Ten thousand years ago, the mighty Cekko people ruled the land. This, according to the KD's measuring tools and how such records are kept in Kingsland. The scepter has now been passed on to these, a ruthless clan of murderers and thieves. They are the ones now in command, and the entire Kingsland is just about to feel the caring habits under the right lefthand of their peace. One man and his dog from the past are left walking the path, hoping to find even a remnant of the ancient kinds, but...

Note: This story is told from a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective. In a richly blended language mix of; nonsense talk, sensational spelling, double entendre, poetry, and Jamaican Patois. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here. Yeah, Man, a Jamaica yaad mi come fram, sorry, I meant to say; I'm Jamaican born and bred, okay?

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