27
Feb
15

Counting on gold 4

Life’s options

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Back home where he came from  ..  where he’d spent his boyhood they had a way with types like this.  Stick ‘em up on a cross.  Let ‘em die slowly  ..  over days  ..  publicly  ..  for all to see.  Any lawless motherfucker, the worst kind of sonovabitch  ..  murderers, rapists, persistent thieves  ..  put ‘em on a cross.
Corpses were always left to rot  ..  deterrent to any other sucker who thought they’d give that murderous kind of life a try.  Well, motherfuckers  ..  types like this Conan  ..  this is how you ended up.  If the boot fits wear it.

As a boy Azoth had loved watching brutes like Conan getting crucified.  It was always a day to escape duties at his old man’s anvil  ..  Azoth would race off with his friends  ..  bags of stones dangling off their waists.  Expectant on the street corner for first sight of today’s stinking sonovabitch.  He and his mates gathered there in the lanes screaming and shouting abuse as types like this Conan was paraded through the streets. 

Pelted, abused, taunted..  Rotten eggs would have been stored up.  Horse shit missiles formed.  The mob knew that some monster like Conan would be dragged through the streets.  They come well prepared.  The guards held them back  ..  but kindly.  Not bothered when the swine took a stone to the head.  Smiling gratified when stinking egg splattered on his bare chest and slithered down.

Chains on his ankles, manacles on his wrists  ..  a linking chain in-between hands and feet  ..  the murdering swine could only shuffle along.  No hands to fend off a lump of horse-shit that hit him in the face.  To howls of delight from the mob.

If put to it  ..  when his other partners wanted his ideas  ..  getting rid of this robbing Conan in one nice final shove  ..  Azoth really couldn’t think of a better way of ending it all.  Conan in undying torment on a cross.  Bring back those nostalgia memories of the past.

 

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