The Rise and Fall of the Great Saundini VI
Hello again faithful readers. If there is anyone left. I don’t know why I continue with this since I am writing to what is empty space, except that I really want to get to the end of my future, so I will continue…
Here come the waves again… that’s write, writing, I’ve got a letter in my hand and I am about to hand it to my beautiful ex-wife. However, en route I see a friendly looking dog-walker cooing at her pet as I walk down the road beside her. However, this is strange because the dog is a big fierce looking alsation with glaring sharp fangs. They feel painful as they grip my leg extremely tightly. Politely I turn to ask the kindly dog owner if she can call her snarling pet off me before it rips off my leg, but she just smiles back and reassures me that “he wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s a very gentle dog”. However, I am starting to disagree as the blood starts to become cut off from my leg and I feel my bones starting to click. A red hot pain courses violently through my body. “Really” I tell her “I need my leg to deliver something to the woman I love”, but her face turns to that of anger, “Don’t be so stupid, boy!”. By now I start to panic and my sense escapes me overriden with a sense of flight. When the dog starts shaking my leg in his mouth, I suddenly flip over backwards and land a huge kick right in the jaw of the beloved pet, knocking the dear alsation unconscious with a sudden whimper. I lie face-up on the floor, my right knee feeling like it was aflame, wincing at the dusky sky. Suddenly into view pops an angry face followed by a handbag, which hits me again and again picking at my face and lips. “You monster! Just because you’re rich makes you think you can do whatever you want! I’ll sue you! I’ll sue! Mark my words I’ll sue!”
Eventually the police were able to restrain her and I, with my face bleeding and my leg below my knee cap dangling by a thread of ligament, am taken to hospital. So disgusted are the staff with my animal cruelty that they refuse to give me anaesthetic for my operation, thus making my amputation as unpleasant as possible. After a few uncomfortable weeks in hospital, I go to court in a rusty wheelchair and sit trial. Having looked at the price fee to hire a professional lawyer I decide to defend myself and lose my fortune, absolutely all 2.5 billion pounds worth of it (bare in mind by this time inflation has made this seem more than it actually was). The two most decisive bits of evidence, my obvious wealth and my innate evil as a result of my richness (money being the root of all evil), which inspired many a church pastors sermon, as well as the unliklihood of my defence considering animals. There were plenty of witnesses, whom I thought would validate me, but the questions asked of them were so leading that they could only validate the fiction that the opposition presented. I was guilty. My punishment: Hospital therapy (jails of course being so overcrowded became abolished and instead used as council estates to solve the housing crises around the country) and the relinquishing of one half of my fortunes to the ruling political party RSPCA and the other to the “victim”.
Hospital therapy was horrible. Effectively, the treatment consists of making me violently ill until I learn my lesson demonstrated by filling in a forests’ worth of paperwork explaining my sorrow for the sins I have committed and how repentant I am, complete with a signiture at the end. A signiture of course means that there is absolutely no possibility that they haven’t reformed. Ater all anyone can act, can’t they? Some people had spent years in these mental institutions before they finished filling in the necessary documents. And then every dreaded evening the medicine was given to us. I see the nurse enter my chamber, I being strapped down onto the bed by my arms with velcrow straps, a little peg leg where my lower limb once was. She’s carrying a spoon. And here comes the small metallic aeroplane, containing it’s corrupting oily shipment about to make my temperatures rise and my stomach stormy. My neck is strapped down and if I resist two burly men will inevitably come and force open my jaws, and my first experience told me that I didn’t want that to happen again. I give in swallowing the sickly liquid and suddenly my eyes go swimming.
How predictable, the end of my vision. I’ll be back next week, you probably won’t, but I will be! Bye!
