Satirisk Eventyr. (28.Sep.2017) Yesterday morning I had this obviously clairvoyant vision:
I saw 4 persons standing in front of me in a basement. To my left were 3 persons side by side and facing the 4th person standing abt. 5 feet in front of them to my right.
The head of the middle person to my left was not visible, appearing to be “exploded” in a yellow, starlike blotch. I perceived this person might in fact be myself.
What could this vision possibly mean? Frankly it puzzled me right until I left my flat early in the P.M.
I then met one of the possible Mossad-puppets working, I believe, more or less on or near the property?
Although we’re obviously not really on gracious speaking terms he accosted me asking if I had electric power in my flat. On account, he said, knowing the power in the basement was presently entirely gone.
I explained I in fact had power when I left my flat minutes ago.
Continuing my walk toward a bus stop, about one minute later I seemed to perhaps encounter two other potential Mossad-puppets rounding a nearby corner in their car? Possibly one of these men had recently behaved (physically) threatening toward me (on account of a trifling argument)?
1. Was I supposed to have gone down in the basement to inspect the power outing?
2. Were the two other men perhaps arriving one or two minutes later by car supposed to likewise have entered said basement?
3. Was I then supposed to have been mugged by three punks, perhaps until knocked out, i.e. my head/consciousnes substituted by said “yellow starlike blotch”?
By the way, what could a “yellow starlike blotch” symbolize?
Yellow: Often an emblematic colour of Mossad? Likewise the yellow star? And also typically the colour of (electric) danger.
The starlike blotch: To be hit on the head until knocked out; representing a calamity or explosion, especially in connection with electric power (otherwise typically reddish).
Summing up it might seem a hit-squad set-up like the above could perhaps have been planned early in the A.M.?
Again one must remember, that the Mafia follows closely – acoustically and in real time – all my daily activities in my flat.
Thus they know instantly if and when I’m planning to leave my flat and they can most often easily (what, with their wast ressources?) time an intercept on the stairs (see also https://blocnotesimma.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/what-happened/ ) or in the street almost to the second or at least to the minute?
You know, the telephone HAS been invented and a mafia headquartered in f.i. Hellerup could easily micromanage a trifling set-up like the above.
But, alas, why don’t we try and have a bit of fun in spite of this dismal atmosphere of darkness and dread? Let us try and create an – still entirely hypothetical as a matter of course – satire on a telephone conversation betwixt a Mafia-commander in, say, Hellerup and one of their many young and willing puppet-helpers. So here we go:
HL: Hello Pup – this is me, the captain, I’ve got an important microjob for you. Are you ready?
Pup: I’m always ready – you know that, cap!
All right. Listen carefully. You know this jerk living in that appartment house, that dumb peasent that don’t like the Mob. The piece of sh*t! We’ve been asked by our spindoctor in the ministry to try and teach this dumb jerk another lesson.
Apparently on account he just this morning reposted one of his insane blogposts aiming to throw an atmosphere of ridicule on one of our puppet-ministers in government. But don’t worry about all these particulars. Just do what you are told – right?
Sure cap, I’m ready, I tell you!
Well, listen up! On account of all our listening devises on the property, in your cars and in his flat I know for sure he’s going to leave his flat in about 15 minutes. Here is what you have to do.
In about 5 minutes you go down in the basement and pull the plug on fuse no. 3 – thats the one that controls power for the laundery and bathroom in the basement. The door will be open because of workers in and out.
About 5 minutes later you start loafing in front of the appartment house while keeping your cellphone open to me. Got that?
Sure boss, that’s a cinch. Go on.
All right good boy. Now when this jerk hits the street you just chance to get close to him. You then ask him if he has electric power in his appartment; tell him you ask because you happen to know about a total power outing in the basement. Keep your cell phone open to me all the time. Got that?
Sure cap, piece of cake. Go on.
Good. Here’s what’s important. You have to try to mince and sweeten your words so as to entice this jerk to go down and inspect in the basement. That’s very important on account our two friends will arrive just one og two minutes later. They are parked just around the corner, I’ll have them on line all the time. Got it?
Sure boss, got it!
All right. When you three strong men have this dumb peasent jerk suckered down into the basement you have to provoke a physical confrontation. You know what I mean – you just hit him and knock him out. But don’t kill him right there, be carefull, we want him alive. I personally want to torture him for a few weeks before transferring him to the homeland.
So you just throw him into the back of your van and hit the road to here. If anybody sees something, just tell’m he was hit by some high voltage on account of technical problems in the cellar and you are taking him to a hospital. Sure you got all that?
Sure boss, no problem, he’s as good as gone. Trust me, it will be a cake walk!
Good, but remember we’re doing gods work, and nothing can stop us! Got that? And remember if you don’t follow instructions to the letter we’ve got a few remedies to make you feel some pain. For instance you know you are living illegally in your house, and just a word from me to my philippus-friend in the town-hall can get you evicted. Got it?
Sure chief, you can count on me! You know that! Trust me!
All right, pup, we’re all set. Go for it! I’ll call you in 10 minutes.
END OF SATIRE.
Crossposted on www.gamleboeger.dk and http://blocnotesimma.wordpress.com
tweets on www.twitter.com/gamleboeger