The Ghul

Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go.

-Proverbs 22:24

I want to kick someone's ass. 

Seriously....

It's not like me. 

I blame the Ghuls. 

They came from me from a woman in England. 

She was afraid of them. 

I love them. 

I didn't believe at first until I took them in hand and asked to meet my favorite rock star from the eighties. 

I'm not freakin' kidding here. 

He (or an agent purporting to be him) tweeted with me within twelve minutes.

My favorite rock star hates Obama, loves his mother and likes to eat tuna (and I don't know if that was a metaphor).  He has four kids. 

Whoa...no wonder I like him.  He sounds just like me (sans the fish). 

Interesting....

The Ghul teach me to stand up for myself. 

These entities abhor violence. 

If I take them with me and people try to attack me, the abusive idiots end up getting the worst of it. 

I wore them on Saturday night. 

The ghul heighten my senses.  I can sense danger a mile away.  I can read foul intent.  I can also gather evidence prior to saying anything quite quickly. 

The last time I wore them in public, I hypnotized two nasty lawyers. 


The time before that, I caught a neighbor trying to poison another neighbor's cat

The time before that, a neighbor was harassing the renter living across the street.  I went across the street to intervene and caught the faint smell of liquor on my abusive neighbor's breath.  When her psychiatrist hubby and psychology professor roommie confronted me for getting involved, I called them enablers. 

That bratty woman was terrorizing the neighborhood for well over a decade.  My words must've sunk in with her spouse, she got help for her alcohol problem and it is much more peaceful here. 

Then...there was the time the man in the basement got violent with me on a sunny April day.  I shouldn't admit what I did to him but, in my defense, he pushed me to the floor and broke my glasses. 

My high school sweetheart took me to lunch the next day and knew something was wrong.  I probably should've told him but I couldn't  bear to ruin his peace.  The man would go to the ends of the earth to protect a woman...so, for that very reason, he will be the last to know lest he wind up in trouble. 

The local politicians think I'm battered.  One is trying to get me a job as a teacher.  Another says she wants something more for me than to stick around here. 

I'm wondering why the lady handing out clothes to battered women gives them to me. 

Victimhood is a choice. The stupid patriarchy is the problem.  I need to get out of here without getting entangled in the patriarchal set-up of the judicial and welfare systems. 

It's a matter of having the right plan and being smart about it. 

If I get a good job now, the spark plugs in my car will be removed.  The money was stolen when I found an office.  He stopped paying the credit cards in our names when I expressed interest in a job (which required a credit check) and started looking for an apartment.  He got on welfare when I ran on the Libertarian ticket. 

Sabotage is a way of life with an angry man.  I'm not sure he's conscious of what he does.

Why am I thinking about this? 

Well...on Saturday, I spent the night babysitting my granddaughter.  She went home around 12:30 a.m. 

We had a new batch of renters move in across the street.  They partied until 3:30 or so.  Around 3:30, I heard a man scream at the top of his lungs.  I flung myself out of bed,
ran downstairs,
turned on the porch light,
flung open the front door
and glared at the guy jumping around in the front yard. 

I yelled out in the darkness. 

Hi...I'm the kind of bitch who'll call the cops if you act like that in the middle of the night. 

He jerked and ran into his car. 

I stood in the doorway for a few moments and went back upstairs.

The yelling began again. 

I run back to the front door, making sure he could hear it open by slamming the broken screen into the brick facade on the door jam.  I fling on the porch light and ignore the fact that my breasts were hanging out of my silk nightie.  I glare at him and boom...

Really?  

He ran from his car and into the house. 

He's quiet now. 

I saw the woman living there this morning.  She's beautiful and has a toddler. 


So...as of now... the ghul have a new home in my window next to my video camera.  They'll watch over her.  They'll also drain the batteries on my camcorder.  Spirits do that.  Someday metaphysical researchers will  probably look at the connection between spirits and electricity.  There is something to that. 

Maybe I'll give them a little treat.....sand...... black onyx.....freedom.....actually, that's the first thing I do when spirits can be confirmed.  I give them the freedom to roam wherever they wish to go so long as they don't do anything that harms anyone.  Go forth where ye will with harm to none and return when I call for ye.   

Maybe I'll cast a spell on that house, too.  I hate spell casting......I really do.  Freakin' around with the natural order of things is best done at a minimum. 



Never again...

Love,

S.