Consider this.

If the friend or brother whom you'd helped out last week, by putting fuel in the car, like this. Was the same one whom you had helped in like manner, the week before? Now he's coming again this week to ask for more. Like, the same favor from you at your door. What is there to suggest that he won't be coming again next week, for more? And then, when the big-ticket items come up, like, not the gas this time, but the car or the bus, Ted cup cup. Guess who he will be running to first and foremost? Yep, the same foo? I mean, the same person from whom he already knows that he can get what he'd set out to get. With neither regrets nor long-term debts to pay back, anyway. Will you now obey what I have to say? Don't say nay, whatever you do or don't do, do, please.

How did we get to this, though? How is it that you have allowed yourself to be talked and taught into a situation like this, where you're now oh so vulnerable? Your very existence is now dependent on the grace and favor of the other man, and the terrible. It was probably when you started listening to them and looking over the fence. That was when we, you, him, and I, stopped doing our kind of things.

We stopped acting in ways like those of our grandparents, your great-grandparents, yes, and mine. The way they had acted for thousands upon thousands of years, on their side of the fence, was divine. Which would have brought you, and me, and them, yes. Our children, even. It was those things that had managed to bring us thus far. Did we ever think of using the rearview mirror in our bus Ted car? Do we as a people ever turn around and look behind us? If you have, do you like what you now see on the bus? I mean, do you like what you see? I sure don't.

You cry for help, but none is forthcoming (or first.) So you run to your brother or sister, the one you have taken on in recent times, and running to, while humming, always Mister. In the place of your real brother, sister, mother, and father, too. Oh, wait a minute, I forgot, it's not true, not many of those types are left around these parts of the lot tory pots who? No, not for you, none of the father types. Not many of them are floating around in this group, I wonder why? Could it be that those are (or should be) cut from a different piece of cloth, like me? He would have different ways of looking at things by nature and in his thoughts, no? Or at least, if they don't, they probably should, but they may also have a way of rubbing the supplanters the wrong way.

The fakers, someone else might say. So, if and when they do come, (the men type?) C'mon. If and when they come to your churches? They don't usually stay, not for long anyway. It could even be because those, real male types, the father types, are probably supposed to be able to see and think things through, even twice. Think differently than others do, even me and you. Not like the others, such as supplanters, you and your women (wanters) do. "Amongst others?"

"Yes, but." Is there someone somewhere with a vested interest in keeping the men out of the lives of the children? Out of the families of a certain kind of people, with the intent of killing them? Our people, mostly? Am I even allowed to ask, you Boasey? Those "other" family members, though, are all you seem to care about over there, no? Oh, it's getting late, so might as well go. I'm out of here.

To be continued.

WritingElk.