The Nail (2)

Book 1: Chapter 2
June 7

Now, you’re just going to have to trust me on this next part as to how I know what I know, but for the time being, just take my word on this, OK?

So after my assailant confirmed I was dead, he held his blade up, watching my crimson-grey blood cascade down the metal. That’s when he did something that might shock you – in spite of not knowing my Covid-status, and even though he was definitely NOT socially distant as he continued to straddle my body, my attacker took off his face mask! (Oh the horror, right?)

Yet what he did next might make you run for the hills.

“I wonder…” The goon said as he brought the knife to his mouth and licked his tongue along the shank. “BLAH! PLUFF! Why, it tastes like… dusty moth balls? Baron, don’t tell me you’ve been crazy enough to experiment on yourself too?”

Unfortunately for him, I was in no condition to reply. However in a rather ironic twist, the record player hadn’t been disturbed by all this commotion and was still playing the Jim Reeves Anthology — now softly sounding Guilty through the speakers…

Dufus that he was, the intruder never noticed this cruel coincidence. Instead he put his face mask back on and then continued the task that he came here for – ransacking his way through my home, he pulled down rows of dusty books from built-in shelves, broke open my dilapidated cabinets, and cleared my closets of rummage, whiskey bottles, and even my dirty laundry — looking anywhere and everywhere for but one specific treasure.

It wasn’t gold, food, toilet paper, my stash of counterfeit Immunity Passes, or anything that held worldly value – for even though I plenty of those rare commodities, my intruder as after… something else.

(Fool! He has no idea what he’s about to do. But, whatever happens, YOU are here to witness that it wasn’t my fault, right?)

For a moment the masked brute paused in thought as he stood among feathers still floating in the air after slashing my mattress (yeah right, like I would hide It in there?). “C’mon, I know it’s here somewhere.” And he scanned the room, until finally, “Aha — the TV!”

And in a flash, he bounded back into my living room.

I still lay motionless in an ever-growing pool of blood, yet the murderer paid me no mind as his eyes searched for something specific – for it wasn’t really the TV he was after.

When he couldn’t readily locate his desire, he took a step back behind the Laz-E-Boy and retraced the steps of his intrusion; throwing a shadow punch or two to mimic his previous assault, and then following along the path of his destruction, finally he came to, ”Yes, I’ve got it!” Kicking the Roku aside, he hungrily grabbed the rectangular box that my rabbit ears had previously sat upon.

“Ha, Antennae Stand my ass,” he ogled the smoke-scorched caisse as he took a seat in my chair, caressing the 10×6” black box. “So this is one of The Three, eh? Oh, my lord is going to be so happy with me — I wonder what kind of reward I’ll get?”

He scanned the sides, trying to see how to open the box. When he located the tiny s-clasp, “What the–? John, you don’t even have this locked?” And flicking off the clasp he then began to open the box “Is that any way to protect one of Jes—“


Thunder shook the house, and the temperature suddenly plummeted – surely sending chills tingling over the man’s body — yet still he looked into the box.

He began to hyperventilate in his mask and his body became gripped in a cold sweat — yet still he looked into the box.

Removing his mask, he took a risk and tried breathing in fresh air, yet his lips began to crack from a sudden parchness and his tongue became as dry as the desert sands — yet even still he looked into the box, totally captivated by the object inside.

Minutes turned to hours while the intruder sat motionless, maskless, and absorbed by what was once my most prized possession.

Until at last, the man began to reach a meaty paw into the case…


Yet, even as he griped the cold relic, he must have realized it was a deadly mistake.

“YAAAWWWPP!” He wailed in agony, flying backwards over the chair. Unable to let go of that which he came for, my murderer’s screams continued for but a moment more, and then he collapsed in a heap, bleeding from ghastly holes in his hands and above his ankles. After only a moment, his shirt began to fill with blood, and I knew that his side had been ripped open as well — allowing his punctured lungs to let flow their contents. Even his hair became matted from the blood that also pulsed forth from the multitude of tiny punctures that wrapped a picket-fence around his scalp.

Oh, please don’t be surprised by any of this, after all, this is the way it always happened – as another would-be burglar died a death infinitely more gruesome than that which he had inflicted on me.  

In fact, I myself could tell you this, for I had witnessed the man’s demise.

Rising from a pool of my own blood – and feeling older than ever — I frowned as I looked upon the new mess in my living room, “Hrmpf. I suppose I have to clean up another one.”

I could have checked the man’s IdentiChip to learn more about him, but I didn’t wanna risk activating any 5G sensors in the area by turning on my biometric reader – especially when I knew why the man came anyway. Like all the others he only wanted one thing and that was all I needed to know about him.

Taking a quick breath, I hoisted my intruder-turned-corpse over my shoulder and carried him out through the kitchen door and into my backyard. You might be shocked that I didn’t put on a face mask or that I dared touched another person without knowing their Covid-status, but I’m not a sheep like you so I knew that masks didn’t work against Covid. More importantly I knew the truth about the Covid – it’s a scam! –so complying with a bunch of regulations that were always more about population-control than actual science was never my thing. I’d been around long enough to know a fascist power play like The Great Reset when I see one, and this was wasn’t even hard to recognize because the globalists behind this version of the New World Order didn’t even bother to hide their agenda.

So the technocrats had a new idea to control the world – what do I care? Do what you like, just leave me in peace.

I live on the outskirts of Williamsport, PA – the name of the township is actually called ‘Cogan Station’ – I doubt if you’ve even heard of Williamsport and I KNOW you haven’t heard of Cogan Station – and that’s fine by me. I bring it up now just so you can get an idea of my lifestyle.

I prefer to be alone.

I live in the woods and while there are a number of other home sites nearby, I don’t have any neighbors within shouting (or snitching) distance and that’s the way I like it. My place is located about ten miles off the main road and it’s a good ways into a wooded glade. I have the land cleared out around my house, but there’s still quite a bit of woods that surround me.

All of which means I get to keep my privacy – usually.

Besides the mail (read: spy) drones, every so often I get a visitor – someone from a elderly outreach center (read: contact tracer), or a neighbor who forgets that I don’t like to be disturbed, or perhaps a group of courageous kids who are looking to mess with a known anti-masker like me.

And sometimes I’ll get a visitor like the fellow I got today — which is always a bit of a nuisance.

After I hefted the goon to the yard, I had to catch a breather – thankfully this was easier without a mask to block the fresh country air.

Ahh – I can’t believe this is illegal, I chuckled to myself at the absurdity of all the “New Normal” Covid rules allegedly designed to keep us safer but in reality accomplishing nothing but destroying our freedom.

Now if you saw my lands, you noticed that the rear of my ten-acre property has quite a few dirt piles scattered around; to most people these mounds would probably look like mere compost heaps for my garden — and on the surface they are.

But dig a little deeper and you might be surprised at what you find.

I spent the next hour and a half going digging yet another grave. After I dug the IdentiChip out of his forearm, I gruffly tossed the man into the grave and hauled a bit of compost from another pile to cover the site – burying yet another secret in my yard.

“Hell, I’ve got more skeletons than Dr. Fauci.” I wiped my forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m gettin’ too old for this crap. God curse your soul, scoundrel. You made me miss my Phillies. Amen!” Then I threw down my shovel and stormed back towards my house.  “Hey, maybe I can catch the postgame?”

Yet even as I said it I knew it was a pipedream. First I had to get out my own drone and fly the attacker’s Identichip to a location far away from my house – that took me another hour.

Then I had to drink a beer (or three) to calm down.

Finally I had to clean up inside the house.

When I came to the object that had caused the death of my attacker, I casually picked it up the thin piece of black iron and placed it back into its case. 

Too bad this thing couldn’t kill me too, I lamented.

After that I set about the task of trying to get the TV upright again – things didn’t go well at first and I started to let the expletives fly as my anger rose, but just then a new Jim Reeves’ song came filtering out of the stereo speakers – Adios, Amigo.

It was Jim who finally saved my day – for I couldn’t help but sing along with his song, in good cheer at last, “Adios, Amigo. Adios, my friend. The road we have travelled has come to an end…”

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