One Man and His Dog, Walking

We were marching along with the dog and him, continuing with the twisted tales story.

There they are, going, the dog and him, slowing. Trying to go find what’s left of them. Yes, those whom you already know are other friends of mine, but. In his minced-up mindset, as he’s beginning to see such things getting vetted in prime time. He’s trying to forget, yes. But look at him again, his ways are not mine. He wanted to even up the score with Essence his friend on tour, you know. That’s why the walking shoes are now hanging from his poor shoulder at the back door. His back too, is heavily laden with the stick and you, once more.

There, where things are hitched grudgingly and bearing with the hang-up kinds of things hugging me and his pops. As he has always done, by hanging them on the bent crooked end of it like props, yes, on the end of his walking stick is the rest of his clicking, crackling kinds of tits, I mean, tips,yes, the tip of his walking stick was heard clicking on the sand. Out into the hopeful village, they’re going along, look. They’re headed there now. Searching for… “Hoof, hoof.”

“Mi blow wow. But, but.”

“But what?” How did good-going sorts of living things ever get this good long-distance line away from proper, and good living anyway?

“Chickens were coming home to roost her I’d say.”

“Yes, the comfort zone had come falling and tumbling down the hall in one day. It would have finally come fallen off their miserable, sorry, I meant to say, the miserly crown foot on the clay near the doorway, but then again…”

Cutting through the clutter, some were able to see a divided gutter. The fingers of the younger ones, or however much more than that one, were sliding up and down the pulse of Pan am world affairs and power full gears. The real players were playing the Bears, (unfairly so, I hear.) Just as it was known to be done over there, all the time. But the new age sun had finally begun to shine on the younger men’s behinds. They were readying themselves to strive for better and to come over, alone. Coming up on fair at last you know, on sober tooth to bite at bones. “That was the way to go all around the Kingsland world and take it over for the youth, as it was known, no?”

“I suppose so, but.”

What they found there was alarming to the ear, to say the least in talks so clear. (Or not.) So, the old men quietly went to work chopping away at the dirt. At the same time, the young ones were doing their own cache of not snoozing and crying for their worth, but. They were moving in on removing those dirty old ways of theirs, and the dirty nest itself of dirty old men’s feet on the potters’ clays. As well as those dirty old men of those dirty days themselves, at their last worth, when and wherever they could. “May I just spit it out and say it as I would, yes?”

“Yes, go on and get your head checked, like I knew you would.”

There was a war waged against many, including the young and friendly, a silent war it was. Waged from the headrest of the tugs, to come tumbling down upon the young man’s head on the bed of thorns. Youths would have borne the brunt of it for ages. As the phrase was and still is, the old was accustomed to winning the cages. So, that was just what they did at the first fist of rages. Yeah. That of the kids. Those over there who were the sort of naive who never learned how to keep their own secrets. Go shouting it all about the platforms other haters provided for them so to do shits.

So that they; old men I’d say, wouldn’t even need to continue to pay dearly to spy on you, them, or they. Just needed to sit down, wait, look a round of, yes, booze, or eight. Listen to what you’re there telling him that you’re about to do, and live high on, guess who? Yes, you, (or low.) So came them in, to learn how to rely on the youth’s kinds of easily accessed insights, for the tightening up of their upper screw in the pants that’s way too tight, before they go.

But as for them, those younger men than them and their friends. Those young men started building their own niche for a living. Like, bitcoins, bit notes, and bits slips, among other such things as this one that I’m giving. To exchange value, pay for servicing their sheets, and get things shipped. Like wine and cheese with biscuits. Old men were to soon get wind of this, nothing has been the same sane ever since.

How did things get so quickly out the doors and into the hearing of the old soldiers though? By the legs of those very same younger men, would be a great bet to go and play domino. Decided to side in with the old men for a cold spend, at the hands of those same old men. Men who were there trying to cement themselves into that old way of theirs, of course, and in all the spaces in the doorways, on chairs of sorts.

The silent war was born at last, and many were going to die and be gone to Rastafar-I, later on. Loudly, if that needs to be the command as it was de sided upon by gray-haired old men and soon to be coming in proudly. From the farm, even, where he was hanging out and still unharmed, that very evening. Along with the whole bunch of them. Including him. He who is still walking along there, can you see him? Beware.

While the old guards were over there keeping wards over everything here. Doing so by doing whatever they have always been doing, hard, and unfairly. They, the young ones were congregating somewhere beyond the dumb ones, and behind the scope of old men’s images in Asian hair ring aids to get it combed once, see?

“Yes, I see.”

“Well finally, somebody is getting to see the vision, like me. Soon I’ll be free. Good nest gray shuts me.” They were even getting into bed with the lead ones from amongst the freed ones. That was the key thing to get at the knee strings in the kingdom, right? Yeah man, and you’ve got a lot of eyes to be able to see these things — Evans Homes, “no?”

“No, just him.”

“I agree, I can surely see him, look, he’s over there looking back at the knee-jerking swing.”

“Well, look at me some more, and guess the reason for this low score.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Well, as said before, you and I are from among the more horns, so Go on, continue to sing your swaying song, because. Quite unlike you, and me, those others over there across the pond, weren’t going to sit around stoning the winds, twisting the nights away, and platting sand. They were busily working on another plan. Just the same as the young man dem. Those who some people sometimes call, “men.” But not all of them.

Well, not the same as in, kind of plan, but. They’ve always been planning how to stay in command. Yes, those older ones, that’s what they do, all the time. Until the young men heard the alarm and asked me why, the whine. Even though I lied to them in my kickback king reply. They knew right away the reasons why, so. That’s when they started getting their better moves on. Out of that, the fraternity was born. “Quack Plapp,” so it dropped popping the hail out of the birthing sack, you know what?

“Yeah man, just like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that webbed-feet duck quack hopping along to go unpack, and to make space for a cache of duckling chicks to chase away from the hatch, yes?”

“Yes, chasing those chicks of his far away from frock king the gray shuts land dead hatched up plan of his king man, right?”

“Yes. It’s what we’re talking about, the kid boy of Hinghs’ ton of towns tonight, yes, or no?”

“Yes, I guess.”

Yes, that’s the correct address, because his wristband took a swim on the wind towards the pond, to go waving them along. The one that is always on his right left hand that is, look, look at it going, going, now gone. Swinging in the other direction is he and him, yes, and she too. Yes, he’s dancing with Sue Hingh, but, what a booboo. The coming together of the young and brilliant minds of the new daytime was made able to save a bit of the earth on the clay pine. Sheamus and Essence would have heard of them (in essence) and stayed fine. He wants Ted to have a stumbling fit upon them if nothing else.

“To go out and see the spies walking the lines along the shelves?”

Yes — guys, like. They wanted to go tumbling down to a complete stop upon even a remnant of them in the town known to them to be closer to the pit of descent they’d sent and selt down home. Yes, going off to sell it on them, again. Like, on the young genii, and their friends. As seen through the eyes of the men of wealth in their defense.

“Oh sheet. Did it happen like this?”

“Yes, it happened to you, the same as it did to all the rest of them in the crew, if you cared to know the truth about such things. Even before they could get a chance to say, ‘yes’ and touch skins, they were drafted in the pen.” So, they pretended to be in agreement with them, I’d guessed, working things out in both their interest, because. Wink, wink.

They, the young men okay. They went and started another war, one that old men would have known about even before he’d picked up his guitar. As it turned out, that war would have been more grievous by far, than those before. The old men were to have zoomed in and gagged his’. To come away knowing exactly what time of day it was and is. Then slid into where the other of his friends were hiding intent on deciding at what hour he was to be going out and striking the kids, buff.

“Mi gut, that was really rough, no?”

“Yes man, yes, he’s rough like that one, just like the desktop man when it comes to him hitting them, or anyone else yes.” But we still want Ted to know more, so tell us. What was the clock humming to say to the bore in Porus? By the time the young and naive minds were to finetune the prophet TikTok sign. They were to have been lying down dead and dying at the hands of those lying old men kinds.

“You’ve got to be lying.”

“No, not even trying.” The hammer was always quick in coming out. Without a doubt, they weren’t about to go changing that boat in Bathurst.

To be continued.

That’s it for this excerpt. Be sure to join us again tomorrow or any time thereafter, to continue with the story. Don’t forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you’d subscribe and follow us somewhere too, thank you.

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Just an excerpt from my book called “Twisted Tales from the Big Fail.” A Novel: Real Inky Trails Series.

By writingelk, All Rights Reserved.