although she claimed to be aware of her surroundings when she appeared to be asleep. This state remained with her for the rest of her life; Larson suggests that she may have been suffering from temporal lobe epilepsy as a result of the injury. ^[25] ^[26]

After her injury, Tubman began to experience visions and vivid dreams, which she interpreted as revelations from God. These spiritual experiences had a profound effect on Tubman’s personality, and she gained a passionate faith in God. ^[27] Although Tubman was illiterate, she was told Bible stories by her mother and probably attended a Methodist church with her family. ^[28] ^[29] She rejected teachings from the New Testament which called for slaves to be obedient and found guidance in the Old Testament tale of deliverance. This religious viewpoint guided her actions throughout her life. ^[30]

Family and marriage

Anthony Thompson promised to release Tubman’s father at the age of 45. After Thompson’s death, his son fulfilled this promise in 1840. Tubman’s father continued to work as a timber appraiser and craftsman for the Thompson family. ^[31] A few years later, Tubman contacted a white lawyer and paid him five dollars to find out her mother’s legal status. The lawyer found that the former owner had issued instructions that Tubman’s mother, Reet, like her husband, would be released at the age of 45. It appears from the documents that a similar provision would apply to Rita’s children and that all children born after she reached the age of 45 were legally free, but the Pattison and Brodess families ignored this stipulation when they inherited enslaved people. To challenge this legally was an impossible task for Tubman. ^[32]

About 1844 she married a free black man named John Tubman. ^[33] Although little is known about him and their time together, the union was difficult due to her slave status. The mother’s status dictated this to the children, and any children born to Harriet and John would be enslaved. Such mixed marriages – free people of color marriages with slaves – are not uncommon on the East Shore of Maryland, where by this time half of the black population was free. Most African American families had both free and enslaved members. Larson suggests that they may have been planning to buy Tubman’s freedom. ^[34]

Tubman changed her name from Aramint to Harriet shortly after her marriage, although the exact time is unclear. Larson suggests that this happened immediately after the wedding, ^[33] Clinton suggests that this coincided with Tubman’s plans to escape from slavery. ^[35] She adopted her mother’s name, perhaps as part of a religious conversion or in honor of another relative. ^[33] ^[35]

Escape from slavery

Notice to Cambridge Democrat newspaper offering a $100 (equivalent to $3,070 in 2019) bounty for the capture of each of the escaped slaves “Minty” (Harriet Tubman) and her brothers Henry and Ben.

In 1849 Tubman fell ill again, which diminished her value as a slave. Edward Brodess tried to sell it, but could not find a buyer. ^[36] Angry at him for trying to sell her and for continuing to enslave her relatives, Tubman began to pray for her owner, asking God to make him change his ways. ^[37] Later she said: “I prayed all night for my master until the first of March; and all the time he brought people to look at me and tried to sell me. When the deal seemed to close, she said, “I changed my prayer.” “On the first of March, I began to pray, ‘Oh Lord, if you never change this man’s heart, kill him, Lord, and get him out of the way.’ ^[38] A week later, Brodess died, and Tubman expressed regret for her earlier feelings. ^[39]

As in many other settlements, Brodess’s death increased the likelihood that Tubman would be sold and her family would fall apart. ^[40] His widow, Eliza, began selling enslaved families. ^[41] Tubman refused to wait for the Brodesse family to decide her fate, despite her husband’s attempts to dissuade her. ^[42] “[T]here was one of two things I was entitled to,” she later explained, “freedom or death; if I didn’t have one, I would have the other.” ^[43]

Tubman and her brothers Ben and Henry escaped from slavery on September 17, 1849. Tubman was hired by Anthony Thompson (the son of her father’s former owner), who owned a large plantation in an area called Poplar Neck in nearby Caroline County; it is likely that her brothers also worked for Thompson. Since the enslaved were hired to another house, Eliza Brodes probably didn’t consider their absence as an escape attempt for some time. Two weeks later, she posted a Cambridge escape notice Democrat , offering a bounty of up to $100 for each returned slave. ^[44] When they left, the Tubman brothers changed their minds. Ben may have just become a father. The two men returned, forcing Tubman to return with them. ^[45]

Soon after, Tubman ran away again, this time without her brothers. ^[46] She tried to inform her mother in advance of her plans. She sang a coded song to Maria, a trusted enslaved comrade, and it was a farewell. “I’ll meet you in the morning,” she intoned, “I’m on my way to the promised land.” ^[47] Although her exact route is unknown, Tubman used a network known as the Underground Railroad. This informal but well-organized system consisted of free and enslaved blacks, white abolitionists, and other activists. The most prominent among the latter in Maryland at the time were the members of the Religious Society of Friends, often referred to as Quakers. ^[46] In Preston The area near Poplar Neck had a significant Quaker community and was probably an important first stop during Tubman’s escape. ^[48] From there she probably took the usual route for people fleeing slavery – northeast along the Choptank River, across the Delaware and then north into Pennsylvania. ^[49] Traveling on foot nearly 90 miles (145 km) would take five days to three weeks. ^[50]

Tubman had to drive at night, guided by the North Star and trying to avoid slave catchers seeking to collect bounties for runaway slaves. ^[51] The “conductors” of the Met used deception to protect themselves. At an early stop, the hostess instructed Tubman to sweep the yard to give the impression that he was working for the family. When night fell, the family hid her in a cart and took her to a nearby cozy house. ^[52] Given her familiarity with the forests and swamps of the region, Tubman probably hid in these areas during the day. ^[49] The details of her first journey are unknown; as other escapees from slavery used routes, Tubman did not discuss them until later years. ^[53] She moved to Pennsylvania with a sense of relief and awe and remembered what happened years later:

When I found that I had crossed that line, I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such glory over everything; the sun, like gold, broke through the trees and fields, and I felt as if I were in heaven. ^[47]

Nicknamed “Moses”

Harriet Ross Tubman

After reaching Philadelphia, Tubman thought about her family. “I was a stranger in a strange land,” she later said. “[My] father, my mother, my brothers, sisters and friends were [in Maryland]. ^[54] She worked odd jobs and saved money. inciting to escape and forcing law enforcement officials—even to states that outlawed slavery—to help in their capture.The law increased the risks for fugitive enslaved people, most of whom therefore sought refuge in Southern Ontario (then part of the United Province of Canada) which, under British Empire, had abolished slavery.^[56] Racial tensions also escalated in Philadelphia as a wave of poor Irish immigrants competed with free blacks for jobs. ^[57]

In December 1850, Tubman was warned that her niece Kessia and her two children, six-year-old James Alfred and baby Araminta, would soon be sold in Cambridge. Tubman went to Baltimore, where her son-in-law Tom Tubman hid her until the sale. Kessia’s husband, a free black man named John Bowley, made the winning bid for his wife. Then, when the auctioneer left for lunch, John, Kessia, and their children fled to a nearby house. safe house. When night fell, Bowley set out with his family in a log canoe 60 miles (97 kilometers) to Baltimore, where they met with Tubman, who brought the family to Philadelphia. ^[58]

Early the next year, she returned to Maryland to help take other family members away. During her second journey, she found her brother Moses and two unknown men. ^[59] Tubman probably worked with abolitionist Thomas Garrett Quaker based in Wilmington, Delaware. ^[60] Rumors of her exploits encouraged her family, and biographers agree that she grew more confident with each trip to Maryland. ^[59] ^[61]

In late 1851, Tubman returned to Dorchester County for the first time since her escape, this time to find her husband John. She saved up money at various jobs, bought him a suit and went south. Meanwhile, John married another woman named Caroline. Tubman sent word that he should join her, but he insisted that he was happy where he was. Tubman at first prepared to storm their house and make a scene, but then decided that he was not worth it. Suppressing her anger, she found enslaved people who wanted to escape and brought them to Philadelphia. ^[62] John and Caroline raised a family together until he was killed 16 years later in a roadside argument with a white man named Robert Vincent. ^[63]

Frederick Douglass, who worked with Tubman to abolish slavery, praised her in print.

As the Fugitive Slave Act made the northern United States a more dangerous place for fugitive slaves to live, many fugitive slaves began migrating to Southern Ontario. In December 1851, Tubman led an unidentified group of 11 fugitives, possibly including Bowley and several others she had helped rescue earlier, north. There is reason to believe that Tubman and her group were staying at the home of an abolitionist and former slave. Frederick Douglas. ^[64] In his third autobiography, Douglas wrote: “Once there were eleven fugitives under my roof at the same time, and it was necessary for them that they stay with me until I had collected enough money to send them to Canada. were once, and it was difficult for me to provide food and shelter for so many people … ” ^[65] The number of travelers and the time of visit suggest that this was Tubman’s group. ^[64]

Douglas and Tubman greatly admired each other, as they both fought against slavery.When an early biography of Tubman was being prepared in 1868, Douglas wrote a letter in her honor.He compared his own efforts to hers, writing:

The difference between us is very noticeable. Much of what I have done and suffered in the service of our cause has been public and I have received great support every step of the way. You worked privately. I worked during the day and you worked at night. … The midnight sky and the silent stars have witnessed your devotion to freedom and your heroism. Other than John Brown – sacred memory – I don’t know anyone who would willingly face more danger and hardship to serve our enslaved people than you. ^[66]

Over the course of 11 years, Tubman repeatedly returned to the east coast of Maryland, rescuing about 70 slaves on 13 expeditions. ^[2] including her other brothers, Henry, Ben and Robert, their wives and some of their children. She also gave specific instructions to another 50-60 fugitives who fled north. ^[2] Because of her efforts she was nicknamed “Moses”, alluding to the prophet in the Book of Exodus who led the Jews to freedom from Egypt. ^[67] One of her last missions to Maryland was to bring her aging parents back. Her father, Ben, bought her mother Reet in 1855 from Eliza Brodes for $20. ^[68] But even when they were both free, the area became hostile to their presence. Two years later, Tubman received word that her father was facing arrest for harboring a group of eight escaped slaves. She traveled to the east coast and led them north to St. Catharines, Ontario, where a community of former slaves (including the Tubman brothers, other relatives, and many friends) had gathered. ^[69]

Routes and methods

Tubman’s dangerous work required great ingenuity; she usually worked during the winter to minimize the chance of the group being spotted. One Tubman fan said, “She always came in the winter when the nights are long and dark and people who have houses stay in them.” ^[70] After she made contact with the escaping slaves, they left the city on Saturday evening, as the newspapers did not print notices of the escape until Monday morning. ^[71]

Traveling to the land of slavery put her at great risk, and she used various tricks to avoid detection. Tubman once disguised herself as a hood and carried two live chickens to give the appearance of running errands. Suddenly finding herself going to her former mistress in Dorchester County, she tugged on the strings holding the bird’s legs, and their excitement allowed her to avoid eye contact. ^[72] She later recognized the train companion as another former owner; she grabbed the nearest newspaper and pretended to read. Tubman was known for her illiteracy and the man ignored her. ^[73]

During an interview with the author Wilbur Siebert In 1897, Tubman named some of the people who helped her and the places she stopped along the Underground Railroad. She stayed with Sam Green, a free black minister living in East New Market, Maryland; she also hid near her parents’ house in Topol-Shei. She would travel from there northeast to Sandtown and Willow Grove, Delaware, and to the Camden area, where free black agents, William and Nat Brinkley and Abraham Gibbs, were traversing her northern past. Dover, Smyrna, and Blackbird, where other agents would carry her across the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal to New Castle and Wilmington. In Wilmington, Quaker Thomas Garrett provided transportation to William Still’s offices or the homes of other underground railroad operators in the Greater Philadelphia area. Still credited with helping hundreds of freedom seekers in safer locations upstate New York. New England, and present-day Southern Ontario. ^[74]

Tubman’s religious faith was another important resource as she ventured into Maryland on numerous occasions. The visions continued due to a childhood head injury, and she considered them divine. premonitions. She spoke of “counseling with God” and trusted that He would protect her. ^[75] Thomas Garrett once said of her, “I have never met a person of any color who trusted more in the voice of God speaking directly to her soul.” ^[76] Her faith in the divine was also an immediate help. She used the spiritual ones as coded messages, warning fellow travelers of danger or pointing to a clear path. She sang a version of “Come Down Moses” and changed the lyrics to indicate that it was safe or too dangerous to continue. ^[77] When she brought the fugitives across the border, she shouted: “Praise God and Jesus too. Another soul is safe!” ^[78]

She carried a revolver and was not afraid to use it. The pistol offered some protection against the ubiquitous slave-catchers and their dogs; however, she also allegedly threatened to shoot any escaped slave who tried to turn back en route, as this would endanger the safety of the remaining group. ^[79] Tubman told a story about a man who insisted on his return to the plantation when the morale of a group of runaway slaves fell. She pointed the gun at his head and said, “Go or die.” ^[80] A few days later he was with the group when they entered Canada. ^[75]

Meanwhile, the slave owners in this region never knew that “Minty”, a petite, five-foot (150 cm), disabled slave who escaped years ago and never returned, was responsible for so many slave escapes in their community. . By the late 1850s, they began to suspect that a northern white abolitionist was secretly stealing their slaves. Although there is a popular legend about the $40,000 reward (equivalent to $1,138,220 in 2019year) to capture Tubman, this is a fictitious figure. In 1868, in an attempt to rally support for Tubman’s Civil War military pension claim, a former abolitionist named Sally Holly wrote an article arguing that $40,000 was “not much of a reward for Maryland slave owners to offer her.” ^[81] Such a high award would have attracted the attention of the country, especially at a time when a small farm could be bought for as little as $400 (equivalent to $11,380 in 2019).year), and the federal government offered $25,000 for the capture of each of John Wilkes Booth’s accomplices in the assassination of President Lincoln in 1865. A reward of $12,000 has also been claimed, although no documentation has been found for any of these figures. Catherine Clinton suggests that the $40,000 figure could be the cumulative sum of the various awards being offered across the region. ^[82]

Despite the efforts of the slave owners, Tubman and the fugitives she helped were never captured. Years later, she told an audience, “I was a subway conductor for eight years, and I can say something that most conductors can’t: I’ve never run my train off track and I’ve never lost a passenger.” ^[3]

John Brown and Harpers Ferry

Main article: John Brown’s Harpers Ferry Raid

Tubman helped John Brown plan and recruit for the Harpers Ferry raid.

In April 1858, Tubman was introduced to an abolitionist. John Brown, a rebel who advocated the use of violence to abolish slavery in the United States. Although she never advocated violence against whites, she agreed with his course of direct action and supported his goals. ^[83] Like Tubman, he spoke of being called by God and trusting the divine to protect him from the wrath of the slave owners. Meanwhile, she claimed that prior to their meeting, she had a prophetic vision of meeting Brown. ^[84]

Thus, when he began to recruit supporters to attack the slave owners, “General Tubman”, as he called her, joined Brown. ^[83] Her knowledge of support networks and resources in the border states of Pennsylvania, Maryland and Delaware was invaluable to Brown and his planners. Although other abolitionists such as Douglas disapproved of his tactics, Brown dreamed of fighting to establish a new state for freed slaves and prepared for military action. He believed that after he started the first battle, the slaves would rise up and start an uprising in the slave states. ^[85] He asked Tubman to round up former slaves then living in present-day Southern Ontario who might be willing to join his fighting force, which she did. ^[86]

On May 8, 1858, Brown held a meeting in Chatham, Ontario, where he unveiled his plan for the raid on Harpers Ferry, Virginia. ^[87] When the plan was leaked to the government, Brown put the scheme on hold and began raising funds for its eventual renewal. Tubman helped him with this and made more detailed plans for the assault. ^[88]

Tubman was busy during this time speaking to an abolitionist audience and caring for her relatives. In late 1859, as Brown and his men prepared to attack, Tubman could not be contacted. ^[89] When the raid on Harper’s Ferry took place on October 16, Tubman was not there. Some historians believe she was in New York at the time and contracted a fever related to a childhood head injury. ^[89] Others suggest that she may have recruited more fugitive slaves in Ontario. ^[90] and Keith Clifford Larson suggests she may have been in Maryland recruiting for the Brown raid or trying to save more family members. ^[91] Larson also notes that Tubman may have begun to share Frederick Douglas’ doubts about the viability of the plan. ^[91]

Raid failed; Brown was convicted of treason and hanged in December. His actions were seen by many abolitionists as a symbol of the proud resistance put up by the noble martyr. ^[92] Tubman herself boasted. She later told a friend, “Dying, she did more than 100 people living.” ^[93]

Auburn and Margaret

In early 1859, a Republican US senator who abolished the death penalty. William H. Seward sold Tubman a small piece of land on the outskirts of Auburn, New York for US$1,200 (equivalent to US$34,150 in 2019). ^[94] The city was a hotbed of anti-slavery activists, and Tubman took the opportunity to save her parents from the harsh Canadian winters. ^[95] Returning to the US meant that escaped slaves risked being returned to the South under the Fugitive Slave Act, and the Tubman siblings expressed reservations. Catherine Clinton suggests that anger over Dred Scott’s 1857 decision may have prompted Tubman to return to the US. ^[95] Her Auburn land became a haven for Tubman’s family and friends. For years, she has hosted relatives and residents, offering a safe haven for black Americans seeking a better life in the north. ^[63]

Shortly after purchasing the Auburn property, Tubman returned to Maryland and returned with her “niece,” an eight-year-old fair-skinned black girl named Margaret. ^[95] There is much confusion about the identity of Margaret’s parents, although Tubman indicated that they were Free Blacks. The girl left a twin brother and both parents in Maryland. ^[95] ^[96] Years later, Margaret’s daughter Alice called Tubman’s actions selfish, saying: “She took the child from a protected good home to a place where there was no one to take care of her.” ^[97] Alice described it as a “kidnapping”. ^[98]

However, both Clinton and Larson suggest that Margaret was in fact Tubman’s daughter. ^[99] ^[100] Larson points out that the two share an unusually strong bond, and argues that Tubman – aware of the pain of a child separated from her mother – would never deliberately split a free family. ^[101] Clinton presents evidence of a strong physical resemblance, which Alice herself acknowledged. ^[99] Both historians agree that no concrete evidence of such a possibility has been found, and the mystery of Tubman’s relationship with the young Margaret remains to this day. ^[102]

In November 1860, Tubman made her last rescue operation. Throughout the 1850s, Tubman was unable to effect the escape of her sister Rachel and Rachel’s two children, Ben and Angerina. Back in Dorchester County, Tubman discovered that Rachel had died and the children could only be saved if she could pay a $30 bribe (equivalent to $850 in 2019year). She had no money, so the children remained slaves. Their fates remain unknown. Tubman, never wasting time, gathered another group, including the Ennoll family, ready and willing to take the risk of traveling north. It took them weeks to get away safely because the slave catchers kept them in hiding for longer than expected. The weather was unseasonably cold and food was scarce. The children were paregorically befuddled to keep quiet while the slave patrols passed. They arrived safely at the home of David and Martha Wright in Auburn on December 28, 1860. ^[103]

American Civil War

Tubman in the late 1860s.

When the Civil War broke out in 1861, Tubman saw the Union victory as a key step towards the abolition of slavery. General Benjamin Butler, for example, aided fugitive slaves flooded Fort Monroe in Virginia. ^[104] Butler declared these fugitives “smuggling” – property seized by northern troops – and forced them to work, initially for free, in the fort. ^[105] Tubman also hoped to share her experience and skills with the Union cause, and she soon joined a Boston and Philadelphia abolitionist group heading to the Hilton Head neighborhood in South Carolina. She became an integral part of the camps, especially in Port Royal, South Carolina, helping fugitives. ^[106]

Tubman met with General David Hunter, a strong abolitionist. He declared free all “contraband” in the Port Royal area and began to collect former slaves for a regiment of black soldiers. ^[107] US President Abraham Lincoln, however, was unprepared for the forced liberation of the southern states and reprimanded Hunter for his actions. ^[107] Tubman denounced Lincoln’s response and his general reluctance to consider ending slavery in the US for both moral and practical reasons. “God won’t let Mr. Lincoln defeat the South until he’s the right thing ,” she said.

Master Lincoln, he is a great man, and I am a poor negro; but a negro can tell Mr. Lincoln how to save money and young people. He can do this by freeing the Negro. Suppose there was a terribly large snake down there on the floor. He bites you. People are all scared because you’re going to die. You send for the doctor to cut the bite; but the snake, he rolled up there, and while the doctor is doing this, he bit you is again . The doctor dug up which bite; but while the doctor is doing this, the snake jumped up and bit you again; So he keep doing this until you kill him . Here’s what Mr. Lincoln needs to know. ^[108]

Tubman served as a nurse in Port Royal, preparing medicines from local plants and helping soldiers suffering from dysentery. Helped men with smallpox; The fact that she did not contract the disease herself gave rise to more rumors that she was blessed by God. ^[109] At first she received government rations for her work, but recently freed blacks thought she was being treated differently. To ease the tension, she gave up her rights to those supplies and made a living selling pies and root beers she made in the evenings. ^[110]

Reconnaissance and raid on the Combachee River

When Lincoln finally issued the Emancipation Proclamation in January 1863, Tubman considered it an important step towards freeing all black people from slavery. ^[111] She again supported the defeat of the Confederacy, and soon she was leading a force of scouts across the land around Port Royal. ^[112] The swamps and rivers in South Carolina were similar to those on the east coast of Maryland; thus her knowledge of secret travels and subterfuge among potential enemies was put to good use. ^[112] Her group, working on orders from Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, mapped out unfamiliar terrain and scouted out its inhabitants. She later worked alongside Colonel James Montgomery, and provided him with key information that helped capture Jacksonville, Florida. ^[113]

Woodcut Tubman in her Civil War clothes

Later that year, Tubman became the first woman to lead an armed assault during the Civil War. ^[114] When Montgomery and his troops attacked a collection of plantations along the Combahee River, Tubman served as a key adviser and accompanied the raid. On the morning of June 2, 1863, Tubman sailed three steamboats around the Confederate mines in the waters leading to the shore. ^[115] Once ashore, Union troops set fire to plantations, destroying infrastructure and seizing thousands of dollars worth of food and supplies. ^[116] As the steamers whistled, slaves everywhere knew they were being set free. Tubman watched as the slaves rushed towards the boats. “I’ve never seen such a sight,” she later said, ^[117] describes a scene of chaos: women carrying pots of rice still steaming, pigs squealing in bags slung over their shoulders, and babies hanging from their parents’ necks. Although their owners, armed with pistols and whips, tried to stop the mass escape, their efforts were almost useless in the confusion. ^[116] As the Confederate troops raced to the scene, steamboats full of slaves left for Beaufort. ^[118]

More than 750 slaves were rescued during the raid on the Kombahi River. ^[119] ^[120] Newspapers proclaimed Tubman’s “patriotism, insight, energy and ability”, ^[121] and she was praised for her recruiting efforts – most of the newly released men went into the Union army. ^[122] Tubman later worked with Colonel Robert Gould Shaw in the attack on Fort Wagner, reportedly serving him his last meal. ^[123] She described the battle, saying: “And then we saw lightning, and it was guns; and then we heard thunder, and it was big guns; and then we heard it raining, and it was drops of blood. fell; and when we came to harvest, we reaped dead people.” 125] She also periodically came to Auburn to visit her family and take care of her parents.0382 [126] The Confederacy surrendered in April 1865; after donating a few more months of service, Tubman went home to Auburn. ^[127]

On a train trip to New York in 1869, the conductor told her to move from the section at half price to the baggage car. She refused, showing her government-issued documents authorizing her to go there. He swore and grabbed her, but she resisted, and he called for help from two other passengers. When she grabbed the railing, they pushed her away, breaking her arm in the process. They threw her into the baggage car, causing more injuries. As these events occurred, other white passengers cursed Tubman and yelled at the conductor to kick her off the train. ^[128] Her act of defiance became a historical symbol, later mentioned when Rosa Parks refused to move from her seat on a bus in 1955. ^[129] ^[130]

Later life

Harriet Tubman after the Civil War

Despite years of service, Tubman never received a regular salary and was denied compensation for years. ^[131] ^[132] Her unofficial status and unequal pay to black soldiers made it difficult to document her service, and the US government was slow to acknowledge its debt to her. ^[133] Meanwhile, her constant humanitarian work for her family and former slaves kept her in perpetual poverty, and the difficulties of obtaining a state pension were especially difficult for her. ^[134]

Tubman spent her remaining years in Auburn caring for her family and others in need. She worked various jobs to support her elderly parents and took in tenants to help pay the bills. ^[63] One of the people Tubman received was a farmer named Nelson Charles Davis, 5 feet 11 inches (180 cm). Born in North Carolina, he served as a private in the 8th American Colored Infantry Regiment from September 1863 to November 1865. ^[135] He started working in the Auburn as a bricklayer and they soon fell in love. Although he was 22 years her junior, they married on March 18, 1869 at Central Presbyterian Church. ^[136] ^[137] They adopted a girl named Gertie in 1874 and lived together as a family; Nelson died October 14, 1888 from tuberculosis. ^[138] ^[139]

Meanwhile, Tubman’s friends and supporters have raised funds to support her since the death penalty. One fan, Sarah Hopkins Bradford wrote an official biography titled Scenes from the Life of Harriet Tubman . The 132-page volume was published in 1869 and earned Tubman about $1,200 in revenue. ^[140] Criticized by modern biographers for artistic freedom and a very subjective point of view. ^[141] the book, however, remains an important source of information and perspectives on Tubman’s life. In 1886 Bradford produced a rewritten volume, also intended to alleviate Tubman’s poverty, under the title Harriet, Moses of Her People . ^[142] Both volumes proclaim Harriet Tubman a new woman. Joan of Arc. ^[143] ^[144]

Tubman in 1887 (far left), with her husband Davis (seated, with cane), adopted daughter Gertie (next to Tubman), Lee Cheney, John “Pop” Alexander, Walter Green, “Blind Aunt” Sarah Parker and her great girlfriend. – Dora Stewart’s niece at Tubman’s home in Auburn, New York

Faced with accumulating debts (including payments for her Auburn property), Tubman was the victim of a gold transfer scam in 1873. Two men, one named Stevenson and the other John Thomas, claimed to have a cache of gold smuggled out of South Carolina. ^[145] ^[146] They offered this treasure – worth about $5,000 they claimed – for $2,000 in cash. They insisted that they knew Tubman’s relative, and she took them to her home, where they stayed for several days. ^[147] She knew that white men in the South were burying valuables when Union forces threatened the region, and that black men were often assigned to excavate. Thus, the situation seemed plausible, and the combination of her financial problems and her kind nature made her go along with the plan. ^[145] She borrowed money from a wealthy friend named Anthony Shimer and agreed that one late evening she would receive the gold. However, once the men had lured her into the woods, they attacked her and knocked out the chloroform, then stole her purse and tied and gagged her. When her family found her, she was stunned and injured, and the money was missing. ^[145] ^[148]

New York reacted with outrage at the incident, and while some criticized Tubman for her naivety, most sympathized with her economic difficulties and criticized the swindlers. ^[149] This incident refreshed the public’s memory of her past service and her economic problems. In 1874, Representatives Clinton D. McDougall of New York and Jerry W. Hazelton of Wisconsin introduced a bill (H.R. 2711/3786) providing that Tubman would be paid “the sum of $2,000 for the services rendered by her to the Union army as a scout, nurse and spy. ^[150] The bill was rejected in the Senate. ^[151]

B Dependency and Disability Pensions Act 1890 made Tubman eligible for a pension as the widow of Nelson Davis. After she documented her marriage and her husband’s record to the satisfaction of the Bureau of Pensions, in 1895 Tubman was awarded a monthly widow’s pension of $8 (equivalent to $250 in 2019) plus a lump sum of $500 ( equivalent to $15,370 in 2019) to cover a five-year approval delay. ^[152] ^[153] ^[154] December 1897, New York Congresswoman Sereno E. Payne introduced a bill to give Tubman a $25 monthly soldier’s pension for her Civil War service (equivalent to $770 in 2019). ^[154] ^[155] Although Congress received papers and letters in support of Tubman’s claims, some members objected to the woman being given a full soldier’s pension. ^[153] ^[156] ^[157] In February 1899 Congress passed and President William McKinley signed H.R. 4982, who approved a compromise of $20 a month ($8 from her widow’s pension plus $12 for her work as a nurse), but did not recognize her as an intelligence officer and spy. ^[153] ^[158] In 2003, Congress approved an additional pension payment of $11,750 to compensate for an alleged shortfall in payments made during her lifetime. The money was used to maintain the respective historical sites. ^[159]

Suffrage activism

Harriet Tubman, 1911.

In her later years, Tubman worked to advance the cause of women’s voting rights. One day, a white woman asked Tubman if she thought women should have the right to vote, and received the answer: “I suffered enough to believe it. ” ^[160] Tubman began attending meetings of suffragette organizations, and soon began working alongside women such as Susan B. Anthony and Emily Howland. ^[161] ^[162]

Tubman traveled to New York, Boston and Washington DC. to speak out in favor of women’s suffrage. She described her actions during and after the Civil War and used the sacrifices of countless women throughout modern history as proof of the equality of women and men. ^[163] When the National Federation of African American Women was founded in 1896, Tubman was the keynote speaker at its first meeting. ^[164]

This wave of activity caused a new wave of admiration for Tubman in the United States press. Edition titled Women’s Era launched a series of articles on “Eminent Women” with Tubman’s profile. ^[164] The 1897 Suffragette Newspaper reported a series of receptions in Boston honoring Tubman and her lifelong service to the nation. However, due to her endless donations to other people, she ended up in poverty and had to sell her cow to buy a train ticket for these celebrations. ^[165]

AME Zion Church, illness and death

At the turn of the 20th century, Tubman became actively involved in the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in Auburn. At 19In 03, she donated a property she owned to the church with instructions to turn it into a home for “the elderly and low-income people of color.” ^[166] The house didn’t open for another five years, and Tubman was dismayed when the church ordered residents to pay $100 to get in. She said, “[T]hey will make a rule that no one should come in unless they have a hundred dollars. Now I wanted to make a rule that no one should enter unless they have any money.” ^[167] She was disappointed with the new rule but was nevertheless the guest of honor when the Harriet Tubman Nursing Home celebrated its opening on June 23, 1908 years. ^[168]

As Tubman grew older, her childhood seizures, headaches, and suffering from a head injury continued to plague her. At some point in the late 1890s, she underwent brain surgery at Boston’s Massachusetts General Hospital. Unable to sleep due to the pain and buzzing in her head, she asked the doctor if he could have surgery. He agreed and, in her words, “sawed through my skull and lifted it, and now I feel more comfortable.” ^[169] She did not receive anesthesia for the procedure and was reported to be bitten by a bullet instead, as she saw Civil War soldiers do when their limbs were amputated. ^[170]

By 1911, Tubman’s body was so fragile that she was placed in a rest home named after her. She was described as “sick and penniless” by a New York newspaper, prompting supporters to make another round of donations. ^[171] Surrounded by friends and family, she died of pneumonia in 1913. ^[171] Shortly before her death, she said to those present in the room: “I’m going to prepare a place for you. ” ^[172] Tubman was buried with paramilitary honors at Fort Hill Cemetery in Auburn. ^[173]

Legacy

Tubman plaque in Auburn, New York, installed in 1914.

Widely known and respected during his lifetime, Tubman became an American icon years after his death. ^[174] A poll conducted at the end of the 20th century named her one of the most famous civilians in pre-Civil War American history, only third behind Betsy Ross and Paul Revere. ^[175] She inspired generations of African-Americans to fight for equality and civil rights; she was praised by leaders across the political spectrum. ^[176] The City of Auburn commemorated her life with a plaque on the courthouse. Although he showed pride in her many accomplishments, the dialect (“I nebber go astray”), chosen apparently for its authenticity, has been criticized for undermining her status as an American patriot and committed humanitarian. ^[173] Nevertheless, the dedication ceremony was a powerful tribute to her memory, and Booker T. Washington gave the keynote address. ^[177]

Museums and historical sites

In 1937, a headstone for Harriet Tubman was erected by the Empire State Federation of Women’s Clubs; it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999. ^[178] The Harriet Tubman House was abandoned after 1920, but was later renovated by AME Zion Church and opened as a museum and educational center. ^[179] The Harriet Tubman Memorial Library was opened nearby in 1979. ^[180]

In southern Ontario, the Salem Chapel BME Church was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1999 on the recommendation of the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada. ^[181] The St. Catharines Ontario Chapel was the center of Tubman’s life in the city when she lived nearby, at the Underground Railroad’s main station and at the center of abolitionist work. In Tubman’s time, the chapel was known as Bethel Chapel and was part of the African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME), until changed to the British Methodist Episcopal Church in 1856. and monuments recommended it in 2005. ^[183]

Harriet Tubman Museum in Cape May, NJ

Back in 2008, advocacy groups in Maryland and New York and their federal representatives pushed for legislation to create two national historic parks in Harriet’s honor Tubman: one, including her birthplace on the east coast of Maryland and sections along the Underground Railroad route to Caroline, Dorchester and Talbot counties in Maryland; and the second to include her home in Auburn. ^[184] Over the next six years relevant bills were introduced but never passed. In 2013, President Barack Obama used his executive powers to create the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Monument, consisting of federal lands on Maryland’s eastern shore in the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. ^[185]

In December 2014, permission to designate the National Historical Park was included in the National Defense Act 2015. ^[186] both parties and signed by President Obama on December 19, 2014. ^[188] ^[189] The Harriet Tubman National Historical Park in Auburn, approved by law, was established on January 10, 2017. ^[190] In March 2017, the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor Center was inaugurated in Maryland at the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Metro State Park. ^[191] The act also created Maryland’s Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Metro National Historic Park within the permitted national monument boundary, allowing later additional acquisitions. ^[189] The Harriet Tubman Museum opened in Cape May, New Jersey in 2020. ^[192]

The National Museum of African American History and Culture has items belonging to Tubman, including cutlery, a hymnal, and a linen and silk shawl given to her by Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom. Related items include a photographic portrait of Tubman (one of the few known to exist) and three postcards depicting Tubman’s 1913 funeral. ^[193]

The official prototype of the $20 bill was prepared by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing in 2016.

$20 bill

On April 20, 2016, US Treasury Secretary Jack Lew announced plans to place Tubman’s portrait on the front of the $20 bill, moving the portrait of President Andrew Jackson, himself a slave owner, to the back of the bill. ^[194] Lew directed the Bureau of Engraving and Printing to expedite the redesign process, ^[195] The new bill is expected to come into circulation sometime after 2020. ^[196] However, US Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin said in 2017 that he would not commit to putting Tubman on the $20 bill, saying, “People have been in the accounts for a long period of time. This is what we’ll be looking at; right now we have much more important issues to focus on.” ^[197]

Harriet Tubman Book Award

The Lapidus Center for Historical Analysis of Transatlantic Slavery awards an annual Harriet Tubman Award for “the best nonfiction book published in the United States on the Atlantic slave trade, slavery, and antislavery. ” ^[198]

Artistic representations

Jane DeDecker Statue Tubman Memorial Day in Ypsilanti, Michigan

Tubman is the subject of works of art including songs, novels, sculptures, paintings, films and theatrical productions. Musicians glorified her in such works as “The Ballad of Harriet Tubman” by Woody Guthrie, the song “Harriet Tubman” by Walter Robinson and the instrumental “Harriet Tubman” by Wynton Marsalis. ^[199]

Theater and Opera

There have been several operas based on Tubman’s life, including Thea Musgrave with Harriet, a Woman Called Moses , which premiered in 1985. ^[200] Plays based on Tubman’s life date back to the 1930s when May Miller and Willis Richardson included a play about Tubman in their 1934 collection A History of the Negro in Thirteen Pieces . ^[201] Other Tubman plays include Harriet’s Return Karen Jones Meadows and Harriet Tubman visits GP with Caroline Gage. ^[202]

Literature

In printed fiction in 1948, Tubman was the subject of Ann Parrish’s The Foggy Star , a biographical novel that has been criticized for presenting negative stereotypes of African Americans. ^[203] A Woman Called Moses , a 1976 novel by Marcy Heidish, has been criticized for portraying a drinking, material, and sexually active version of Tubman. Tubman biographer James A. McGowan called the novel a “deliberate misrepresentation”. ^[204] 2019 novel Tubman’s team of to Elizabeth Cobbs focuses on Tubman’s lead in the raid on the Combachee River. ^[205] Tubman also appears as a character in other novels such as Terry Bisson’s 1988 science fiction novel Fire on the Mountain ^[206] and James McBride’s 2013 novel Good Lord Bird . ^[207]

Film and television

Tubman’s life was dramatized on television at 1963 CBS series Big Adventure episode “Get Down Moses” starring Ruby Dee Tubman. In December 1978, Cicely Tyson portrayed her for the NBC miniseries A Woman Called Moses , based on the novel by Heidish. ^[208] In 2017, Aisha Hinds portrayed Tubman in the second season of the WGN America series Underground . ^[209] In 2018, Christine Horne portrayed her in an episode of the sci-fi series Out of Time , which focuses on her role in the Civil War. ^[210] Harriet , a biopic starring Cynthia Erivo, premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2019. ^[211] The production received good reviews, ^[212] ^[213] and nominations for the Academy Award for Best Actress ^[214] and Best Song. ^[215] The film became “one of the most successful biographical dramas in the history of Russia. Focus Features” and was $43 million on a production budget of $17 million. ^[214] ^[216]

Monuments and memorials

Tubman sculptures have been installed in several American cities. The 1993 Underground Railroad Memorial by Ed Dwight in Battle Creek, Michigan features Tubman leading a group of slaves to freedom. In 1995, sculptor Jane DeDecker created a statue of Tubman leading a child, who was placed in Mesa, Arizona. Copies of DeDecker’s statue have subsequently been installed in several other cities, including Brenau University in Gainesville, Georgia. It was the first statue of Tubman in an institution in the Old South. ^[217] City of Boston commissioned Step aboard , a 10-foot-tall (3.0 m) bronze sculpture by artist Fern Cunningham, placed at the entrance to Harriet Tubman Park in 1999. It was the first monument to a woman on urban land. ^[218] Swing Low , a 13-foot (400 cm) Tubman statue by Alison Saar, erected in Manhattan in 2008. ^[217] In 2009, Salisbury University in Salisbury, Maryland unveiled a statue designed by James Hill , professor of arts at the university. This is the first sculpture of Tubman installed in the region where she was born. ^[219]

Art

Artists have portrayed Tubman as an inspirational figure. In 1931, artist Aaron Douglas completed The Spirits Risen , a Tubman mural at Bennett College for Women in Greensboro, North Carolina. Douglas said he wanted to portray Tubman as a “heroic leader” who would “idealize the superior type of Negro woman”. ^[220] A series of paintings about Tubman’s life. Jacob Lawrence appeared at the Museum of Modern Art in New York at 1940 year. He called Tubman’s life “one of the great American sagas”. ^[221] On February 1, 1978, the United States Postal Service issued a Tubman 13-cent stamp, designed by artist Jerry Pinckney. She was the first African American woman to be honored on a U.S. postage stamp. A second 32 cent stamp featuring Tubman was issued on June 29, 1995. ^[222] ^[223] In 2019, artist Michael Rosato depicted Tubman on a mural of U.S. Route 50, near Cambridge, Maryland, and another mural in Cambridge on the side of the Harriet Tubman Museum. ^[224]

Other honors and commemorations

Tubman is celebrated with Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, and Sojourner Truth in the calendar of saints of the Episcopal Church on July 20th. The calendar of saints from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America remembers Tubman and Sogerner Eastt on March 10th. Since 2003, New York State has also celebrated Tubman’s March 10, although the day is not a public holiday. ^[225] ^[226]

Numerous structures, organizations, and other entities have been named after Tubman. These include dozens of schools, ^[225] streets and highways in several states, ^[227] and various church groups, community organizations and government agencies. ^[228] In 1944, the USMC launched SS Harriet Tubman , its first Liberty Ship ever named after a black woman. ^[229] An asteroid, (241528) Tubman, was named after her in 2014. ^[230] The section of Wyman Park Dell in Baltimore, Maryland was renamed Harriet Tubman Grove in March 2018; the grove used to house a double equestrian statue of Confederate generals. Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, which was among four statues removed from public spaces in Baltimore in August 2017. ^[231]

Tubman was posthumously inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame in 1973, ^[232] and the Maryland Women’s Hall of Fame in 1985. ^[233]

Historiography

Tubman, which was published after Sarah Hopkins Bradford’s 1869 and 1886 books, was Earl Conrad c Harriet Tubman (1943). ^[234] Conrad had great difficulty finding a publisher – the search lasted four years – and endured contempt and contempt for his efforts to create a more objective and detailed account of Tubman’s life for adults. ^[229] Several highly dramatized versions of Tubman’s life were written for children, and many more were written later, but Conrad wrote in an academic style to document the historical significance of her work for scholars and the collective memory of the nation. ^[235] The book was finally published by Carter G. Woodson “Associated Press” in 1943. ^[236] Although she was a popular significant historical figure, another adult biography of Tubman did not appear for 60 years when Jean Youmes published a detailed reading of Tubman’s life stories in 2003. Larson and Clinton published their biographies soon after in 2004. Author Milton S. Sernett discusses all of Tubman’s major biographies in his 2007 book. 9 Sernett 2007, p. 223.

Sources

Bradford, Sarah Hopkins (1961) [1886]. Harriet Tubman: Moses of her people . New York: Corinth Books. LCCN 61008152.

Bradford, Sarah Hopkins (1971) [1869]. Scenes from the Life of Harriet Tubman . Freeport: Books for Libraries Press. ISBN 0-8369-8782-9.

Clinton, Katherine (2004). Harriet Tubman: Road to Freedom . New York: Little, Brown and Company. ISBN 0-316-14492-4 .

Conrad, count (1943). Harriet Tubman . Washington DC: Associated Publishers. OCLC 089
.

Douglas, Frederick (1969) [1881]. The Life and Times of Frederick Douglas . London: Collier-Macmillan. OCLC 366.

Hobson, Janell (July 2014). “Between History and Fantasy: Harriet Tubman in the Fiction and the Popular Imaginary.” Meridians: feminism, race, transnationalism . 12 (2): 50–77. Doi:10.2979 / meridians.12.2.50. S2CID 145721375.

Humes, Jean (2003). Harriet Tubman: Life and stories from the life of . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. ISBN 978-0-299-19120-7 .

Larson, Kate Clifford (2004). Towards the Promised Land: Harriet Tubman, Portrait of an American Hero . New York: Ballantine Books. ISBN 978-0-345-45627-4 .

Ertel, Kristen T. (2015). Harriet Tubman: Slavery, Civil War, and Civil Rights in Nineteenth-Century America . Routledge, Historic Americans. London: Routledge. ISBN 978-1-135--9 .

Pendle, Karin Anna (2001). Women and Music: A History . Bloomington: Indiana University Press. ISBN 0-253-11503-5 .

Sernett, Milton S. (2007). Harriet Tubman: Myth, Memory and History . Durham and London: Duke University Press. ISBN 978-0-8223-4073-7 .

external link

Works by or about Harriet Tubman at Internet Archive

Harriet Tubman: Online Resources, from Library of Congress

Full text Scenes from the Life of Harriet Tubman at North Carolina University Hill

Harriet Tubman biography page from Kate Larson

Harriet Tubman WebQuest: Path to Freedom – Scholastic.com

To Tubman Museum of African American History

Harriet Tubman National Historical Park

Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park

Michals, Debra. “Harriet Tubman”. National Women’s History Museum. 2015

Maurer, Elizabeth L. “Harriet Tubman”. National Women’s History Museum. 2016

LAND OF FANCY – read free online the full version of the book by Edward Lee0001

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5

Edward Lee
“LAND OF CRAZY”

“Stick Woman”

– I definitely wouldn’t become a millionaire spending my money on anything, so why spend good money on toilet paper, hmm? he had told her that first night, six years ago. – You my dear are now my toilet paper and you will remain it unless you want me to kill your son.

Will he really do it?

– No, – said Priscilla.

She didn’t believe him. Even a sociopath like Fenton wouldn’t kill their only child . And the request he made? What lunatic would want that?

However, the answer came that evening, when her loving husband put on TV a few of the hundreds of videos she had to watch over the next five years. Snuff Movies she guessed what they were called. Home video. People in masks beat children, rape them, kill them. Priscilla was certain that one of the masked men was Fenton. One who is… sick, – she realized – can be capable of all .

– Okay. The word scratched her throat like a nail on a stone. What could she do? Call it a bluff? Ricky is all she has left in the world, even in this world, in this basement prison where Fenton sent her, in this dementia ward that would make the Marquis de Sade regurgitate his dinner. “I’ll do whatever you say,” Priscilla Brenworth agreed the next day. “Just don’t…maim…our son.”

A few moments later, Fenton was doubled over in his Italian trousers. Priscilla’s face drooped, but she did it, and now she knew she would always do it. He will kill our son. He will kill Ricky. So do it! Do this!

– Good, good, obedient wife, – Fenton chuckled. – Nice and clean…

* * *

Psychopath, but rich. Priscilla only discovered the pathological quirks of Fenton Collins Brenworth after her own greed allowed her to marry him. Too late she thought.

For fifteen years she was his beautiful furniture at the country club, former model, socialite who gave him a beautiful child. She couldn’t explain Fenton’s disease from just a fragment of an abnormal psychology course in Maryland. Symbolic rectal possession. Sociopath stage. Transitive oral analysis with volitional misogynistic syndrome . Fenton’s perversion was rooted in a multifaceted hatred of women, and by forcing her to do so, “symbol” became “flesh. ” Hence her imprisonment in general, and the anal situation in particular. One night she just woke up in the basement with a bump on her head.

– I told everyone that you left me for another man, returned to your hometown.

It was so flawlessly simple. No living relatives, no friends? Who will ask? Why would anyone suspect anything so vicious about a multi-millionaire everyone loved?

The basement had a toilet, a 4K Ultra Sony 50-inch flat screen TV and a chair. After the first year, the chair was replaced with a wheelchair to accommodate her sudden lack of legs. One night she tried to kick him. Biggest mistake.

– Next time I’ll cut off your hands, dear. If you ever try to hurt me again. And if you ever hesitate to satisfy my need, I will kill Richard. He is now a freshman at Princeton. Excellent grades, just like his dear old dad.

Over the years, Fenton showed videos: Richard’s first car, Richard in a tuxedo before prom, Richard’s high school graduation, etc. Priscilla cried.

– So, – he explained to her, – You will lick the feces from my rectum whenever I want.

– Why? Why? she sobbed in convulsions. – Why are you doing this to me?

– Why? he chuckled. – Because I’m crazy.

This is the position Priscilla Brenworth put herself in to keep her son alive. Two, three, even four times a day, Fenton unlocked the door to the basement, went downstairs and defecate in the closet. Then he leaned over to stand in front of the wheelchair, after which Priscilla buried her face in his bulging buttocks, licking him clean. And he had a gift for funny remarks during her service:

– Sichuan beef last night. Can you taste the pepper?

Or:

– Forgive the diarrhea, honey. I’ve been feeling a little nauseous lately.

At night, he aggressively lifted her from the chair and sodomized her, entering the intestines, and then ordered him to give him a blowjob:

– This is the right time to try yourself to taste.

And sometimes he peed into her bowels, filling her until she swelled up.

– Don’t worry, dear. It was almost a whole bottle of “Montrachet” 57th [1]. I only piss the best in my wife’s ass.

Then, of course, she made her way to the toilet seat and was emptied by a powerful, still warm stream.

* * *

After so many years, her clothes have rotted away, leaving her sitting naked in a wheelchair, mindlessly watching soap operas and talk shows. One day, Jerry Springer[2] invited a group of adults who belonged to a diaper-wearing organization into the studio. Yes, seemingly normal adults who would come home from their respectable jobs and then put on diapers and sit in playpens with their spouses.

– This is absolutely normal, – insisted the chairman of the “club”. – It takes us back to our childhood, reformulates childhood ideals to relieve the stressors of adulthood.

– You’re sick! one of the spectators shouted back.

But Priscilla just shook her head. Buddy, if you think he’s sick, meet my husband.

* * *

Worst of all, of course, was the taste of his excrement in her mouth. Semi-sweet, with a creamy sheen that lasts for several hours. She was rinsing her mouth with toilet water because Fenton deliberately forgot to supply her with a toothbrush, a sink, Listerine, etc. In her fourth year, Priscilla’s teeth turned into black, shaggy pebbles, and she spat each of them like ugly pills .

He fed her when he remembered with an open can of spaghetti and a glass of water, usually twice a day. From time to time, however, he forgot about it, sometimes for several days, so that by now her body had turned into something like a living skeleton: less than ninety pounds, the head a skin-covered skull. The once opulent breasts were now empty shreds of flesh. The lines between her ribs reminded her of footage from the death camp, and her hair, long gray, had grown to the floor. Tufts of hair under her arms, a tuft of hair between her legs like a rat’s nest, hair down her legs to bulging stumps where her feet used to be. And not being able to bathe for six years only added the finishing touches to the horror show that was now her life. Her own scents horrified her. Every night she dreamed of herself in Bosch’s hell: a skinny cretin with protruding hips and buttocks devoid of flesh, being eaten by beaked demons.

* * *

The TV could neither be turned off nor turned down, and whenever Fenton wanted to disgust her further, he turned on more underground pornography. Images that defied description and only reinforced her conviction that she had married the most vicious man who had ever lived. One moment she stared blankly at “The Big Bang Theory”[4] , and the next, a new amplitude of disgust. Where does he get these films? And who makes them? It was hard to imagine the scum selling such tapes, but there was always Fenton himself, proving the validity of the market.

Bestiality was a favorite of Fenton Brenworth, some films had modest titles such as: “Cooking Bacon”, “Riding Around” and “Dog Afternoon” . There was another one called “Birth Attraction” in which several men committed adultery with a drugged woman who was nine months pregnant. Their relationship became so frantic that eventually her water broke. Men urinate on women, vomit on them, inserting every conceivable object, including dead snakes, eels, and fish, into their rectums and vaginal shafts. More women, apparently drug addicts, drinking glasses of piss, eating excrement with a spoon, shitting on each other, twitching for the next dose. In one film, a woman was extracting yeast and chlamydia secretions from another woman’s vagina with a spoon, and then, without batting an eyelid, ate a spoonful of this “paste”, while another woman sucked pus from herpetic rectums and gonococcal penises with the same indifference . Other films were even worse: gang rapes, beatings, torture. The female victims squealed with bulging eyes as long needles calmly pierced breasts, nipples, clitoris and even open eyes. And of course, the aforementioned snuff films. In one film, a woman was skinned alive; in another, rectal retractors were used to stretch the woman’s anus until it was fully open; she screamed and vomited as the hooks were inserted, her anus slowly but surely stretched out in pink loops. Women were strangled, stabbed, shot in the head, forced to eat parts of themselves, and eventually bled to death. In one movie, a woman’s head was cut off with a saw, after which some crazy man inserted his penis into his open esophagus to copulate.

No, there was no end to the films, and obviously there was no end to the absolute evil of people.

And also, there seemed to be no end to the torment of Priscilla Brenworth, as a living bearer of the same evil.

* * *

After four years, he cut off her hands. She was watching some kind of police show where the tactical officer was talking about the dangers of human hands.

“It takes only twenty-six pounds of pressure to break a man’s neck,” continued the expert, who had the highest experience. “I once saw a dealer gouge out a soldier’s eye with a flick of his thumb. I saw an ambulance girl kill a doctor by simply hitting him on the nose with the back of her hand. We’re talking about a hundred pound junkie knocking out a healthy man twice her size. The blow pressed the roots of the hair right into the brain …

This theory fascinated Priscilla (foolish hope) and she literally followed the good officer’s advice to the last letter, with all her might. But alas – an uncertain blow only broke Fenton’s nose. He said nothing, left the basement and returned a few minutes later with a rope and a hacksaw. He then strangled her until she lost consciousness. When she woke up, she found stumps at the ends of her arms, the blood flow was stopped by tourniquets. Her hands, thrown into the corner next to her feet, decayed to the point of mummification. Over time, she noticed that her nails continued to grow.

Food was hard to come by, but eventually she learned to use her stumps with enough skill not to starve to death. Now she had chopsticks instead of hands. Like an insect wielding its appendages, it turned over a jar of spaghetti and shook out the contents, then ate it from the floor. Grabbing a glass of water was harder, but she learned that too. A cheerful woman, in other words, adaptable. A gnarled bone on her right wrist allowed her to change TV channels, and getting into the toilet soon became nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Now she has become a real stick woman: sticks instead of legs, sticks instead of hands, a scarecrow from the death camp with skin as white as a trout’s belly.

And at least she calmed down. What else could he cut off without killing her?

“Ricky graduated from Princeton today,” Fenton announced proudly as Priscilla awoke from hunger. – I flew to the ceremony, so I couldn’t feed you for several days.

Like an animal, Priscilla pulled the spaghetti out of the jar and sucked it off the floor. Then Fenton made the expected bowel movement and turned his buttocks towards her.

“God, how I missed that,” he told her as she licked off the rest. He then raped her, pissed on her vagina and ejaculated in her hair. “And I have more good news, dear. Our son is officially engaged!

Priscilla almost passed out again when her husband pulled up his trousers and became even more delighted:

– You know that DePayster girl from the Potomac? You went to the bridge club with her mother. They’ll make a great couple, won’t they? Soon we will have grandchildren, dear! Isn’t it wonderful?

Tears burned Priscilla’s eyes as she looked at the grinning monster. Then she turned off again.

* * *

From time to time Fenton would bring her what he called a “treat”. Vagabonds, vagabonds, homeless people. He found them at random, brought them with his eyes closed, and then showed them to them.

– A thousand dollars, as I promised, – announced Fenton and gave the money to the tramp.

They didn’t say a word as they raped her right on the floor, their bodies stank, their skin covered in all sorts of sores, rashes, eczema, etc. All the while, Fenton stood aside, watching the degradation with glee in his eyes. The worst part was sucking: a stench she couldn’t imagine, sagging scrotums unwashed for years, flesh heavy with smegma that dissolved on her tongue as she choked.

– Oh, don’t be such a whiner, dear. A little sloppy curd never hurt anyone. If you’re good, maybe next time I’ll bring some crackers.

As they left, she lay paralyzed on the floor, covered in disgusting clammy sweat, scabs, dandruff, and drying semen. He once brought in a tramp whose penis was so large that she felt dismembered.

– I found it especially for you, dear. Women always want a big dick. Well… here it is!

Her rectum bled for several days.

* * *

Suicide was out of the question. How could she kill herself? Breaking the TV screen was impossible; it was built into the wall and coated with Lexan[6]. Drown yourself in the toilet, smash your head on the floor in the hope of a hematoma? No, even in her hell, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, because if he caught her and she survived, her torment would be even worse. But deep down, though she may not have realized it, there was some potential case for which she lived.

Death of Fenton.

* * *

Another day without food or water. Priscilla knelt by the toilet to get drunk when the TV blared. She saw her own face in the reflection of the water, and her heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was she was the being looking back.

“…according to the UN, at least 10,000 more Rwandan Tutsis were killed by the militia while trying to escape,” the wooden-faced announcer said dryly.

More news after this:

-. ..charged with forty-four counts of child abuse during the three years that he served as pastor. Authorities allege that Father Winhurst regularly molested the children in the confessional…

-…week-old baby found in trash can…

Evil is everywhere, – a disturbing thought came. – And what God can allow all this?

“…an angel came to me,” the woman boasted with tears in her eyes as Priscilla changed the channel. I saw her standing right in front of me. She was all glowing and smiling, and she told me that the cancer, Sue Ann, would go away at night. And it happened! The next day, the doctors gave me an MRI and it disappeared like it never existed! Angels really exist! Miracles do happen!…

Angels? Miracles? Not here, , Priscilla thought.

But when she changed the channel again, her eyes were glued to the screen. The ambulance is parked in front of a large, luxurious open-air hall. A huge white cake, long tables draped in pink linen. Gloomy men in tuxedos and overdressed aristocrats stand and watch. Watched two more. Beautiful girl in a white wedding dress. A tall, handsome young man whose troubled face seemed all too familiar. It was her son. It was Ricky.

The paramedics quickly wheeled the stretcher into the ambulance.

Fenton lay on a stretcher.

-… an untimely tragedy when multimillionaire Fenton Collins Brenworth, a respected businessman and frequent philanthropist, collapsed from a heart attack during his son’s wedding ceremony…

Priscilla stared in amazement. She thought about angels. She thought of miracles.

If God really exists, she thought, if miracles really exist…

-…Brenworth’s estranged wife, beauty pageant queen and former model of famous agency “Kinion” cannot be found for comment…

Please die…. Please say he is dead….

– Mr. Brentworth died en route to the Southern District Hospital. Divine services will take place…

She didn’t need to hear anything anymore; her prayer was heard, her miracle happened.

Priscilla’s heart was pounding. Someone will be coming to the house soon – Ricky, lawyers, auditors – anyone. If I can get up the stairs and knock on the door… they will hear me…

I… I… I…

Priscilla’s skin tingled with something like new life.

I am free.

* * *

She seemed to have been waiting for a whole week, although in reality it had only been a day and a half. Time dripped like wax. Her wrists were bleeding, pushing the rubber wheels of the infernal chair to the end of the stinking room. She clambered up the stairs on her forearms like a worm, dragging her hairy, tinder-like legs behind her. Three times she had to repeat the trip to get drunk from the toilet.

And she waited and waited until….

Clicking sounds and metallic clicking! woke her from her throbbing sleep. The door began to open.

– Help! Help me! she yelled with all her might, pounding her skinned and bloodied bumps on the door frame. – Let me out!

However, in her zeal, in the chill of this exciting and even angelic animation, she lost her balance, raised herself on her hip and…

– Oh shit!

…staggered back and rolled down the stairs.

God! Still, Priscilla can handle it, right? After being raped by vagrants, urinating into her, starving her, and separating her limbs? Forbidden to wash, forced to watch underground pornography, threatened to kill her only child, forced to lick feces from her husband’s rectum – six years ? Of course, falling down the stairs was nothing compared to that.

She hit her head, awkwardly straightened up and focused her sunken eyes (like those of a Dachau prisoner) on the flight of stairs. A timid, indecisive figure lingered …

– Help me!

…a then started to descend.

Then this man, this angel, more resplendent than Archangel Gabriel himself, stepped out into the fetid light. It was Ricky

– Are… are you… are you all right?

Priscilla crawled forward on her wrists and knees, her matted hair shaking in white flakes, her stomach sucking.

– Ricky! her dry shriek rang out. – I saw the wedding on the news, I saw the heart attack! I know how I should look, but don’t be afraid! It’s me! It’s your mother! Fenton cut off my arms and legs and kept me here naked for six years!

The figure above her froze.

– Ah, well… I know.

– You…

Priscilla swallowed in bewilderment with the same confidence with which she had swallowed feces, semen, smegma, urine and, of course, spaghetti in the past.

– Dad told me everything, – confirmed her son, – while we were watching the video upstairs. Great stuff, right? Especially snuff. But I just want you to know that it’s okay.

OK , she thought, looking like the dead from the corpse pit.

– Are you okay?

– I even came here sometimes when you were sleeping in your chair to look at you. You are really very beautiful, mom. Ricky put two open cans of spaghetti on the table. “It’s a pity you haven’t been fed for so long, complications, you know, with the wedding and the death of your father, and all that.” Wendy is wonderful. Wendy DePaister? You remember her. You went to the bridge club with her mother. She’s so beautiful, mom and… well, I didn’t tell dad about it, but… she’s already pregnant. You will have a grandson in eight months!

The word escaped her soul:

– Great.

Then two more words:

– God. My.

– You’ll make be , right? Ricky asked his mother politely. – I mean, you know, if you don’t, I have no choice but to kill the child. I would have to rape a child to death and film it to make you watch. You don’t want me to do this, do you?

Priscilla began to vomit and defecate at the same time when she saw what her beloved son was doing.

He dropped his pants, sat down on the toilet and moved his bowels quite loudly.

Then he got up, turned around, bent down and spread his hands around his buttocks.

– You’ll make this , won’t you, Mom? How did you do for dad?

Then Priscilla, instinctively, crawled forward on her knees. After all, she has to think about the baby, right? Yes, she crawled forward and began to lick.

translation: Gena Crocodiles

“Toilet”

[- final version -]

– World, – the protagonist whispers under his breath.

This is a very tense and focused whisper. He stares intently out the window. It’s so dark outside. Surrealistically dark, like anthracite in bright light. He thinks of some Lovecraftian offshoot caused by occult science. The blackness is all-pervasive and indescribable. Luminous Abyss…

Yes , I think. – World .

In your head you hear Howard Devoto’s greatest words[7]:

– This is forever, the final edition…

[- delicate scraps -]

This is a song by Throwing Muses[8] . Perhaps one day he will start his own band and call it “Throwing Up Muses” because that’s how he feels most of the time when he dares to look out the window. Music is muse. Oh, Sisters of the Heavenly Source, help my poetry and arm my prose, let the word be a mirror of the essence. Dante corrupted.

The protagonist had dreams based on music similar to Shelley’s[9] stuff that was on the radio in the old days, or on the tapes of all those “Fields of the Nephilim”[10] and “Skinny Puppy”[11] purchased from a recording studio. Exquisite spectacular nightmares – and, yes! – to which he really relates. It’s a cumulative process, you know. Music that flows down the sewer pipe of his mind.

It’s really his sewer pipe, but it’s not his shit that’s flowing in there. This is the shit of the whole world.

Flesh merged with grey, stoic metal. Blood from engine oil, joints on ball bearings and bones from metal alloys. Droppers dangle morphine/epinephrine needles genetically fused into worm-like blue veins as the pulsation continues…

Clashing industrial metal pulses like thin cutters in his head, penetrating deep into the pulp of his brain.

To get to some really good shit.

[- world news -]

Woman, former nurse in Rio de Janeiro, knocked out her ex-boyfriend with sodium amobarbital, and when he woke up he was handcuffed to her bed; she cut off his penis with roof shears, injected him with deoxin to keep him from passing out, and then cut his penis into small pieces with a knife and fork, and forced him to eat piece by piece.

Interesting question, at least…

What does raw cock taste like?

The flourishing of the culinary arts!

Fondue from a member. Sweet and sour penis. Spicy thick dick soup. Chilled tender boiled penis in mustard-sorrel sauce. Braised dick.

* * *

A Seattle man pretended to be delighted when his wife announced she was pregnant; when she was in her ninth month, two men pulled her out of a car at a mall, drove her to an empty office building that was about to be demolished, dragged her to the fourth floor and threw her into an elevator shaft, and then threw cinder blocks on her stomach until she had a miscarriage and she did not die.

The husband paid them $250 each for their work.

* * *

Anne Arundel County Police will tell you that Davidsonville, Maryland is the “best body dump” in the state.

* * *

Florida man gets 25 years in prison for raping a 15-year-old girl and cutting off her arms at the elbow. The girl did not die, so he could not be accused of murder.

He was released after 8 years for good behaviour.

Soon after, he raped, then killed, and then raped another woman again.

* * *

90,002 The Serbs killed about 250,000 Bosniaks and raped over 60,000 women and children under military orders. Members of the Serbian guards who managed to impregnate the detained Bosniaks received written thanks and additional vacations for the weekend. The Bosnians did the same thing to the Serbs for 400 years, but that’s beside the point, and it was all 20 years ago anyway. Compared to ISIS, they all look like amateurs.

* * *

Trade deficit be damned! Who said foreign countries don’t buy American goods? The Chilean secret police once used, among other things, Black & Decker power tools to torture “political” criminals.

This name can be trusted. Black and Decker.

* * *

90,002 10,000 American children disappear each year and never return.

[- pedophilia party, rock it! -]

It’s OK for a Democratic congressman to have sex with 16 year old boys, but – God forbid! – if a Republican congressman has sex with 16-year-old girls, you will have to pay a hell of a lot for it.

* * *

In Nuremberg, Germany, you could watch a porn movie where two German guys had sex with 6 year old children. They smeared their 30cm penises with Vaseline and got to work.

Very gently, of course.

Because then child pornography was legal.

* * *

According to an FBI log given to you by an ex-girlfriend, there is an organization in America known as “The Network” that includes coded “mailing lists” and anonymous “points” through which child pornography videos are distributed to thirsty customers. “KP” and “Kiddy” is what the feds call it. They are almost sure that this industry brings in half a billion dollars in profit a year, and no one knows about it. Children are kidnapped, “turned” and put on the “show” until they get too old – about 12 – then forced to work on the street until they are 18, counting the “losses”. Then they sell the children to Mexico, Saudi Arabia and Japan.

* * *

Rocco “The Eye” Monstroni ran a local “point” based in Sicily, a criminal gang. Someone snitched on him, and he asked to be put into the “Federal Witness Protection Program” for an identity change in exchange for testifying. He spun like a top. He “sang” like my fucking green parakeet, and the feds put half a dozen smarties in a stone motel for life plus ninety-nine years.

After the trial, the federal prosecutor asked Monstroni:

– How could you do such a thing? How can you engage in child pornography?

Monstroni glared and replied:

– I didn’t do anything. The sick bastards who buy this shit are the ones who do it. If people want something and are willing to pay, then there will always be someone who will give it to them. To be honest, I was sick of this shit.

An interesting point of view, however.

Well done Americans! Real fellows!

[- use every opportunity, in the army -]

– Tastes like pork when cooked properly. Grind it up and fry it, making sure to add some fat and finely chopped wild onions,” Sergeant Sand told the wide-eyed reverently attentive recruit. – When you’re in an ambush, in the bushes and dying of hunger… You’ll eat it like a sweetie.

* * *

An anti-personnel weapon known as the “Beehive” – best wishes to the US military command. Tank projectile 105 or 120 mm, with a remote fuse. The projectile contains 1500 “striking elements” or spikes, deliberately rusted to provoke latent blood poisoning. It’s like a shotgun blast, but made from a tank.

– The Beehive, Westmore, recommends Sergeant Sand. – If you’re ever in combat, load more Hives into the ammo rack. One warhead will clear a packed football field, I say. We pinned the enemy’s cross-eyed children to trees, at ten cents a dozen, with Beehives.

* * *

Bravo 1/83, 3rd Brigade, 1st Panzer Division, Erlangen, West Germany.

I was in the battalion’s maintenance hangar polishing wrenches by hand because IG[12] inspection is due soon. Checks, bitch, it’s all show, I must say. So, on the reference platform, the M88 crane operator was lifting a five-ton diesel engine with a capacity of 750 horsepower, handed over for repair of the M60A1 series tank. The engine is suspended about seven feet in the air, and then some black-assed mechanic goes under the engine to open the plug. A blue static pre-chill runs down my spine as I freeze in the hangar, watching: – he’s dead – I think, and indeed, the operator’s hand slips and the five-ton engine falls right on the black mechanic’s head. In a state of visual shock, I call the medical unit, and at this time my platoon commander, a certain Johnny Brown – a West Point graduate – a purulent bastard, commander of an armored platoon and, pay attention, who does not know the difference between a tank track and a race track, breaks into the hangar and orders :

– Fuck you, Westmore! What are you doing near the phone! Get your ass over here and hose the blood off the court as soon as possible! We have an inspector in less than an hour! I’m not going to suck him because you’re wasting your time calling an ambulance for a dead nigga!

[- Sergeant Sand’s album -]

You know it’s all true, everything he did. ..

Sand the winner, his M60[13], oddly enough, without a canal tow truck[14], took up a defensive position in the Vietnamese jungle behind a wooden palisade. A severed human head sticks out at the end of one of the stakes.

* * *

Sand’s German girlfriend, on all fours, spreads her anus to a round, empty hole the size of the top of a beer can, and Sand is about to put his fist in there.

* * *

Sand smiles in the jungle showing the prize. Human hand.

* * *

Sand smiles as he sits on some crusty couch in a Saigon brothel. Other servicemen toss dollar bills and military pay certificates like confetti while a South Vietnamese prostitute eats shit off the floor.

* * *

Sand opens his palms to reveal two human ears and what is likely a severed human penis.

* * *

Sand stands in the jungle with his arms folded, looking down and apparently waiting for his turn, while a staff sergeant copulates with the bottom of a dead flip flops torn in half by an M-18 Claymore anti-personnel mine.

* * *

Oh yes. You know it’s all true…

* * *

Because you saw the pictures in Sergeant Sand’s photo album.

[- narrow-eyed girl on the phone -]

– You don’t believe everything you read, do you? she asked over the phone on a day when the light was silver and the ticking of the clock strangely loud, and there was more venom in her voice than in the venom glands of a coral snake.

Relationships ended.

– No, – I answered in a voice similar to a mountain collapse. – But I fucking believe everything I see…

[- seer -]

It’s such a fine line between what is a blessing and what is a curse.

I am a seer, you think as you look out the window.

And I… see… this…

[- noise, rage and peep show -]

The protagonist has always felt that he is a very visual person. The sight captivates him. He is a seer, he needs to see.

And his world has never been stingy with sights.

The world is , the main character thinks.

Such a visual world…

* * *

“Dog Days Past”, “Cooking Bacon”, “Riding Around”: Women in sunglasses fuck dogs, blow pigs, jerk horses in the stables. He saw them all in Baltimore, which is no surprise. The pig bites one of the girls and the other girls laugh. A German Shepherd copulates violently with a brunette who looks suspiciously like Martha Davis, lead singer of The Motels. The dirty blonde frowns under the pot-bellied horse, her hands tugging at the long pink rod until it is expelled profusely into a plastic bag. After said ejection, she brings the bag to her face.

New York, 8th Avenue & 42nd Street : a fat, mustachioed bald guy pounding a fat, sausage-sized, hard-on blonde, more beautiful than any woman the protagonist has ever seen in own life; she is perfection, chaste roundness, burning blue eyes and blond hair shining like silk. She is flawless, perfect. The guy sodomizes her so violently that at least an inch of her rectum falls out with each blow. As a result, her rectum begins to bleed. After a while, the man comes out of her, ejaculates in her face, then wipes his bloody penis on her beautiful, silky blonde hair.

Ron J. Extravaganza : Here it is, a kaleidoscope of sex with the same fat face, Ron J. copulates with holes in all sorts of ways, bending gorgeous women in half, pushing their knees back to their ears, doggy style, from behind, upside down, one boring movie after another. In one movie, Ron even sucks himself off – what a guy! And when the Master is finished, he is always obliged to release the seed in their faces or backs charmingly, as if doing his duty.

Ron Fucking J., yes sir. He knows exactly how to treat a woman right – give yourself a pat on the back, Ron; it’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it, so it can be you and not someone else. That shaggy, pot-bellied, indecent slob got it all, didn’t he? He got the opportunity to constantly have sex with beautiful women, and . .. he gets paid for it. I read in an adult video directory that Ron Jeremy has appeared in over 1000 porn movies. This is what I call a real contribution to the development of society.

If I ever see that disgusting, effeminate, borscht-filled, fat bastard on the street, I’ll vomit.

Sticking to Mom : Two giggling black guys with sausage-like penises hanging in a smokehouse take turns committing adultery with a white woman who looks about nine and a half months pregnant. Eventually her water breaks and she passes out, but the two guys masturbate into her hair anyway.

Eau de toilette :

– I… I just can’t resist! she announces as she enters the hall.

She immediately pulls up her skirt and urinates profusely on the floor. Exhausted by a hundred slapsticks, but still somehow dazzlingly elegant, the blonde proves her exclusivity by not hesitating for a minute, urinating into a large glass of brandy and immediately swallowing from it.

– I can’t help myself! she confirms, whimpering emotionally.

Bright blue walls, like in the song “Aerosmith”[16], and “Oingo Boingo”[17] is played from the radio in the background. She looks the part: white high heels, black stockings, light pink blouse, dark pink miniskirt, black marijuana cigarettes, smeared makeup is a real lust. She pees in steady streams into the air, douses herself with 7UP soda, settles on all fours, and then spews wine from her anus like a hose. From time to time, the operator enters the frame, drinks beer in large gulps and pisses on her face and mouth, then ejaculates on her face. Then she comes in the door, drops her purse on the floor, squats down, urinates in her purse and drinks from it. In the next shots, she is in the bathroom, and what is she doing? She inserts a whole banana into her vaginal shaft. When he is all inside, she stands with her legs apart, over the toilet and with the help of very dexterous pelvic muscles, she throws the banana piece by piece into the toilet. Plop, plop, plop, comes out piece by piece. Then she gets on her knees, licks the edge of the toilet and starts eating the banana pieces. Eventually the operator returns (hey, when a man wants to use the toilet, he goes to the toilet), holds her head in the toilet bowl, and pours the next beer piss on her head while she enthusiastically laps the toilet water.

Not exactly the kind of girl you want to bring home to meet mom and dad.

“Boo Boo” : Famous New York again. For an hour in this sick rectal hole in the city, I thought I saw everything, but, man, how wrong I was. I went into a peep show booth called Boo Boo. What could it be? – I wonder, lowering the tokens into the slot. Ah, people have sex, but with a twist: all participants have some form of at least one sexually transmitted disease. A pretty girl smiles, showing off reddened oral herpes bulges on her lips, while her erect admirer squeezes gonococcal pus out of his penis before putting it in her mouth. When she’s finished, another erection rages into the camera’s field of view, on the head of which are two syphilitic nodes the size of baby glass balls. The nail breaks the crust from the pustules and then the fellatio continues. Here’s another girl opening her labia with her fingers for the camera to show a thin white layer of chlamydia to another girl dipping her tongue to examine a cheese dish. And the last frame: a man vigorously copulates with a sleek blonde on something like a kitchen table. He pulls back to ejaculate on her belly, then the camera zooms in for a candid close-up. The penis is so inflamed with herpetic sores that it looks like a shiny, blood-red “Pay Day”[18]. The girl leans forward to take it in her mouth and I puke before I get out of the booth.

“Long” Jean Silver : The girl’s name is Jean and she’s as cute as all of them. The “girl next door” with a typical appearance, honey blonde, slim and fit, with a peach-cream complexion. She must have been a cheerleader in high school. She is wearing an elegant floral dress, fern green, beautiful. She quickly kneels in front of another woman whose legs are spread on the couch. Jin performs a deft and thorough cunnilingus and then…

Lubricates his elegant, well-groomed hands with some nameless lubricant until they shine like wet varnish, and then…

Puts lubricated palms together and simultaneously inserts both hands – that’s right, both hands – into the other woman’s vagina until they sink an inch above the wrists.

Is that all?

No, no, that’s not all.

Jin gets up, takes off his beautiful dress and sits on the couch, talking softly. Now that she is naked, her beauty is even more evident. Her flawless skin is radiant, her perfect blonde hair seems to shimmer with her smile. Her breasts are perfect too, not too small, not too big, tall, firm, size 34 B[19]. But…

…something…

What the fuck?

…wrong.

Over time, the discrepancy becomes noticeable. Jin’s left leg is artificial. Below the knee, flesh-colored plastic shines dazzlingly. And then Gene removes the prosthesis from his leg.

What’s left is a long, skin-covered bone. There is no foot at its end, only a slight thickening. The remnants of hair darken the atrophied limb, which is dotted with small red sores.

She raises her hip, deftly wielding her emaciated shin like an insect’s front paw. She then proceeds to lubricate it from the knee to the bulge with oil, after which she inserts it without hesitation into the vaginal cavity of another woman, more than a foot deep.

* * *

Have you seen enough, seer?

Hmmm? Are you a seer?

* * *

But seeing is what he must always do. This is a curse. He is helpless.

He must see.

He must see what the world is.

[- whores of West Street -]

He never fails. Whenever the protagonist leaves the Sheep’s Head Tavern[20], the traffic light next to the hotel switches to red and they exit like pus spewing from ulcers in the night. The black pimp stops abruptly, jumps out of his battered Camaro, and drags the white hillbilly by the hair into the car. His fist behind the windshield goes up and down for what seems like a few minutes, and then the girl is thrown out of the car. She staggers in a daze, her face bloodied.

Knock-knock-knock, finger on the glass. The protagonist lowers the passenger window an inch and the skinny white prostitute grins with broken teeth.

“Fifteen bucks a client,” she promises. – And no rubber. How about this? I will suck your pee so hard that smoke will come out of your ass.

– Uh… No, thank you, – the main character replies, thinking: Jesus Christ, when will this traffic light switch!

– Okay, ten. Or maybe you want to fuck me. Twenty to fuck me and you don’t have to use a rubber band.

– No thanks.

– Yes, okay! Let’s have some fun. How about fucking in the ass? Forty bucks. Do you want to fuck me in the ass?

– No. No thanks.

– Okay, I’ll tell you. Do you want something special, huh?

– Nnnnn…, – the main character starts, but then stops.

There he is again with his damned curiosity. He suddenly has no choice. He must ask.

– What, uh… What’s special?

– I usually charge fifty, but you’re… thirty-five, because I can see that you’re a good guy. Here’s what I’ll let you do, imagine you can fuck me in the ass, but before you cum, you pull out and then I suck you. We call it “ Shit-on-a-Stick Special ”.

The main character’s head is spinning. He runs a red light and is pulled over by a police officer at the next intersection.

[- wall ad -]

“YOU KNOW I WANT TO DO IT BUT YOU DON’T SHIT SO FUCK YOU BITCH I’M NOT GONNA DO THIS! INSTEAD OF THIS, DO IT TO YOURSELF.”

(Graffiti found on the wall of a ladies’ room in New London, Connecticut, June 2002. Apparently written in blood. )

[- intersection of 1st St and 14th -]

Tramp urinates on Kojak’s Sandwich Shop, gurgles phlegm, then dies while you hold your half-eaten steak, egg and cheese. A black woman lightly punches a vein in a bandaged arm above the elbow, then injects heroin while sitting on a park bench as you and your friends stroll casually. Mentally ill and epileptics murmur, intricate curses pouring from foaming mouths. In the alley behind the Roy Rogers restaurant, three teenagers are giggling as they urinate on a swaddled homeless woman trying to hide under cardboard. The city is growing, an asphalt abscess. In the pitch darkness of the Dave & Lee parking lot, a man is defecating on a car. On the corner, near the liquor store, there is a bloodstain in the shape of West Virginia. The sound gets closer – BOOM BOOM BOOM! – when you turn a corner. One person hits another on the head with a wooden block. BOOM BOOM BOOM! Rats, the size of puppies, greedily eat a puddle of vomit near a garbage can. A man rises from a garbage can, rubbing his eyes. There is a short burst from the machine gun, then the car hurriedly leaves.

– “Toad”, “Ice”, “Coke Smoke”[21]? asks the black guy on the corner of Capital Books.

– Boobs, clits and an icy “Schlitz”[22]! – promises barker in front of a nightclub. – Seventeen boobs, nine cunts and nine assholes!

Another barker in front of the porn parlor proudly announces:

– Newest movies just today guys. See for yourself. Fisting, shit eating, bestiality. We have a great movie in which a really hot chick sticks needles in her tits and squeezes out blood. Come in and have a good time.

And when you finally leave this abyss, this gorge of human garbage, the guy is still hitting the other guy in the head with a block of wood.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

[- graffiti series -]

“Rippy sucks.

Rippy eats shit.

Who is Rippy?

I hate Rippy.

FUCK WHO IS RIPPIE?

Rippy is dead. I killed him”.

(A series of graffiti found in the men’s room at the St. Pete Beach Tavern in Florida.)

[- conclusion with a philosophical question -]

Every time I look out of that damn window, I just lean forward and vomit, more with my heart than my stomach. Yes, I am a seer – what a joke! If I see anything else…

If another drug addict tries to rob me, if another bum tries to swindle me for money, another skinny drug addict prostitute will play a cruel joke on me if another sociopathic fucking white Maryland trash in a police pickup picks up my tail for I was driving over that fucking speed limit…

Oh, sorry, forgive me for being politically incorrect. Forgive me for being insensitive to others. Forgive me for ignoring the fact that I am to blame for every whore and drunkard and drug addict and criminal and every unmotivated act that has happened in the past. Forgive me for not being able to understand what my fault is that everyone is so screwed up.

Porn movies, piss movies, bestiality movies, “Long” Jean, fucking, Silver and her hairy, skinned bone, herpes, AIDS, hepatitis B, drug addicts, pimps, dealers on every corner, buggers teach boys in gyms kindergartens that sodomize four-year-olds, skinheads with a swastika tattooed on their chests, hymen-breaking evangelists, a United Way manager[23] hires Concord[24] to dine in London, murderers jump out of prison after three years in prison, robbers break into your house and when you shoot them, they sue you – and win. Liars, thieves, scammers, all self-centered and fucking everyone else, “North American Love Associations Between Men and Boys”, satanic churches where membership requires an ounce of your firstborn’s blood, as well as KKK[25] and brawls in the Los Angeles legislature ; and it’s okay to rape and kill and rob because four asshole cops beat the shit out of some asshole with a mile-long rap sheet who was driving drunk at a hundred miles an hour through a residential area; and bicep pumping serial killers and social welfare cocaine addicts and gang rapes and nailing parties and nerve gas and 5 kiloton nuclear warheads the size of a Coca-Cola can and people pissing and shitting on the fucking street and stealing ninety-year-old women for their social security and raping them on top of it, and sadism and masochism support groups, and rehab for killers, and “Sexomaniacs Anonymous”, and open disdain for fagots, and Maryland congressional faggots who pick up sixteen year old boys at night and vote against gay rights by day, and senators who use drugs and write to call girls about their taxes, and judges who take bribes, and a lot of congressmen who fuck children and stay in office because of a “miscarriage of justice” , and traitorous lobbyists, and state legislation banning the distribution of free condoms in high schools, and the CIA buying Ger oin, and mutual support between members of Congress, and deficits, and police bribes, and nine-year-old boys with MAC-10s, and three-hundred-pound women in “ Safeway”[27], using food stamps to buy the best steaks I have ever eaten in my life, and more congressmen missing votes because they are raking in their speaking fees because they can’t live $180,000 a year, and newborn babies left in dumpsters, and self-abortion kits, and how-to-two-step-explosive-devices-from-common-food instructions, and psychopathic military veterinarians and baby stealing clubs and guys who copulate with pregnant girls until their water breaks and fourth-page killers for hire and hot shots and street gangs raping nuns and priests sodomizing boys in confessionals, and “death camps,” and “rape camps,” and “ Shit-on-a-Stick Special ”. ..

So, let me now reveal to you the summary of this inquisitive philosophical manifesto:

The world is a fucking toilet.

[- final version -]

Yes, Devoto’s song again. The protagonist rides through a dank, fetid, so familiar night. It has just rained, and the black streets glisten like strange, otherworldly frost. The dome of the building of the House of Representatives glows blue at dusk – an azure skull. A redneck in a pickup is tailing him for speeding, and at a traffic light a black kid spits on his car and says savagely, “White bastard,” as if it’s the main character’s fault that the guy’s ancestors were slaves, and then the prostitute exhales, “Fuck you,” a cadaverous stench in his face as he informs her that he is not interested in her offer to exchange currency for sexual favors.

But now the main character is shrugging his shoulders and smiling. He’s cool, he’s got…

He looks out the windshield and thinks: World . ..

In the trunk is a brand new semi-automatic anodized “Colt AR15A2”[28] with three forty-shot clips and several hundred Winchester 5.56mm rounds, an all-metal vest as ammunition, not to mention a high-quality Zeiss sight for night shooting.

Yes, the world is a toilet , he admits. – I’m going to start cleaning right now .

Then the green light turns on and the protagonist drives on. It won’t take long for him to find a nice, dark alley where he can get his weapons ready for battle…

translation: Gena Crocodiles

“Gatekeepers”

What… is this?

A figure in the dark?

Steps?

[- psychic entity -]

They are the main character’s worst fear, his phobia incarnate.

Gatekeepers.

His last fear is going to hell.

Sometimes he thinks he sees them. In fits and starts, a little. With hallucinogenic blinking and visual trembling. The pretty British girl in the Goth record store is momentarily monstrous. That was twenty-five years ago and there are no more record stores because there are no more records. But you’re pretty sure you just saw the same pretty British girl last week on a bus in Pinellas Park; she grinned at you with the fangs of a monster. A figure in the dark, unremarkable, but somehow unsettlingly familiar. Or he will look into a nearby car at a traffic light, and the passenger will point at him with a thick clawed hand.

Sometimes he sees them at night in his window…

* * *

You are most afraid of gatekeepers. Abstraction is, in fact, aesthetic.

You’re a horror writer, after all.

Gatekeepers are spirits, they are ghosts. At least in this world. For there is another world where they are flesh and bones, hot skin, teeth and ageless blood…

Gatekeepers – you think.

The limit of your susceptibility, but rooted, of course, in your true American faith and your distortion of it. You donate money to Jerry Lewis] and think it means you’re a good person. You go to a strip club in Washington DC with some friends, and sometimes you give a tramp ten or twenty cents.

You think that means you will go to heaven.

[- visions -]

He wanted to kill his father.

One morning he came home from work and struggled up the stairs. He looked into his parents’ bedroom and saw his father in the mirror straightening his tie.

“Hi, Lee,” the father said.

His father has been dead since 1986.

* * *

Do you remember going to the hospital every day watching your father’s muscles turn into pudding, his brain turning into puree. Every day you swear you’ll bring your .38 to the fucking hospital and shoot the flabby creature on the bed with the railing. Shoot him in the head quickly because you’d rather die yourself than let more witnesses see what nature is doing to him. Load the gun with an explosive bullet, put a pillow on his face – and fire! Try your luck in court. If a Maryland shitty judge sends you to jail, fine, then hang yourself. Really nothing special. Life is is not so beautiful , is it? Nightmare voice howls in distorted horror movie voice:

– Hey, look here! With this hand, yo, I will give you cunts, immediately, yo, after fucking in the ass. Today you are my bitch!

No, you won’t get well in such an environment.

Better to be dead than a cell block bitch. Fuck.

* * *

– That’s not my father! He wants to scream at the nurse. – This creature is not my father!

* * *

The night after his death – Christmas Eve – he saw his father standing in the living room, wrapped in white sheets like a Dickens character.

Pointing with a white bony finger.

[- crazy girl you picked up one night in a bar -]

– Once I had an out-of-body experience[30]. I came to this horrible black place and when I woke up I was covered in tiny tufts of wet hair. But the hair disappeared after a few minutes.

– Hmm. Pieces of hair. I think I’ve read about it.

– Do you believe in genetic memory?

– I… uh… well…

– I believe in a psychic trace. I believe in ghosts, I have seen them. Ghosts aren’t always the spirits of the dead, you know. Any kind of suffering, torture or torment can leave a mental stain.

– Mental. Hm.

– I mean that a person does not have to die. And why should they? The agony is enough to leave a ghost.

– Interesting, er… interesting point of view.

– Do you believe you lived before?

– Jesus! You know, I really don’t think…

– Do you believe that in this life you can be persecuted by the one you killed in of the past life?

[- night shift -]

The always respectful guard sleeps in the lodge. After getting high from 6 cans of Heineken and several videos – “ Bird with Crystal Plumage”[31] , “ Three on a meat hook”[32] , oh, and of course, “ Ass to the future”[33] – you fall asleep and dream.

The eye of your sleeping mind is like a movie camera. you are the eye wandering through the pristine forests of Maryland in the early 1700s of what is now Saint Mary and Kent Island County.

you are a killer. you are a destroyer.

you are the Sorcerer-Konoy[34]…

90,002 women and children are the first, they are much more interesting to rape and kill. the rumble of hooves is so dense that it reminds of the surf. you and your tribe unleash a massacre with impressive agility. huge waves of dust rise behind your hundred horses. there are screams, bright, beautiful screams, bright as sunlight. in a blissful pandemonium, you spread out around the crowd, surrounding them as they try to flee. like threshers and scythes, warhammers rise and fall serenely, slicing hands, splitting skulls. one man runs away with an ax in his head, pink brains glisten in the gap that has formed. another person runs in the opposite direction, waving whipping stumps.

now you’ve trapped them and cut them down like weeds. to and fro your squadrons, war-colored horsemen, gallop over the dying and the dead, trampling blood and filth into the ground. then the dust settles, being replaced by the smoke of fires. the heavy aroma intoxicates in the evening breeze, and you feed on the juicy and unusually tasty meat and fat around their liver, wombs, exploding juice (and sometimes unexpected nuggets), the liquid of their eyeballs …

a job well done, all in one day.

is a sacrifice, you know.

you sacrifice the pale-faced intruder to the sacred forest spirit Wendigo.

here is our victim!

hear our prayer, we pray to you!

90,002 of the few survivors are systematically decapitated and dismembered. you bend down to pick out beating hearts with your frail shoulder blades and squeeze the still-hot blood from the meat chambers to drink. penises and scrotums are cut from the groin. you use scrotums for tobacco pouches, and after each raid you add a penis to a battle necklace made of intestines around your neck. your necklace, in fact, contains more penises than any other member of the tribe. almost a hundred.

90,002 pregnant women are saved for last. you cut milk-swollen breasts from a screaming, pale creature whose belly is pulled tight by a child.

You sacrifice a shining child.

And you wake up.

To see two pale gray figures leaning over you. Faceless. Eyeless. One is high, the other is low.

Both of them point to you.

* * *

A former psychic girl who no longer loves him told him one night in bed that she dreamed of a strange man who was in the room leaning over her. The man showed her pictures of a dead person.

“But it wasn’t really a person,” she said oddly.

– What do you mean?

– This was half of people. Women, I think – everything from the waist up, as if it was cut in half.

– Hmm. Weird.

– She walked on her hands. She walked on her hands. .. through the jungle.

* * *

And there was always Aunt Annabelle. One night I woke up to a slow creak. Rocking chairs.

But there is no rocking chair in my room, and never has been. But still, there was Aunt Annabelle, swaying – creak-creak-creak – less than two days dead, and still glistening with undertaker’s make-up and formalin-based embalming fluid.

I could smell her.

– Aunt Annabelle? I asked, pushing myself up in bed.

“Yes, it’s me,” she said.

– But you…

– I know.

With eerie speed she stood up and, yes, pointed at me…

– Do you remember Brad? she asked and left.

[- brad -]

Dougie and Fat Man stomped home from Somerset Elementary School down Shetland Lane. The fat man was angry because that asshole Donnie somehow beat him the other day and he ran home in tears. Thank God he was alone then. Nobody saw him cry.

Far ahead, they noticed Brad’s peculiar, unsteady gait, with a gaudy bag of books in his hands. Dougie and Fatty were mad at Brad because he slapped Miss Wendell on them and she yelled at them for throwing paper planes. And that’s why Dougie and Fat got the notes to their parents. Not good.

“Let’s deal with Brad,” Dougie suggested enthusiastically.

Fat Man’s face burned with anger. Not so much because Brad got him into trouble, but because that asshole Donny what-is-him had brought him to tears yesterday.

“Come on,” Fat Man agreed.

Brad walked funny like a wooden puppet tied to the fingers of a drunken puppeteer.

Brad was crippled.

Dougie swooped in from behind like a Junkers Ju-87 and snatched Brad’s bag from his paralyzed hand. They were running in circles around Brad, right on the corner of Fat Man’s house. Brad howled, almost fell…

Dougie and Fat Man laughed as they tossed the bag over Brad’s head. Brad was breathing hard, barely holding back tears, trying to reach her with every throw.

– How do you like it, Brad? Dougie laughed. We won’t give her up. We’ll throw her in the stream!

– No! yelled Brad.

– Come on! – begged the fat man. – Let’s really do it! Let’s throw her in the stream! – he made a pause. Let’s make him cry!

Brad moved back and forth with the agility of a crab out of the water, and immediately began to cry. Dougie and Fatty loved it!

A car drove down the street and they threw the bag over Brad’s head and let it fall to the pavement. Brad, striding as if cinder blocks were tied to his feet, picked her up and hobbled home.

Crying.

– See you tomorrow little Brad! shouted Dagi.

– Yes! said the Fat Man cheerfully. – Crybaby !

* * *

“Yes, Aunt Annabelle,” I whispered into the empty room in tears. – I remember Brad.

[- haiku -][35]

You live alone.

You dial your number

by mistake

and hear the answer.

[- Sergeant Sand -]

– Tastes like pork when cooked properly. Grind it up and fry it, making sure to add some fat and finely chopped wild onion. Damn, when you’re in ambush and terribly hungry…

You will eat.

* * *

When I was in the army, our base was in Ansbach, West Germany. This was at a time when East and West still existed. I was a tank shooter. Man, I could knock down fucking cherries from 4,000 meters. BOOM! The Army did a great job of turning high school brats into deadly man-machines – dude, sometimes closing my eyes, I can still see crosshairs in a 105mm scope, imagining how I shoot with cumulative and sub-caliber shells on a T-72 tank.

“Aim for the turret pivot,” my platoon leader always said. “Then hit them with a HEP and blow those commie fuckers to pieces.

“HEP” stands for Explosive Plastic This projectile hits the surface of an enemy turret, covers it with plastic explosives with a delayed detonator, and then explodes inside. Breaks and shreds the crew at a speed of about 1200 feet per second. We called it pop caps, and they were big caps. Yes, I was such an asshole. I thought I wanted to kill all the Russians for my fucking country.

The truth is, they would have killed me first.

Anyway, there was a guy in my barracks named Sergeant Sand[36]. That’s right, sand, like that shit on the beach. He was in Vietnam. Tank 11-Echo. Hell on fucking wheels, man. You create them, we destroy them. We eat napalm for breakfast and urinate in transmission fluid. Grease our fucking ruts with your 16 year old girlfriends, man, and your moms too, and your dads. Hey, Ivan, where do you want to be buried after I fill your tank with enough heat guns to fill a fucking bath, huh? Fried toast, that’s what we’ll do. We rock your fucking communist world, man!

Anyway, I thought this guy Sand was cool. I idolized this guy. At 19, I thought that if I wanted to be like anyone in the world, it would be Sergeant Sand. A battalion of one desperate man. A walking, talking world of fucking pain.

He’s dead now, or at least that’s what I heard. He was sent back to Fort Knox to study the new M1A1 tanks produced in ’82, with a 1500 hp gas turbine engine, fully armed. They turned out to be a piece of crap until they were upgraded to A2. Anyway, I heard that Sand got into a bar fight one night in one of the “wet” counties of Kentucky and got shot in the stomach by some redneck who thought Sand was sticking his wife. Knowing Sand, this was probably true. Oh, and it was a black guy doing a job that was karmic because Sand was a hardcore racist. But that is beside the point.

Or maybe yes.

Anyway, this guy, Sand, put out his cigarettes with his tongue, then smiled, and then swallowed. Killed many Commie Charlie[38] , and had pictures to prove it. He said he would be nervous if a week went by and he didn’t kill anyone. In Vietnam, 11-Echoes were based on the M60 tank, and they rolled through the jungle with severed heads on stakes sticking out of the racks of the turret compartments. Said he threw moisture-activated hitting balls at Vietnamese kids because they’d put them in their mouths thinking the shit was candy.

Said he was a prison guard in Mannheim and killed a guy who bit him while being transported; he hit the guy on the head with a club so many times that his brains started to come out of his ears. Sand had a German girlfriend who said her father was a security guard at the Belsen.

– She can stand on her hands, bend over and lick her “pussy” in this position, – Sand boasted and it was true; I saw pictures. “I turned her on because I killed guys,” Sand said. “She used to be a whore in Nuremberg, having group sex with our soldiers for 40 marks,” Sand said, “she can swallow a thick twelve-inch cock whole.

I didn’t believe until he showed me the pictures.

Let’s get back to the story. This guy, Sand, I used to hang out with. We drank these big bottles of Hofbrau, at room temperature. For some reason in Germany beer is not supposed to be cold. And anyway, Sand had a chest under the bunk, and I asked him what was in it.

“You don’t want to know,” he said. – You have a small intestine.

“Come on, sergeant,” I begged in a drunken voice. – What do you have in your chest?

Then Sand stood up. He looked at me with a stone face. I pulled this chest out from under the bunk and opened it.

First of all, he showed me the bone. I don’t know, two feet long or so. I looked at him very intently, but I was drunk, you know? It took me a while to realize that it was a human femur. He said he went to a party in Saigon with the 176th Military Police Department, with the guys from the Navy and with the Australian special forces; so they rounded up a bunch of prostitutes and paid them to eat shit.

Didn’t believe him until he showed me the pictures.

He pulled out a jar from the chest, in it was the hand of a child.

Pulled out a leather pouch full of human teeth.

Pulled out a wrinkled wallet made from human skin.

Pulled out another bag full of scalps.

“Tell me about it, sergeant,” I asked.

– Me and this guy named Winslow, we were on the same team, he was the tactical commander, I was the gunner. In those days we didn’t have sabots, we carried a lot of HEAT and HE plastic rounds, and stacks of Hives ready for action, and we also had some incendiary rounds in case we had to bombard an enemy bunker. So, one day we were on the march, driving very close to the safe edge of Highway 13, and we had the engine immobilizer switch burn out, without which, as you know, the fucking targeting stabilization will not work. So we call the base and ask for help, hoping that these fools will send a technical assistance vehicle, as we hoped. Those morons will probably fix it quickly and we’ll get back on the firing line and kick those whores’ asses to the fullest. Anyway, the engineer battalion said they had an M88 repair vehicle on the way, but it won’t arrive until the morning, so we have a lot of free time, and we’re sitting right in the middle of some thorny bush. So tell me what we did baby

– Have you established a defensive perimeter?

– Correct. Draw a large-scale map, pick up landmarks, pull on a camouflage net – all this is bullshit. And we sit there all day with our M-3s[41] waiting to hit with some serious lead poisoning on any dink[42] who thinks they have big enough boobs to fuck with us, but nothing not happening. So it’s getting dark and we know we’ll be complete assholes if we don’t install hotline , so Winslow and I put Claymores around our position. You know how to install Claymores, don’t you?

– Of course, sergeant. Are you playing me? – WITH THE CONVUSING PART TO THE SIDE OF THE OPPONENT, – you think. – I can do it with my eyes closed.

– Anyway, we are laying hotline . Most guys, they wouldn’t worry, too many problems, you know, but these guys are morons who always fly to the mainland in body bags. So me and Winslow we sit in this thorn bush all night hoping someone steps on this shit and let me tell you when you do a tactical mission in the Vietnamese jungle for 20 days or so your uniform is going to rot right on the body, you pull out your dick to piss and it stinks worse than a couple of dead Charlie decomposing in the bush for several days. And beetles? Dude, they had bugs in there that could take your mom. Slugs with teeth and fucking fire ants the size of your thumb. Many of these Vietnamese Rangers[44] were double agents; they stole coordinates and telegraphed them to Viet Cong artillery brigades. So we tied these bastards naked to poles, doused them with sugar water, and, brother, these ants ate their skin in less time than it takes to wipe their asses. They spun like tops, told us everything we wanted to know, and then we left them there. And I swear they had spiders the size of fucking golf balls, and when those bastards bit you, you ended up in the infirmary for a week.

But I’ve heard all this bullshit before, from a lot of guys. I wanted to hear about the hotline .

– Come on, sergeant. Don’t pull my dick.

Sand smiled, he understood.

– Anyway, Winslow and I were on guard duty. There were two more guys in the tank, two Niger, Solka and the tank – and I was I swear , the guy called the tank! [45] But these two nigers sat in the gun tower.

“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently, “so you and Winslow are standing guard and waiting for this bullshit to start.”

– Tochnyak. And we’re sitting there with the M-3s cocked, Winslow on the roof in the back, I’m on the front slope dreaming of the future, of all these wide open pussies we’ll fuck and we’ll drink a fucking tank of beer and all of a sudden one the mine explodes, at about 11 o’clock, if you look at the scale map. Winslow and I nearly shit ourselves because you know what a mine explosion sounds like. And we go to check and see who snagged the wire, some enemy girl, probably 12 years old or so – I don’t know, maybe she was a sapper, or maybe just a child wandering around, and what the mine did with her (she stepped right on top of the mine) when she hooked that fucking fuse. Anyway, the mine cut this chubby chick exactly in half…

I felt disgust, but at the same time admiration. Imagery, dude. Images have always intrigued me. And it was a wonderful image.

The girl is cut in half.

“Those two fagots opened the hatch, scared to death,” Sand continued. “They thought that the whole North Vietnamese army led by Giap [46] jumped on their asses or something, or maybe the pilots loaded a fragmentation bomb by mistake, but we told them that it’s okay, just the boar tripped over the wire, so they go back to the tower and are locked up. And Winslow and I are standing there with the M-3, looking at this mess. When I say this chick was cut in half, I mean everything from the sternum up lay face down in a puddle, about ten yards away, with arms outstretched to the sides like a referee signaling a touchdown[47] , and everything from the sternum down – lay right at our feet.

Sergeant Sand paused, opened another bottle of Hofbrau and lit a cigarette. Was this the end of the story?

– Well… and? I asked, bewildered. – What happened then?

“We took turns fucking the lower half of the corpse,” Sand said and sipped his beer.

I stared at him in horror, frozen.

No, no, , I thought.

I didn’t believe him.

Until he showed me the pictures.

* * *

Yes. Back then I thought Sergeant Sand was a cool guy. I wanted to be Sergeant Sand.

May God forgive me.

[- gatekeepers -]

These terrible creatures, these crazy visions, these demonic ghosts are generated by the abyss of his own consciousness.

He often thinks he may be insane, or worse: premonition .

Sometimes a week goes by and he dreams about baseball results, and the next day they are always correct. Sometimes he dreams of a beautiful Asian woman whispering numbers in his ear. One day she whispers “five-three-three-four” and the next day he gets a check for $5,334. One day she whispers “one-five-one”, and later his agent calls to announce the sale of three books, and the time on the clock is 1:51, and one day she whispers “three-one-four”, and that same night at the time work, a suicide calls him from house number 314.

He is subject to absolutely ridiculous dreams, often involving cruise ships and meetings in absurd places, grocery stores full of sexual fantasies, and bakeries full of “French brushwood” and apple braids. He dreams of tidal waves, sinking ships and seafood markets, lost loves and loves that need no proof, all in the most inappropriate places. One day, he dreamed of an old woman who turned into a grilled chicken. Fuck your mother.

At the end of November, he fell asleep on a route 6 bus returning from Chinatown – another bus crashed on the same route at the same time, killing several passengers – he dreamed of a girl he really liked very much, but he never had the courage tell her about it. Then, in a dream, the face of an Asian woman appeared and whispered:

– She will hate you on Monday, she will hate you on Monday…

A week later – on Monday – the girl he liked hated him.

Sometimes he knows when his friends will sell a story or a book.

Sometimes he sees auras.

* * *

That crazy girl he picked up at the bar that night. She said something else, didn’t she?

– If you create something in your mind, and if you think about it hard enough, you can make it real.

Now he thinks of golems made from clay with his own hands. The creator destroys what he creates.

* * *

He inserts scenes with them in all his books. Gatekeepers.

This seems appropriate. After all, he’s a horror writer.

Pug faces on thick, twisted necks. The flesh, both to the touch and in color, is clay from the riverbed, pits-nostrils and slits for the eyes. In a sense, they look like bulldogs – limbs with swollen knots of muscles, small and thick hands and thick, like sausages, fingers with claws at the ends.

These are villains, helpers, minions.

A black moon in a red sky, a veil, terrible and huge, sparkling with a luminous mist, and a lake of smoking excrement. From the crevices in the black rock, a pitiful naked horde is driven out. A huge black grackle[48] flies overhead, its black marble eyes looking down in awe. The Horde is a mass of screaming bodies, embodied horror, living chaos.

And out of the smoking lake rise the gatekeepers, squeezing into the horde, laughing softly, their thick arms immediately quickly twisting their arms and legs from their joints, tearing their heads from their tense necks, pulling out entire vertebral columns from their stretched open mouths. Fire rages in the distance, greasy black smoke pouring from cracks and crevices in the stone surface of the valley. The smell in the air is so sweet: boiling excrement, human fat roasting in a crackling fire. The gatekeepers work hard, complacent in their servitude – honored by the call of duty. Thick, hard little fingers calmly press the eyeballs on howling faces. The skin is peeled from bare backs as easily as paper from the walls, ears, noses, lips and fingers are bitten off and gnawed like tidbits. Claws strike hard to rip open bellies, ugly fists plunge into the rectum, through which the insides are extracted like tissue paper from a gift box. The gatekeepers grunt and giggle, plod on, sticking out their heads and semen with ugly legs, breathing blood with unwavering faces, to drown in the pool of bubbling shit they came from.

Yes, it is a great day in hell. Eternal day.

Monstrous penises rise in heady arousal, any available hole is forcibly appropriated for carnal pleasure. Their demonic semen spurts out, an endless globular stream – thick as jam – the vesicles are drained only to be immediately refilled for even greater enjoyment. No one in this horde of the damned can be left behind, and there is no discrimination based on gender. The rectums are torn squeamishly, the vaginas are driven to prolapse, the mouths are clogged with sinewy limbs, long and hard as rolling pins, and the wombs are laid on hot stones to cook. Delicate pink brains are swallowed whole. Raw testicles are eaten like large “jelly beans”[49].

And when it’s over, the gatekeepers will be proud of the glorious slaughter. Smiling slightly. Their bellies are full. Sexual desire is satisfied.

Yes, then everything will end, only to start again, and again, and again forever and ever, retribution in eternity , retribution without end.

As they say: retribution is such a bitch . Yes sir, it is.

And one of the gatekeepers comes forward through the hot smoke of the festivities, his black slit eyes are sincere, his forked tongue licks the feces from his lips.

His inhuman hand slowly rises and his finger points…

[- talk show -]

An elderly woman with clown orange hair claims to be clairvoyant. She predicts that Ross Perot will run for president and get 20% of the vote. She then predicts that in 1993 a wave of genocide will break out in Eastern Europe, that death camps and rape camps will re-emerge. Some of the viewers laugh at the absurdity of the claims.

She talks about “crystals”[50], Kirlian imaging[51] and remote viewing, as well as OBE[52] and receiving messages during trance.

And o ghosts.

– Our sins are also ghosts. They always come back, and if you look closely, you can see them…

[- ghost part I -]

That day. Around 3 p.m.

The writer was returning home from Treasure Island; he had just been to Ricky T’s[53] to take notes on a restaurant review assignment. Neat place, comfortable outside bar; cool, dark inside. They served fried pickles. The owner, whose real name was Ricky T, would die in a few years. He will have a heart attack while eating at a competitor’s restaurant, God rest his soul. Perhaps on a Sunday when the Writer – notes collected and completed – was walking home under the blaze of the glorious Florida sun. In the year from the Nativity of Christ, 2002.

He just missed the bus, but walking was fine. M.R. James[54] and also Lovecraft were outstanding walkers, walking many miles a day, so if that was good enough for them, it was good enough for the Writer. Perhaps some of their greatness will seep into his mediocrity. Or maybe not.

Daydreaming, he strode across Kokina Way, past an endless row of stucco houses covered with curved tiles. A woman’s voice came from somewhere:

– Hello Li…

He turned around, unable to identify the source of the voice.

– Yes. It’s me.

Who is this? – he thought.

The source is still not visible. Some houses were put up for sale and were empty; The writer squinted at the dead windows, looking for some sign. His heart trembled: could it be that a pale shape, perhaps like a head, was moving in one of the windows?

No, no. It’s just curtain …

Then the voice sounded again, and he would never know exactly what he – or she – said, but it could have been “tonight. ”

And again something flashed before my eyes: a pale outline, alarmingly similar to a woman’s head. She seemed to have blond hair.

A moment – and his inexplicable light stupor passed, leaving the Writer standing for another full minute in the middle of the street. Squinting.

* * *

That night. Around 4 o’clock in the morning.

He drank a lot in those days, at the bar, almost every evening. But on the night in question, he hadn’t had a drink in a week or so… or maybe less. Be that as it may, he often weighed this fact against other, darker possibilities, and came to the conclusion that alcohol hallucinations had a low probability.

He woke up – such a wonderful cliché! – in grainy darkness, slightly ringing in the moonlight. Whether it was the echo of a dream, or his deeply crippled imagination, he felt a soundless movement at the foot of the bed as some impulse opened his eyes. The movement had a figure that could only belong to a person. A short, thin man, and a patch of light where the hair should be: blond hair.

His heart sank as his eyes began to see more clearly. The thin figure moved quickly, but still uncertainly, head down, arms along the torso. But even in the shifting darkness, he was sure that he could make out the outline of a modest chest and an inexpressible but undeniable female form.

The figure crossed the rest of the room and quickly turned into the bathroom, where it then plunged into complete darkness.

Your mother – thought the Writer. Fear stuck in my throat like too much peanut butter. Some woman is in my fucking apartment and she must have broken in because I KNOW I locked the front door …

He seemed to get out of bed in slow motion – yes, too scared to go to the bathroom – and slipped out into the living room and kitchen. He turned on the kitchen light because it was the nearest switch. The room bloomed with sudden light, then plunged into darkness again.

Bulb burnt out! And it was one of those spirals that was supposed to last five years!

He patted the wall as he stepped back to the right, then turned on the light in the living room, although calling this tiny closet “living room” was ridiculous. Nevertheless, the light went on and remained on, confirming his belief that the front door was locked from the inside. All windows were locked and not broken.

Some chick is in my bathroom and I want to know how she got there he thought in a fit of rage.

But is it really so? He is really wants to know?

For the next ten grim minutes, he just stood there, mustering up the courage to boldly enter the bathroom and see who was there. But, of course, it was fear that kept his feet glued to the twenty-year-old fucking carpet. You see, there was no light in the bathroom; the lamp was broken, and he never bothered to inform the owner of the house about it. And he didn’t have a flashlight. Plus, the light in the bedroom—one of the Walmart pieces—was in the far corner of the bedroom, and he didn’t want to think about reaching out and grabbing it when he ducked into the darkness for the light switch.

Another miserable few minutes passed, and then, apparently without the intervention of his own will, he crossed the dark bedroom, turned to the right, entered the bathroom, which was lit only by a thin trickle of moonlight, froze in place, staring at her with eyes, who might as well have been deprived of eyelids, and saw a ghost.

[- my neighbor’s dream -]

The curse of any writer is when non-writers ask the devil’s question:

– Hey, how’s the writing coming along?

Shit.

I was raking leaves in my front yard last fall – a real pain in the ass. I had three deadlines for finishing the book, but had to put my writing on hold to rake and pack all those ridiculous leaves. Anyway, the guy across the street had nothing to do but sip, so he came over with a beer and I had time to roll my eyes before he said

– Hey, how’s the writing coming along?

– Uh, good, I guess.

– Oh, man, you’ll love this, – he said then, – because you write all these horrors. I had a dream last night that would make your hair stand on end. Fucking bullshit.

– Really? I asked, not having much choice.

– Yeah dude. I dreamed that I woke up in my bed and I heard footsteps outside. So I get up very quietly because I don’t want to wake my wife. And anyway, I look out my bedroom window to the front yard and I see a soldier down on one knee, dressed for battle. He’s got facial paint and branches sticking out of his helmet like he’s in Vietnam or something, and he’s holding a rifle. And imagine the guy’s guts half sticking out because someone shot him in the stomach.

I sort of raised an eyebrow.

– Is that all? Is this your dream?

– Oh, no, dude, – my chatty neighbor laughed. – Not at all. This soldier looks around like he’s scared, like he hears something. And then… I also hear something.

I wanted to groan.

– And what did you hear?

– Well, steps again. Just not as loud as his. Then all of a sudden he raises his rifle and starts shooting at someone coming around the corner of my house, but… You know what dreams look like…

Dreams , I think.

…sometimes some things don’t make sense, I’m sure of it, because his rifle didn’t make any noise when he fired. I saw a flash, but…

“Didn’t hear a sound,” I said.

– Exactly. And then this soldier, with a stomach full of bullets, throws his rifle on the lawn and runs down the street, screaming piercingly.

– Screaming? I asked. But I thought you didn’t hear anything.

– No, no, I meant I didn’t hear the shot, but I heard everything else, and this guy was screaming bloody murder.

I nodded.

– Hmm. Pretty strange dream.

– Oh, but that’s not all. After this soldier ran away…

– He ran away screaming, with a belly full of bullets – I reminded him.

– Exactly. After he ran away screaming, with a belly full of bullets, I finally saw who he was shooting at.

– Those steps that you heard.

– Exactly, footsteps coming from around the corner of my house.

Here, probably to heighten the effect, my chatterbox neighbor interrupted his story for a moment, looking at me with a wise grin.

I tied up the last bag of leaves – a pain in the ass – and decided to play along with him.

– Okay, who was that?

– It was legs, man.

– Legs ? I asked.

– Quite right. Legs. They looked like a girl’s legs, thin and pretty. But, anyway, this is what I saw in a dream. Two legs go through my yard. And you know what they did next, those legs?

By that time I was not feeling well.

– Feet followed the soldier, right?

– But no. This is what you think they should have done. I mean, that would make sense, but. .. You know what dreams are.

– Of course. I looked at him, and a light sweat broke out on my forehead. – So what did they do, those legs?

– Here’s the part of that you’ll love! My neighbor laughed rudely. They didn’t follow the soldier. Instead, the feet began to walk across the street, by to your house! The neighbor patted me on the back. Pretty strange dream, huh?

“Yes, old man,” I agreed. – Pretty strange dream…

[- number nine-one-four -]

Now time means nothing… There’s only one thing left to do when the only person I care about in this whole fucking world is you. My blood is sifted through the ashes; all my muses are dead and your smile puts a Glock 17 to my head. Little angel eyes and a doomsday kiss. I’m the pale Roquentin of the “Nausea”[55] I am Nelson Algren’s crippled bliss[56]. Solipsistic love, but no more soul to sell. I think I’m destined to stay here and smolder in this noon, blue, jubilant hell. Soothsayers all lie; the wasteland just gets bigger. I’ll go ahead and put the gun in my mouth, but could you please pull the trigger?

[- butcher -]

Congressman rushes to get ready; he has a discussion in forty-five minutes, and he wants to have a beer with Dallas first, at the hotel bar. Well, maybe a couple of beers – discussions make him a little nervous. He gets out of the shower, towels himself off, hurries to his bedroom in the muted silence of the hotel.

A pregnant woman lies on a clean Scottish carpet. Her clothes were torn to shreds, what looked like a dirty white casual dress that women wore hundreds of years ago, only now it was stained with bright red blood, and she was mercilessly killed right here on the floor with a completely insane method. too diabolical to describe.

The congressman stands with his jaw dropped. The image is rich in detail, frozen , clear and sharp, like a facet of a gem in its transparency. The congressman then blinks, and sure enough, the image disappears.

But he remembers the last thing he saw:

The woman’s face was split open by Konoy’s war hammer.

[- return home -]

Ocean City, Maryland, 1991. Yes, that’s where you and your buddies went for a week at the end of July. You drank a bottle of Sapporo while driving your brand new car over a tunnel bridge across the Chesapeake Bay (or possibly more than one bottle). Straight down highway 50 and there you are.

Fun party man! Party on the beach! Bikini City every day is enough to drive you crazy! And drinking at the Green Turtle every night – what a commendable way of life!

You are staying in a high-rise building called Atlantis. It looked like something out of a Fritz Leiber story: tall and thin, with slit windows, a spire of gray-beige cement. One day, you’re sitting in a latrine – what a worthy place for creative enlightenment – and you have an idea for a novel that you’re sure will make you a millionaire. You had no idea then that this book would never be sold.

On a Thursday night you wake up at exactly 3:15 am (Isn’t that the “mysterious” time of Amityville Horror ? More than ten years later, you will hear that the whole book and movie is bullshit). Either way, you can’t sleep. You have a funny feeling that you are being watched – it’s so corny, but so true. You go out to the balcony in your underwear, sit down and light a cigarette. Forty-four floors up and you’re sitting there all alone. The sky is gray, the colors of sadness. A storm is coming. At times, you can swear that you can feel the building actually move, and from somewhere you hear a colorless voice screaming:

– Hey!

The waves are breaking to your left, but you can barely hear them because it’s very windy. And to your right…

Another skyscraper. Dark. None of the hundreds of windows are lit. But your eyes have become accustomed to the darkness. You are staring at another building. ..

And you see someone.

Tiny figurine. It seems to be standing on the opposite balcony. Just… standing there.

This is so strange. You get up, grab the binoculars someone brought you to look at girls in bikinis on the beach, with sweat-covered cleavage between their breasts and puffy pasties showing through tight-fitting panties. You lean over the steel railing, focusing on the figure.

This is a boy of seven or eight years old. But not in beachwear. He is wearing long trousers, a long-sleeved shirt buttoned up with all the buttons, big clumsy boots.

He is holding a school bag full of books, looking straight at you with his eyesless face…

Then he hobbles away and disappears.

[- railroad tracks at st Merton and Lakeview, 10-31-2011 -]

You will learn the history of railway tracks much later, almost seven months later. It’s just that you took out the garbage in the waste bin at the bus stop, because. .. who wants to pay garbage collectors? On this Halloween night, twilight was just beginning to bleed on the horizon. You couldn’t wait until it was completely dark and walked around looking at the decorations. On any other Halloween, you’d be sitting at a bar drinking beer, but you almost quit drinking a year ago on Labor Day. The beer suddenly tasted like shit! (Well, except for “Sapporo”. And, a few years later, your usual beer will be “Tsing Tao”, which is actually still brewed in China, while “Sapporo” is brewed in Canada under a Japanese “license” – oh , well, why am I burdening you with these useless and unusable parts!) Anyway, when you made your usual trip to the trash can at bus stop number 59- crossing the railroad tracks – you looked to the right, at the perimeter, about two hundred yards away, where you buried your ex-girlfriend’s rabbit. It was a bunny with a big ass, and Cathy put the poor guy’s corpse in the freezer so it wouldn’t rot before you could get to St. Pete’s to pick it up. Do you remember riding the bus back – number 4 – and choking on laughter in front of everyone, because in your bag there were two orders of fried clams from the 4th Street Shrimp Shop and big ass frozen bunny. You wondered if there was anyone, anyone in the entire history of mankind who had ever traveled like this, with such things in a bag. Anyway, you buried the rabbit two hundred yards from Ulmerton, on the railroad tracks. And as you walked back, you could have sworn that you heard footsteps in the thickets and even saw shapes that could be faces grimacing from the leaves. At some point you thought you even heard footsteps running behind you as you approached the road.

But, of course, none of that happened. That’s all you read in M. R. James!

One way or another. Let’s get back to the railroad tracks. Halloween night. You stuff the trash in the trash can and go back home. All Saints Day is approaching. You see fires in the woods along the paths – you know they are homeless people, drug addicts, drunkards (oh, compassion!) – but you see witch fires in them, the way Lucifer’s servants enjoy the preparations for witches’ sabbaths. Just as your Walmart sneakers are crossing the paths, a voice is heard, distant yet emphatically clear:

– Hey there! And who are you?

It seemed like the strangest thing for someone to call out to a stranger. Or maybe wasn’t a stranger, because the strangest thing about it all is that those words were spoken in your voice.

* * *

What… is ?

A figure in the dark?

Steps?

Is it really me?

Or is it getting hot in here?

* * *

The writer turned off the computer. He recently bought it and he hates it. He hates having his own because writing on a manual typewriter seemed so much more real. There is something obscene about all this technology that exists between his brain and paper. In any case, now is a look into the past: the beginning of the 90s.

Progress.

He lit a cigarette, finished off the Heineken and looked out the window.

It was a beautiful night.

He was getting ready to listen to “This Mortal Coin”[58] and “The Tear Garden”[59], put on taupe trousers, a Lord&Taylor shirt, decent boots, and then he left. He walked down deserted M Street with his pals, heading for the snobbish beer bars and strip clubs of Washington.

– Hey man? came the voice of the beggar. – Could you give me some change?

There stood a tramp, covered with a hood, in a coat of rotten rags.

– Just a little change to help me?

– Of course, – said the Writer. – Why not?

By that time, he had already sold thirteen novels, a bunch of short stories, comics, and even the film rights to two books! Yes, why not? – The Writer decides, and then, always a generous Christian, he digs in his pocket to help this poor tramp get a bottle of moonshine. He took out a ten dollar bill.

– Thanks man. God bless you.

The Tramp held out his hand. But he did not open it to take the money.

Instead, he pointed with his finger.

A thick clawed finger pointed directly at the face of the Writer, and under the hood the gatekeeper smiled, and in a voice like a crumbling rock, said:

– Your ass belongs to us…

translation: Gena Crocodiles

“Something from the sea slops”

It’s getting harder, – June thought, grimacing – it’s become quite difficult to steal sausage from the mini-market counter . Indeed, it had been a hectic day at the store, taking orders, running for the slicer, calibrating the scales, and so on, and never—not even during peak hours—Zefowitz, her boss, felt the need to help her. I can’t do everything by myself, – June often complained. – Nobody works in this fucking hole, in this toilet called “mini-market”, but me! – and it was true. But even the worst job in the world is better than none.

When the line at the mini market finally ended, June put up the “I’LL BE IN 10 MINUTES” sign, hid the aforementioned sausage under her apron, and hurried to the toilet. Damn, I’m on fire, damn it! In a moment, the cubicle door was locked, her pants and panties down, and a foot-long sausage[60] slid quite vigorously into her already soaked cunt. Now more and more often she was in this frame of mind, reaching 40 years of age and hormonal changes (she read about it in ”Cosmo” ). She is now at her peak sex drive, and working in a convenience store 12 hours a day (and no overtime pay as she was on a “job”) has left her with little time or energy to engage in sex of the more normal variety. than sticking a sausage in her, and even if she had the time and energy, there was not a single man in this provincial town that June could let closer than three meters. Ex-cons, drunkards, dope addicts, guys with a dozen kids from a dozen different village prostitutes, guys who haven’t had a job for most of their adult lives, and guys with cars but had their drunk driving licenses revoked. No thanks! – decided June. – I’d rather stick sausage!

She previously fantasized about being fucked rough and hard by some faceless man with a football player figure: 6ft 8in[61], weight 350lb[62], solid muscle, just hot and heavy, right there , on the floor of the mini market. His throbbing body would have flattened her mercilessly against the tiles of the floor, and his hips would have pounded against her loins with the endurance of a gas-powered lawnmower. June, close to choking, fluttered from one explosive orgasm after another, while the faceless muscle mass rammed her greedily until finally the reward for his lust came. Considering that this phantom lover was much larger than the average man, his penis was also much larger than average – 10 inches[63], 12[64] or so; in girth, like the wrist of a muscular man; and the volume and number of bursts of his ejaculation exceeded this “much-more-than-average” level. In short, June’s vagina filled with one stream of cum after another, or in more detail: a massive ghost cock and balls filled her writhing pussy with more cum that could only be pumped into her with a fire hose.

That’s why June now brought to mind this particular fantasy: she was standing, legs wide apart, in the toilet stall of the grocery store, pants and panties at her ankles, apron pulled up, and furiously pecking herself with sausage. The sausage was still wrapped in plastic, and for those wondering, it was a Dietz & Watson Chorizo [65] sausage, 12 inches long. It is appropriate to mention that June, at 5’1″[66] and weighing 95 pounds[67], could be described as “petite”, but the depth of her vagina did not match this concept. She knew she could fit more than 12 inches, but she had never met a man that size. She once used a 14-inch[68] squash, but even that didn’t reach the bottom. As for the width, 2 inches[69] barely parted her vagina, but as a last resort approached; 2.5 inches (girth of the beer bottle) – were much better. She once tried 3 inches[70] (“Boar’s Head Genoa Salami”)[71], but it was too much. But this Dietz & Watson? Exactly two and five eighths[72], she seemed to be created for her. Now I know the PERFECT diameter for my pussy, – June was happy.

And she was so turned on at that moment, and her head was so filled with the fantasy of being used as a fucking dummy by a faceless giant, that on the tenth penetration of “Chorizo”, she came so hard that she almost fell in the booth and almost screamed.

Holy fucking SHIT! , she thought, panting, and then hissed through her teeth, standing on her tiptoes, from the delicious post-orgasmic feeling, slowly taking out that big stick of sausage.

It was just what she needed to take the pressure off a thankless and very tiring day. Much better now! She quickly pulled herself together, put her ear to the door as she washed the sausage, then tucked it under her apron and hurried back to the convenience store, where, fortunately, there were no customers. She just had time to put “Dietz & Watson” back in the window, turned around …

…and froze.

Mr. Zefowitz stood behind her with his arms crossed over his bulging belly, his white shirt stretched across his belly so that the buttons almost burst.

“Uh… Hi, Mr. Zethowitz,” June said.

– You’re fired, Mr. Zefowitz said.

June did not give up:

– You can’t fire me! Everyone else here is too STUPID to run a convenience store!

– It’s true, but I can fire you, and I’ll just do it.

– For what?! June growled.

– For masturbating with store inventory, – then he went to the window, pulled out the guilty sausage and patted one end on his open palm. He smiled.

June blushed like a beetroot in embarrassment, but it only took a moment for her embarrassment to turn to rage.

– You fat fucking pervert! You have a camera in the ladies’ room!

– Not camera but a few , her boss remarked. – Surveillance cameras for your own safety. Any old psycho can walk in here from the street and rape somebody. Then we’ll be sued, and we can’t let that happen, can we?

– Well, now they will definitely sue you! I’ll take this shit to Channel 9!

He put the sausage back (why not? it was wrapped in plastic) and beckoned her with his index finger into the back room.

– Come here and see why this will never happen.

The veins on June’s temples bulged. She was gnashing her teeth, she was so angry. She followed him into the back room, then he closed the door and turned around…

…his penis stuck out of his pants.

– Why is your cock sticking out of your pants? she asked, seething with anger.

– Well, it should be for you to suck it, – he said, pulled on his cock and took out the balls. – You will suck it, and swallow all , what will come out of it, otherwise the recording from the surveillance camera will be on the Internet in five minutes.

Jun stared at him. She was shaking all over. Then…

Then…

She sighed dejectedly, knelt down and began to suck.

* * *

Your mother! Shit! Shit! Such was the nature of June’s thoughts when she calmed down. No fucking work! How am I going to pay the rent! Her useless, lethargic, boobs-for-balls, ex-husband will bring the kids back from summer camp in a week, and with the measly alimony he paid, she couldn’t even buy the required amount of groceries.

She flopped into the ancient chair and would have burst into tears if she hadn’t been so angry. Perhaps the TV will distract her from bad thoughts.

But no.

The TV was broken.

I killed myself, and all because I just WANTED to put this sausage in my pussy…

At least the orgasm was good.

The taste of Mr. Zefowitz’s cum was still in her mouth. It’s funny how cum tastes worse when it comes out of someone you hate. Eh! She had to bite into it, although there was nothing special to bite there. Everything went wrong for June. For once, – she thought, – FOR ONE TIME, why can’t anything work out?

Her mobile rang and before answering she saw a message that the service package was expiring in a day. No job, no money to top up my mobile. Another punch in the gut.

Then she answered the phone, expecting to hear from a debt collection agent.

– Hello?

– Hey honey! replied a sly male voice. It was Rybka, probably her only friend in town. How is the love of my life today?

– I don’t know, Rybka.

What is his name?

Rybka’s barking laughter. Everyone called him Rybka because he worked on the docks and smelled like fish.

– This is my girl! It’s always good to laugh. Tell me, are you ready for good news?

– Yes, fuck, I’m ready for good news, – she said like a true lady. – I only had 9 all day0415 bad news .

Rybka chuckled.

– Yes, I heard. You got kicked out of the convenience store because Zefowitz caught you putting a leg of lamb in your “patty”.

Steam could well escape from June’s ears.

– It was chorizo sausage, not a fucking leg of lamb! And… and that’s not true! And where did you hear it?

– Oh, hell, here and there. The whole city is talking about it.

Fuck! Fuck it! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!! – June thought.

– Don’t worry about it, Juni, – Rybka consoled her. “I bet every damn girl in this town has stuck different things in herself.”

Now she really was ready to cry. What could be worse than this? She will have to move. Everyone will call her – “Sausage Girl”.

– Come on, Rybka. I thought you had good news.

– Oh, yes, that’s right. You know old Captain Cupjack, don’t you?

Jun winced.

– Yes. This depraved old drunk tried to get into my underpants when I was ten years old. I’m serious. Ten .

Rybka chuckled.

– Yes, he’s a scoundrel, that’s for sure. Anyway, he had just entered the dock in his 42-footer.

“Damn,” June muttered. “I was hoping you’d tell me that his boat went down with him, that fucking old psycho diaper hunter.

– You are something, Juni, really. Anyway, like I said, he’s just arrived, been gone for two weeks. Devil’s Reef, I heard, and he must have a hell of a catch because he was spending money at the bar like water. He fed everyone.

– This miser has never bought anyone anything. Never, June said.

– Well, he certainly did today, and he still buys everyone drinks. Oh, and he bought himself a brand new Cadillac.

There’s something wrong.

– Unless he brought back 9 tons of sea bass, he couldn’t make enough profit to pay off his crew and then buy the Caddy. And now is not the season for catching sea bass.

– Well, it’s funny that you mentioned it, about his team, I mean. When he left for the flight, there were four guys with him, but when he returned today, no one was with him. Said he dropped his team off at Kent Island before he called. As far as I know, no one works for him from Kent Island.

June’s shoulders drooped. It sounded like fables.

– Rybka, I don’t care about Capjack, his team, Kent Island and in general for all . All I care about is good news, and if you don’t have it, I should wrap it up.

– Wait, girl! Don’t let your boobs get tied in a knot, – said Rybka. – Let me get to the fun part. So, while I was sitting at the bar drinking at Capjack’s expense, he poured himself a tenth of Wild Turkey, came up to me and said, “I need to paint the boat inside and out, and not a single painter here is even worth pinches of dog shit, except for Jun.

– Nonsense, – said June. – The last time I saw that stewed old pervert, he pinched my ass, so I told him that if he was the last man on earth, and I was more lustful than a female jackal in heat, anyway, I would rather hang myself than I will fuck him, and if he ever touches me again, I will cut off his cock and use it as fish bait.

– Wow, – Rybka laughed. – Wow! But, I’m serious. He knows that we are friends, so he asked me to tell you that he wants to hire you to paint his boat, and if you agree, I will receive $ 100 as an intermediary.

Jun winced.

– Are you kidding me?

– Nothing but the truth, honey, and I could use this cell.

– Okay. You can forget about it. I wouldn’t work for that cheap-idiot-sniffing-bike-seats-little-girls for any money.” She took a sip of the two-day-old iced coffee next to her: the last coffee in the house.

– It’s a two month job, Juni, and he’ll be paid fifty bucks an hour, in cash, daily.

June spat fetid coffee across the room, and a dotted trail appeared on Elvis’ velvet portrait.

– Tell him I’m taking this job! she choked.

Drunk fat old pervert or not, with this money, June will have no problems for the whole next year!

– It would be madness to refuse, – said Rybka. – Tomorrow morning you meet Captain Capjack at the shipyard.

– You can be sure, Rybka! Thank you!

She hung up the phone and squealed with joy. Fifty bucks an hour! Finally something GOOD happened to me!

Really good. And maybe too good to be true…

* * *

The next morning, June walked briskly through the shipyard, for some reason whistling the theme of “SpongeBob”[75]. She painted boats for several years, but then she quit when someone slipped a depressant into her iced tea. She didn’t know what happened to her in the four hours she was unconscious, but her anus hurt for days. Probably Capjack, the dirty bastard, she thought. Even so, for fifty an hour? She’ll just have to keep a close eye on everything she drinks. Wow, – the next thought came. She was approaching Capjack’s dock when she spotted a brand new gold Cadillac Seville. The gold paint looked tasteless, but still, it’s probably sixty pieces of ! Cupjack must have rented him, wants people to think he’s a moneybag.

– And here she is! came a hoarse voice.

June could smell the whiskey even at this distance. A disheveled, pear-shaped man leaned on the railing of his ancient piece of shit, a dock turned office. Capjack was as dilapidated as a barn, and just as old. His bloated liver made his belly protrude like that of a woman nine months pregnant, and a large, bushy Taliban beard covered a huge pink face, matched by a crooked nose that looked like a rotten strawberry. And finally, and the funniest thing, he was wearing a crooked white captain’s cap with a life buoy.

Then he rubbed his crotch through his canvas jumpsuit.

Great, , June thought.

– Rybka said that you have a job for me.

– Yeah, – the old man crackled. “Just got back from Dunedin Reef with a hold full of Toothy Eel and sold it to the Japanese for a tidy sum.

– I heard it’s Devil’s Reef . And the toothy eel? Isn’t it freshwater ?

Cupjack stuttered, his man boobs shaking.

– Well, no, we passed Devil’s Reef, and you’re right, it was a Mixin Eel. I always confuse them, you know? Ugly queers look the same… I mean eels, not Japs. I then dropped my team off at St. Mary’s Island where I met with a Japanese fish broker.

“I heard you landed your team on Kent Island,” June said.

This second remark provoked a fit of irritation in the fat drunkard.

– Well, you misheard, little lady, and it doesn’t matter, and yes, I have a job for you. I need to paint the boat inside and out, every square inch. Fifty bucks an hour and it’ll probably last all summer.

June could not resist and asked:

– What’s the trick?

– A trick?

– Come on, captain. You’ve been trying to get into my panties for as long as I can remember, and nobody pays fifty dollars an hour to paint a boat. If this fee comes with having sex with me, then forget it.

Cupjack threw back his old bearded fat face and giggled like a witch.

– Oh girl, you’re just a rebel! It’s true, I was horny in my day and girls followed my dick down the street like a fucking Pied Piper and not without reason . But those days are gone. I’m as old as Moses and fat as a Buddha, and I’m so full of liquor that I won’t even need to be embalmed when I die. Shit-oh, if you want to know the truth, I can stroke my dick like a teenage red-haired stepson, and still I can’t make him “stand up”, let alone come.

Jun sighed.

– Actually, captain, I didn’t need to know the truth with so many details.

– Believe me, more than anything in the world I would like to stick my hard club under the tail of a girl and fuck her until she cums so hard that her eyes pop out of their sockets, but no, I’m afraid that it will be easier for me to play billiards with a piece of overcooked spaghetti. And diabetes only makes matters worse – the old, salty dog lifted one leg, pulled up the lapel of his trousers and showed a discolored ankle about 6 inches thick[77]. – Damn stuff makes my ankles swell like Russard liverwurst and it keeps my cock from getting up. Speaking of liverwurst, is that true what I heard? That you got fired from the convenience store for pounding liverwurst on your pleasure trail?

– No! June exploded. – It is not true!

Capjack shrugged languidly.

– You have nothing to be ashamed of, dear. A woman has every right to stick whatever she wants into her box of gravy, be it liverwurst, French baguette, bowling pins, big roll of cookie dough, roast pork on a spit. ..

– I understood everything! June yelled, her face getting even rosier.

– Anyway, honey, the paint on the deck of the boat is not locked, start right now if you want. If you need anything,” he jerked his thumb back, “I’ll be at the bar.

Is that all? Just like that, I have a fifty bucks an hour job?

So it seemed.

– Uh, thanks, Captain.

“I’ll go ashore, honey,” he said, limping down the gangplank. – Oh, I forgot. Go down to the lower deck first, because I haven’t picked up the exterior paint yet, plus I need to fix the elevator,” and he hobbled over to the bar.

June went down to the pier where the 42ft Gwendylin Rose was moored , an old rattletrap, but still puffing after decades of labor. A pyramid of 4.5 liter cans of paint was piled up in front of the gangway. All the supplies she needed were right here in the stationary storage. There was no time to think, so she removed the lid from the jar, squatted down and began to stir. Her first coherent thought was familiar: Damn, I’m horny as a bitch! Unexpected luck put June in a great mood, and when she was in a great mood… juices flowed like a river. I must be a sex maniac, – she concluded, – my slit is already wet, although I never have sex with anything but vibrators, sausages and vegetables. The epoxy paint was difficult to mix, but she didn’t realize it. I’m probably obsessed with orgasm, but there are worse things. In this position (squatting) her crotch pressed against her already throbbing pubis. What I wouldn’t give for a man right now, a big fucking BUCK with a cock the size of a baby’s foot and balls the size of ducks. Yeah, something like that, sliding in her and hitting like a bilge pump piston, would be exactly what the doctor ordered. This desire was so strong that she felt a strong temptation to take a break, go down into the hold and let the “honey pot” work. She could shove her fist in there with no problem, and only a few turns should have produced an explosive orgasm. But no, with my luck someone will see… And it will be even worse than her previous humiliation at the convenience store.

She went back to mixing, and…

Oh shit. Just not this.

That article in “Cosmo” was not joking about women in their forties. She must have had an excess of hormones, because her squats and the continued pressure of her shorts on her crotch, squeezing her “secret garden” continued to pleasantly arouse her. She thought again of her phantom suitor, the featureless armature of overly muscular flesh, legs as wide and hard as railroad ties, and hands the size of dinner plates manipulating her like a sack of peanuts, ripping off her top, pulling off her shorts and laying her on her stomach as a test specimen. Her buttocks are spread, and then…

Hrrrr-HARK!

…a ball of saliva the size of a golf ball fell right into her anus. No, no, not there! – she thought. – No, not there!

The answer to her mental plea was the swift insertion of that perfect, throbbing, streaked penis the diameter of a tennis ball. June’s cheeks flushed; The first push took her breath away. But as soon as this meaningless rhythm began…

Oh yes, there! – she thought. – Yes, yes, there!

Indeed, she felt ‘s hand move up in her ass. Had he pierced her to the stomach? In that peculiar moment of abstraction, it occurred to June that sometimes what a woman wants more than anything is just to be stuffed with , used as a container of meat and stuffed to capacity, stuffed like a turkey until there’s no room left for anything else. then shove.

And if that’s what women really want, then it was June who got it in full in the midst of this wet, disgusting, exhausting fantasy.

Her heady exultation could only be expressed in one word: Awesome!

The incredible erection was moving back and forth like a piston and the fact that he did it without paying any attention was even more amazing. The need for a suitor robbed her of all personality: she was no longer a thinking, living American woman, she was a writhing, shuddering, meaningless thing that was used solely as a receptacle for the phantom’s animal lust.

And that was just great for June! My ass is stuffed like a gas station toilet… and I LOVE it!

The Phantom must have weighed 400 pounds[78] and it was all muscle, and when he lay flat he squashed June like a Twinkie[79] under a cinder block (if she was full of cream like a Twinkie) , it would be everywhere now!) All the air came out of her, her tongue stuck out. It took an incredible effort to slide her hand under his belly and push him into her hot hole, and she knew all it would take was one touch of her fingertip against her thirsty clit and then it was: City of Orgasm.

Silent brainless admirer mercilessly thrashed her ass. June’s finger was two inches, one inch, half an inch away…

Almost, almost…

…and once the contact she longed for was made…

– Hey girl, well, well, and whose is this delicious, beautiful ass sticking out!

The marauder’s voice destroyed the fantasy, and the gates of Orgasm City slammed shut.

Damn! Who…

June, returning to the boring reality of her life in general, and the even more boring task of mixing marine paint on the front deck of that old, rickety fishing trough, flicked her eyes back and down.

It was Rummy, the tramp from the nearby dock, grinning toothlessly through the reddish beard that covered most of his face, and scratching his crotch through a jumpsuit that had probably not been washed in over a year.

– It’s impolite to stare at people, Rummy! she shouted.

– A girl with an ass like yours shouldn’t work too hard, hmm! It looks like something indecent was going on in your head, you writhed and moaned so much and …

– To tell the truth – yes, and you just ruined everything! she barked and continued to stir the paint.

– Then what do you say if we go down into the hold and continue from where you left off?

What do you say if you drink your own urine instead? – June thought furiously.

– What do you want, Rummy?

– From you? Nothing, girl. I just wanted to ask if you’ve heard of Capjack, but I think you have, seeing how you work for him now.

– Brilliant observation, and yes, I heard he’s back in town.

– No, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant Kelly Point.

Jun grimaced as she moved away. The paint was like viscous toffee.

– What about Kelly Point?

When Rummy scratched his beard, a blizzard of dandruff hit.

– Well, if local gossip is to be believed, Capjack just got back from there and then landed his crew on Brewer Island. But when he sailed here, there was nothing in the hold of . The hold was dry as a bone, so the head of the dock said. And Capjack was able to pay cash for this new Caddy and started spending money like Donald Strump… or whatever his name was. Donald Gates?

Jun stopped stirring and turned around abruptly.

– Wait a minute. First I heard it was Devil’s Reef, then Dunedin Reef, and now you’re saying he just got back from Kelly Point and that he landed his crew on Brewer Island. However, I heard it was Saint Mary’s Island after I heard it was Kent Island. What the hell is going on?

– Gold, that’s what.

Jun looked at him in bewilderment.

– Repeat!

– That’s what I heard myself… he came back with gold , and must have been quite a lot, because he left the Salisbury gold exchange this morning with a hundred thousand cash .

Jun frowned.

– Even if it’s true Rummy, how did you know?

A man dusted off a rusty shirt.

– Very simple. My sister works there. She told me.

June knew that in a city like this, almost all the information spread among the local population was ninety-nine percent gossip.

– Fine, Rummy, but I still don’t believe it.

– Then where does Capjack get the money from?

That’s a good question, but. ..

“I don’t care,” she decided, and squatted down again.

– Where is everyone? Rummy kept guessing.

A murmuring sound followed the question.

– What do you mean, where … – June shuddered. Rummy stood on the dock and peed in the water in broad daylight. – At least look away when you do this, Rummy!

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he said. Were flies buzzing around his penis? He removed it, but not surprised, and did not even zip it up. – Look around. Noticed anything strange on the pier?

It took June a few moments to drive away the vision of Rummy’s unwashed cock for years. But then, as her eyes scanned the long expanse of boat docks…

Damn, almost all boats are DISAPPEARED…

– Where did they all go?

– What do you think? Rammy replied. – They all rushed to Kelly Point, looking for a cache of gold found by Capjack. There are probably a lot of them out there. Rummy went down from the pier to the small boat where he usually slept. – That’s where I’m going now, I’m not a complete fool. Do you want to move with me? he added with playful enthusiasm.

– No, she said. – No thanks.

– Everything is in order. See you later.

I hope not, – June thought contemptuously.

Rummy pulled the cord, started the small outboard motor and swam towards the bay.

There’s some weird shit going on here, she thought. Devil’s Reef, Dunedin Reef, Kelly Point, Kent Island, St. Mary’s Island, Tooth Eel, Mixin Eel, etc. Every time I hear one thing, I immediately hear another, completely different. And…

She was amazed. Gold?

She has never heard of a single grain of gold in these parts. But it was strange that Capjack so suddenly began to actively spend money. The only thing tighter than Cupjack’s wallet was a bull’s ass in fly season. And now, she thought about it, why did he buy the gold-colored Cadillac? He looked like crap.

In salty, seafoam-covered cities like this, there were local legends, but the theme of gold did not fit into any of them. No hidden treasure, no pirates, no sunken Spanish galleons.

The paint was mixed and the sun was roasting her back. She dragged the jar down to the stairs leading to the first cabin. While she opened the portholes to get some fresh air, her thoughts were constantly occupied with questions. Wouldn’t it be funny if I found a gold coin here? A then…

– Oh-Oh-Oh!

In the next moment, she stepped on something and fell – crap! – right on the ass. I should have turned on the light downstairs, it’s too dark in here, and…

What did I trip over?

She narrowed her eyes, patting the floor with her hand. There was nothing – no! Her hand touched something cold and hard and uneven. Was it a piece of glazed porcelain? It felt smooth and polished to the touch.

June picked it up and held it up to the sunlight streaming in from the porthole.

And stared in amazement.

What the fuck is THAT?

This is was a six or seven inch[80] metal object with rounded edges and not quite symmetrical outline. The only thing she could compare it to was a Baby Ruth bar, but of course Baby Ruth bars weren’t made of solid gold.

This thing was.

It’s a gold bar or something! – June guessed. – That old bastard, Capjack, really FOUND the gold!

June’s heart began to pound. She paced quickly back and forth, her eyes wide. The thing in her hand was apparently only a tiny fraction of the entire stash that Capjack had found. Like when you bite into a sandwich and the crumb falls to the floor – came a weighty comparison. And with the price of gold over a thousand dollars an ounce, poor Judy never made a penny, even after a hard and honest life. And she knew one thing for sure: that fucking “Baby Ruth” bar would be coming home with MOMMY!

Theft, shmarovstvo. She’s not like that, no, but in Treasure Seekers… Kapjack has ENOUGH gold, and this asshole is sure he knows where more of it is. Well… he went to hell. She put the gold bar/piece/bar in her pocket. But even though she now had a small fortune, she still had to paint the damn boat, otherwise Capjack would get suspicious. He dropped this piece in her pocket unnoticed, but if she stops immediately…

He will understand that I have found something.

So she decided to get to work and pretend that everything was in order, although she prepared to pick up the soiled rags, rollers, etc. and naturally the thought came to her mind:

Maybe there is something else. Maybe there are a few more pieces somewhere, the ones that Capjack dropped and did not notice!

Some internal controller went off in her brain and said: Enough is enough. Do not be greedy. – And she immediately answered this controller: Fuck off .

On all fours, she continued to rummage around the ancient floor in every dark corner, and it must be said that the excitement caused by finding a piece of pure gold was combined with the excitement of finding more… June was not surprised to find that “the purse of her womb” beats like a heart and wets her crotch; and although her mind was completely focused on gold, part of her consciousness was filled with images of the most lustful kind: members in her mouth, members in her ass, members in her “honey pot”. All this and more passed before her mind’s eye, and one imaginary cock after another poured huge jets of cum in and on her.June was so horny that she was had to force to keep his hand out of his shorts for more substantial stimulation. You will masturbate later, horny bitch! And now you’re looking for gold!

But alas, in her extensive, knee-stained search, no gold was found. However, she did find one beer cap, a cigar butt, an M&M (green) and. ..

Fu!

…a rubber glove with a brown index finger. It was clear how good Captain Cupjack was spending his free time.

She moved on to a small closet she wanted to skip, but for some reason didn’t.

Perhaps she should have done it.

She unlocked the narrow door, and…

Fucking asshole!

…a real pile of skeletons spilled out from there. It was easy to see the bones of four people, and she didn’t have to be an expert in Euclidean calculus to understand that the bones made up the “crew” of Capjack. June, of course, jumped out of the pantry in a split second, but that split second was enough to absorb the details of this horror.

The skeletons were still wearing clothes that seemed to be half eaten away. One would have thought that the people had rotted to the bone, and the clothes remained, but how could this happen? There was no smell of death in the air, except perhaps the pleasant smell of the sea. One victim had a glass eye. It could only be Tommy Ray Swain, a local slacker and cheeky fisherman who liked to gouge his eye out in a bar and throw it at people’s booze, an occupation that matched his frivolity. June once fucked him at school, but later regretted it. First, she didn’t get an orgasm for her efforts, and second, she got a urinary tract infection.

But that’s another story.

The bones were also clean, without scratches. None of them had a piece of meat, tendon or cartilage.

Anyway, June jumped out of there with her 40 kg ass as fast as her frisky legs could carry. rushed through the wardroom, flew up the steps of the gangway, grabbed the doorknob and…

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! FUCK-I-I-YAD!!!

The door was locked!

She must have closed it herself when she went down. She violently kicked the door. She didn’t budge. Then…

What the FUCK?!

A quick glance through the window on the door showed her the following:

Good old Capjack sat in the captain’s chair in the wheelhouse, sipping a bottle of Wild Turkey.

How could that old bastard not hear me knocking on the door? With that thought, June BANGED on the door as hard as she could.

– Hey! she yelled. – I closed myself! Open the door!

Capjack did not move or respond.

It was only then that June realized that the door cannot be accidentally locked from the outside . It was a latch that needed a key…

– YOU ARE A FAT, DRUNK, FUCKING PERVERT! she roared. – YOU LOCKED ME!

At these words, Capjack turned in his chair to face the door and, grinning, waved to June.

Whatever was going on here, June didn’t have time to guess, but she immediately realized three things.

First, without an ax, the door cannot be broken into.

Secondly, the ax was in the engine room.

Thirdly, in order to get to the engine room, she would have to pass by a pile of skeletons in a storeroom, and there was a huge possibility that on such a journey she would encounter something that sucked the flesh from the bodies of four men.

Oh, and fourthly, the only reason Capjack would lock her inside was because he must strongly desire June to meet the same fate as his team.

June went rogue as she gracefully stepped over a pile of corpses that had fallen into a narrow corridor. To get into the engine room, she would first have to go through a bunk cabin, and she did so with some trepidation—so tremulous that she peed herself. Awesome, she thought. It was dark in here, with only one round porthole at deck level on each side, and, she could guess, the switch was on the other side of the cabin, next to the engine room door. The suffocating heat seemed to roast her; she was sweating. Before she had gone three steps, she felt strange bulges under her slippers, as if she were walking on pebbles. Looking down, she saw, even in this dim light, that the “pebbles” were gold nuggets the size of baby glass marbles.

She noticed something else: the pleasant smell of the tide. The cabin was only six feet long, but to the touch it felt like six hundred. There were six bunks along the walls, three on each side, and in the dim light the crumpled sheets and pillows looked human. June didn’t need this illusion. However…

What does it smell like?

The smell was earthy, musky, but not offensive, and, to tell the truth, kind of exciting.

– This is NOT the best time to get aroused! she whispered.

Finally she reached the door to the engine room, grabbed the handle, turned it and…

Fuck it!

…it was locked.

Now there was no choice but to return to the main entrance on the top step of the ladder. And… Fire extinguisher! It hung on the wall. Maybe I can break down the door for them!

As soon as she opens the door leading out of the sleeping cabin…

click!

…someone has locked it from the other side.

Wide-eyed, June looked out the small round window and saw that Capjack was smiling at her.

She roared as loud as a trumpet:

– You’re a drunk, old, fat, perverted piece of dog shit! Open the damn door! What’s happening? What have you done with your team? I’ll KILL YOU as soon as I get out of here!

She heard his muffled voice behind the door:

“You’re NOT coming out of there honey,” he chuckled. – Look at the ceiling.

Ceiling? June was out of breath, horror and questions mingled in her head. She looked up at the ceiling, and at first saw nothing of note; there wasn’t enough light to see anything except that the ceiling was black, or almost black. But as she squinted at the bumps, her eyes began to adjust to the low light and out of the corner of her eye she saw, right there on the bunk (next to a magazine called “All hands on dick!” and a jar of Vaseline) a large flashlight.

Fuck yes! – she grabbed a flashlight, turned it on and directed a strong beam of light towards the ceiling. ..

And peed in shorts again.

Ceiling… moved .

Imagine a 300 lb[83] wad of fresh bread dough falling to the floor and slowly spreading. That’s what this reminded June of, only it wasn’t on the floor, it was on the fucking ceiling, and it wasn’t bread dough because bread dough can’t be the color of, well… feces.

Then the lump separated from the ceiling and fell right on June.

Holy fucking SHIT! she thought as she struggled with the tent of foaming goo that had landed on top of her. It formed a kind of bubble above her, shrinking very slowly, and June got the strange impression that the creature was doing it on purpose to prolong her horror before it completely covered her. She also had a few other strong impressions, one of which was that a mass of surf-smelling brown poo seemed to be intent on eating her.

Whatever it was, June didn’t care. An alien who splashed down in the sea? Secret genetic experiment out of control? Or just some unknown, previously undiscovered, sea creature?

June didn’t give a shit.

She collapsed on her back, then stretched her straight legs up – alas, a feeble attempt to put struts between herself and this constantly sinking mass of sea fat, growths, reef slops or something else. The flashlight remained on, and when the top of this “bubble” dropped to her feet, she directed the light upwards.

I’m out of my league here , she thought rather grimly, and by the way she peed herself again. Wrinkled holes like octopus suckers began to appear from the inside of the dump, and she knew immediately what had happened to the team. As soon as these suckers come into contact with her flesh, they will begin to secrete mucous digestive enzymes, and then they, yes, they will suck. They will suck all her flesh down to the bone. And once it’s liquefied and digested, any fool knows what’s going to happen next. What goes in must come out, right? June would be digested by the creature’s intestines and then regurgitated through whatever monstrous monster anus the disgusting thing had in its ass.

Moreover, it will not be vomited like a normal poop, but like gold .

As her feet struggled with the sinking wet mass, it occurred to her that she knew much more than she should know. These quick impressions that flashed through her brain had no logical explanation, but nevertheless the impressions came, and with them the whole essence. That fucking ugly pile of shit is a TELEPATH! – she realized. – It sends signals to my brain and lets me know about it!

Very slowly it continued to contract, the suction cups pulsing. Using her legs as props for the top of the “bubble” didn’t do any good. As soon as she realized that the mass would fall on her and begin to chew, she noticed a strange thing in the moving light of the flashlight…

Member and balls.

Or something like penis with balls: shiny milk chocolate brown bag, heavy, with two fist-sized pieces, like testicles, on top of which lay what could only be flaccid, streaked, uncircumcised dick .

June’s mind has switched to a thoughtless, almost automatic mode. She didn’t think consciously, she just acted instinctively.

She reached out her hand and began caressing the bizarre genitals.

For a few moments her fingers played with her testicles; she felt them pulsing inside, and at that moment she noticed something important:

All this indivisible mass of slop that surrounded her stopped descending.

I bet this bastard is horny , she concluded. – It must have been a long time since he got a single sea slug butt. Let’s see how he likes the HUMAN ass…

She crawled on her knees through the dripping ichor and without hesitation sucked into her mouth what could only be the creature’s penis, never ceasing to tickle her vulgar gonads. The penis didn’t become erect like a man’s, but instead throbbed in his mouth like a living heap of damp plasticine. June’s tongue wandered over him, feeling the bewitching network of pulsating veins, and once or twice slipped over the fleshy, round orifice that she could only guess was the end of the urethra. She wanted to try to stick her tongue into this hole, and when it widened enough, she knew that she had made the right choice. Being even shivered with pleasure.

So, the creature’s body did not fall on it and subsequently swallow it. It wants me to suck, – she realized. – Gee, why doesn’t THIS surprise me? But this thing’s cock was so different from a man’s that she didn’t know where to start. Weighing all considerations, she “fucked” the hole of the monster’s “urethra” with her tongue, sinking in and out, realizing that this would lengthen her life. However, after a minute, the hole shrank and June decided it was time to get down to business. She began to tighten her mouth around the veins of flesh, but it was too thick to take with her lips like a normal cock. But then what?

Wow!!!

The strange huge penis in her mouth suddenly stretched, gradually narrowing, and moved down her throat. This advance continued unabated until it reached the stomach. June was lucky she didn’t have a gag reflex. The situation can be compared to, say, a fat snake slithering from her mouth into her belly.

No movement…

She began to move her head back and forth, her throat sliding over every inch of this “snake.” Damn! – she thought. – It’s not Deep Throat[84], it’s Deep Stomach! She felt the creature tense up and felt psychically that the creature was dragging on her oral assistance. Obviously, members are universal: if you suck it, then ejaculation occurs, and so it was with this member at the moment.

June’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. This thing went into her stomach like it was a feeding tube. You must be kidding me! Was that a pint[85]? Quart[86]? June’s belly filled with hot liquid, and as the serpentine penis slipped out of her throat, she continued to flow . A quart, damn it – yes, this thing spewed out a whole gallon[87]! After being fully extracted, her mouth was still full of cum.

What was like the sperm of this creature?

Hot tapioca pudding? A bucket of peeled raw oysters? A huge volume of frog eggs? All these comparisons put together are probably just a parallel. The amount in her stomach was indeed a grim prospect; it seemed to bubble up there and move and seep out. At least I don’t have to worry about buying dinner… Further considerations left her confused. First, after being orally rammed by the sea monster’s cock, she expected to feel disgusted and horrified, not…

Not what is ?

Excitement, – she realized.

Yes, June was more aroused than a nun who was drunk on “Spanish fly”[89]. Her vagina throbbed like an angry fist pounding on the door. She gave up trying to isolate her thoughts when she realized that the thoughts of the creature were still entering her head, but not in the language of emotions: lust, desire, need and… yes, love!

This huge monster slime spit LOVES ME!

And in a moment, June – without any conscious consideration – decided to physically take advantage of the love of the sea monster. She was already out of her shorts, sprawled out on her back in less time than it took to say, “Fuck the crap out of me!” It was in those few seconds before the physical act that the same mental/psychic act became more acute. Yes, this thing loves me, it’s all right, and he’s going to prove he’s not a castrato, thought June, and she was ready for love, hard love. Her female canal was soaking wet, her nipples swollen to an unprecedented size, they tingled and throbbed. Her womb felt like a pot of sexual stew, bubbling, bubbling, shrinking to be stirred, and she knew she was going through some major hormonal or cerebro-chemical change. Is it okay to want to be fucked by a sea monster? Meanwhile, the sea monster was undergoing its own changes. The massive “bubble” of his body began to turn inside out and back, and when the transformation was completed, in front of June stood about 300 pounds[90] of brown, spotted, slop-smelling porridge, which vaguely resembled a human figure, i. e.: without joints, arms and toeless feet, roughly corresponding to the torso, and an eyeless, noseless, mouthless, earless lump of head. Imagine a monstrous “gingerbread man”[91] or a Gumby doll[92], shit colors…

But Gumby didn’t have an erection, and this thing had one, a foot and a half inch high, a pulsating radiator hose. From the wrinkled crack that crowned the head, like from a leaking faucet, pre-cum was pouring. Those ugly, fist-sized testicles that June had met earlier clenched in their hideous scrotum as June looked up, drooled, and her legs painfully parted; and somehow, in the most abstract and introspective imagining, the monster looked at her with the same desire, despite the fact that his knobby head had no eyes.

In a feeling of need that could only be compared to madness, June’s hands reached for her gushing cunt, nothing like she had ever experienced with such force. If this thing doesn’t start fucking me hard RIGHT NOW, I’m going to have to fistfuck myself!

– Come on, buddy! she roared. – Give it to me! – She lustfully put forward her open vagina. “Does it look like you need a fucking invitation?”

No need for the preamble that led June to the subsequent case; suffice it to say, instead of platitudes, that this heap of oceanic slop in the form of a man fell on her like a pit bull on meat. June wanted to be fucked and she was fucked. The creature made meowing noises as it lay on top of her, writhing, moving the plastic cock back and forth in June’s “love hole”. Just as it lengthened and narrowed to penetrate her belly, now it lengthened and narrowed to penetrate the very depths of her reproductive tract. At the front of the cervix, it seemed to become semi-hard and then slip further, further, deeper, deeper, through the physical boundaries of the uterus, then unbelievably splitting into two writhing tendrils, each fluttering even deeper in the fallopian tubes. The convulsive sensations that ran through June’s body were clearly inaccessible to any human woman until now. The creature continued to fuck her mercilessly while the delicious cock-whiskers continued to flutter and produce neural pleasures so intense that June could only lie – limp, drooling, tongue out – and feel. The conscious part of her brain shut down to focus solely on the waves of orgasms that pulsed through her being. Finally, her lover’s musky orgasm began, triggered by the release of his pudding-like semen, streaming into every inner recess of June’s reproductive apparatus. As the creature clumsily began to stand up, the unearthly penis continued to pour more cum into it, and when that was done, it straightened up and looked down at June with unseeing eyes, whose body continued to spasm for at least another half hour.

* * *

Captain Cupjack was sitting on the deck under the wheelhouse canopy, nearly finished his first bottle of Wild Turkey of the day. A satisfied smile touched his drinking-purple face, and he even squeezed his crotch. The thought of June being eaten, digested, and pushed out of that disgusting creature’s ass simply delighted him beyond words. That puffy cunt will finally get what she deserves, – he mentally chuckled. She taunted him for years, smirked at every attention, even rejected his offers of good money, fucking and sucking every cock in town, every cock except poor old Captain Cupjack’s cock. Too good for me, huh? Think you’re too high to be a captain, huh? Well, how do you like me now?

What now?

Now this rustic gravy boat is nothing but a pile of solid gold shit on the floor.

Yes, Capjack really liked this idea.

He waited a little longer, lazily stroking his beard and continuing to clutch his groin indiscriminately until the sun rolled further across the sky, and then he stood up and creaked his swinging fat down the stairs to the lower deck. As he approached the engine room door, he smiled out the window, looking out for the treacherous skeleton that was to be what was left of that naughty sperm-vault trash named June. However…

– Where the hell is she?

No trace of June’s remains was visible, and only then did the captain notice that the door was no longer locked and the bolt was broken.

What the hell is going on here? – he thought and scratched his Amish-style beard[94], and then thought that maybe things didn’t go the way he planned and that maybe he should fuck his fat, drunk ass and get out from there without delay, but…

– Looking for someone? came a snarky voice behind him.

It took some time for the meaning of what was said to sink into Capjack’s whiskey-clouded mind, he turned around, narrowed his eyes and saw none other than June herself, standing behind him, naked and glistening with sweat.

– Hey you scheming cum-throat whore! This creature should have eaten you!

– So it was, – answered June, – until I fucked and sucked him to the bottom, and he fell in love with me. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. – Cute? Be a sweetheart and get down here. You must be very hungry after all the wonderful love you have given me. Well, the soup is ready!

Capjack screamed as the sea slop slid off the wall and engulfed him. June used the next bunk as a front row seat; the only thing missing was popcorn. The pitiful fat figure of the captain floundered helplessly in the seething, hungry heap. She had to believe the old pervert, at the very least, in his determination to unleash every possible sexist slur on her as long as his vocal cords were functioning. There is no need to repeat these curses here … well, if you think about it, maybe there are, just a few, in the interests of completeness:

– You are a dirty trash, a fucking bucket hole!

– Fucking prostitute, you drank more cocks than I did whiskey!

– I bet you got more members in your ass than came out shit!

And so on. Anyway, that was the end of Captain Cupjack, and the beginning of a new life for June!

* * *

A week later, June was sprawled out on a lounge chair on the sundeck of her brand new 22m Stardust houseboat.5]. No more crappy cheap apartments, and no more minimum wage jobs to turn your ass over to horny bosses. No, from now on, social life began for June. In the trunk of Cupjack’s Cadillac (which June searched the night of the captain’s “disappearance”), she found several million gold excrement, not to mention the extra gold the captain had turned into after passing through the sea slug’s digestive tract. She would never lift a finger in her life, and she thought she deserved it.

– Rummy, get me some more Long Island Iced Tea, okay? – sounded her languid request from a deck chair.

It was great to just lie on the boat all day, bask in the sun and “refuel” with cocktails. She hired Rummy and Rybka for her team – why not? They were lazy alcoholic idiots, but she thought they deserved a break. They served her not out of fear, but out of conscience, cleaned the boat, prepared food for her, and so on. June liked the idea of being courted by men.

– I’ll get up now! – Rummy just peed overboard.

Then he shuffled into the galley, where there was a fully stocked bar. The fish was down in the back, scraping shells off the prop, and June just kept lying there in a Bill Blass bikini, Ray-ban sunglasses, and a $300 Tropican hat, and she would be happy to spend the rest of her days the same way. Ah, life is good! – she thought.

But one question remained, didn’t it?

What happened to the sea creature?

As much as she wanted to keep him locked up for use as a personal sex attendant, she knew that would be terribly cruel. It was a wild creature, an inhabitant of the deep blue sea – whatever the hell it was – and it belonged to the deep blue sea.

And she released him into the deep blue sea.

The best male cock I’ve ever had, she lamented because it would be ideal to let him fuck her every day for the rest of her life. But how fair is this to… to… to… to this ? To a sea creature, to a sea monster, to… this bullshit, whatever it is?

One thing she knew beyond all doubt: no earthly man would ever be good enough again.

Day care in salisbury md: THE Top 10 Daycares in Salisbury, MD | Affordable Prices

THE Top 10 Daycares in Salisbury, MD | Affordable Prices

Daycares in Salisbury, MD

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