I don't do skiing. It's dangerous. To be honest, I'm not sure I really like my kids doing it. They're 9 and 11 and built like lollysticks. I've seen the odd kid come back, when I've been waiting for mine at the airport, in a chair, leg in plaster. Mine have been lucky, so far.
But they love it, so they're going. They'll be all dressed up in their winter coats (pink, of course), scarves, hats, gloves. Big, big smiles. They'll both take their favourite soft toy - one a leopard, one a panda, because they're not too old for that, yet. They'll have wine gums in their bags, which I've planted in them, and they'll take a handful of Euros with them to spend on overpriced rubbish. They usually bring me back an ashtray or something, which I always treasure.
But mainly they're really excited, because it's something a bit different from getting up, having breakfast, going to school, having their tea, and telling me all about what they've done all day, though it's the same as most days.
One plays the piano, the other one sings. They don't know what they're going to do when they grow up. I never did. I still don't. But they have ambitions, of sorts. Tomorrow is another day.
There will have been people like these kids at that airport in Russia, I expect. And someone, who had different aspirations, someone who has been brainwashed by somebody's religion, or something, who thought that he was fulfilling the prophesy of some godforsaken cause, by blowing himself into a lot of pieces, in the name of shit, and taking with him people like my girls.
I have a message for him, and people like him.
If you are unlucky enough to take mine with you, I will pursue your family, your animals, and as many generations of your miserable offspring as I outlive, and I will make them suffer in a way you cannot begin to imagine. There will be no parts left recognisable by your alleged god. I know that society will judge me to be insane, because society today is a shapeless lump of unimaginable shit. But I think the way I do, because that's how I am. And, I believe, I am not alone.
I would probably go to jail for this at some point. Because that's the fucking world we live in.
Be lucky. Please be lucky.
Thanks for listening.
7 comments:
Tip Top Post Marvo... You ain't alone
When it comes to terrorists I don't believe in forgiveness, an iron fist ruthlessly applied is the only language they understand and deserve.
Certain ideologies have outstayed their welcome on our planet - if the politicians don't act to rid our world of this filth then we will do it for them.
yes, that we will. BTW- a lump hammer is better than an iron fist.
Morgan.
you are not alone in expressing those sentiments
Hear! Hear!
My children may be grown but I am still the one who will always be there for them. Nuff said?
Take care,
Almost xx
Very well said. And u r def not alone in those thoughts. My children are adults now but if some piece of shit claiming to kill people for his god should harm a hair on their adorable heads then your retribution threats would be as nothing compared to mine. I think most parents would say the same
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