RIBBONS OF LOVE
Bright all day long. Fine weather. Children are playing in the park "Doctor Jackyll & Mr Hyde". Doc's barking. The sun's hanging down the river. Millions of creatures taking a deep breath. Shiny. Shiny. Shining. Weather's fine.
Cat's crossing the road. Low-level-music sounds through the village, meanwhile children somewhere can't survive from hunger and suffer.
Girl's rolling skateboard. Boy's doing the same. The air smells peacefully. The space's running down empty. Mothers are crying for their children. Some children coming home immediatly. Some don't. Fathers are running for their children. They kept their children by their hands.
Somewhere deep down the alley in an old menslaughter-house someones are making love tenderly. Meanwhile they're crying for Love the facades clatter.
At menslaughter's house had lived a young family more than twelve years ago. The family it was: Mother Mo (her Christian name was Moniquè, but her nick-name was only Mo or sometimes her husband called her "my sweet, sweet Mona") she was twenty-seven. And her husband Bob, the father. She called him sometimes "my Robo-Hero". Strange, but lovely. However; he was thirty.
Their children were two daughters. Frampy, her right name was Franesca, but they only called her Frampy. She's seven. And Maggy. Only it was her nick-name too, correctly she was called Madgelein. Maggy was five.
At once Mona and Robo had making love in the livingroom, meanwhile their children slept in bed. "Pssst!" she whispered. Meanwhile he kissed her thigh. "Psssssssssssssssssttttt!" she hissed again. He stopped kissing and listened. Then they'd listening together intensivly the noise from neighbourhood.
A young boy was crying with his whole soul. He cried for Help. He cried four, five, six times. Then silence.
Imagined that cry they got up. They went to the window and they had looked out. Outside the alley was empty. Every house from neighbourhood stood peacefully and dark at their sites. Everything?
No, not everything! Only one window was illuminated. It's farmer's house on the other side of the alley. Mo and Bob stood at the window. Then Bob said: "Nothing to see! Let's turn back...," even in the quietest moment when Mo said: "Just wait a moment!", there were shades behind the window-curtains from farmer's house.
With some phantasy you had seen that a big one beats a short one. That thing the big one has, seems like a cricket-rocket!
The short one cried with his whole soul for help. Bob ran to the telephone. Mo cried: "CALL FOR 999!! THE FARMER KILLS HIS SON!!!"
When the police came and got in farmer's house, they got out very quickly. They hadn't arrested the mad farmer! A lunatic one! The police came and went away! Without the farmer, without the boy!
Another day Mo, Bob, Frampy and Maggy lied in their warm blood. With steeleyes had been frightining from the last shock. The expression in their dead eyes from saw death face the face.
When the police and Scotland Yard came they shaked their heads from right to left. Some young policemen were immediatly shocked, ill and looked out for the toilet.
There were hands, arms, legs and heads everywhere in the room. On table, on armchairs and on the floor.
You could had read it next day in the local newspapers that a lunatic, mad farmer, father and husband, often he was drunken, killed young family from neighbourhood with unusual violence, after he'd killed his own son and his own wife. The son was eleven. The wife was thirtynine. After he had killed three children and three adults he did suicide.
Since that day farmer's house and the house from neighbourhood local famed as menslaughter's houses. But that's long ago. Now it is 1993 and nothing has changed. And somewhere deep down the alley at home in one of menslaughter's house she's sitting sexy and cries, meanwhile he's pulling and pushing his willi tenderly into her private parts. Suddenly he stops the rythm of love and hisses: "Psst!"
She's listening immediatly. Both together listening intensivly to the noise from the neighbourhood.
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