SOUP CHILD PT FOUR
The evil Decon John had drowned Braken Hurter in soup and had banished her
father, the Alchemist from the villige.
Grey clouds walked slowly across grey sky. Silent was the field were Cunt Ox
had hitched his caravan. The Alchenist wistfuly looked on at the melenchony
clouds.
'Roll on my animals of peace. Some where among you my daughters spiret
lives. Take care of her. Treat her well and give her plenty to eat.'
His thoughts were ruptured by a plate of food that was shoved under his
nose. The alchemists eyes sadly raised them selves and rest on Cunt Ox the
gypsy travler.
'No thank you my friend' he said werily.
'Your hungry and you know it. I defy you to eat' said Cunt Ox.
The Alchemist took the plate from him and studied it while Cunt Ox sat down
with Sprite who was tearing into his fleshy portion of food.
'Rodent garnished with stinging nettles and truffles again I see.'
'Yes eat it up. Its nurishment." Said Cunt Ox stuffing a small carcuss into
his mouth, then adding 'I ate maggots when I was in prison. They were
norishment too.'
'No doubt they were.'
There was a long silence while the three men ate their meals. Then sprite
broke it.
'How long has it been since we were exiled from the village by Decan John?'
he asked.
"Six months' mumbled Cunt Ox with a mouth full of ferret.
'Six months since my daughter's murder. Murderd by that holy fiend' snarled
the Alchemist.
'When we left the village you spoke of revenge. Is it not time? Surly the
spiret of Braken Hurter has beseeched you in your dreams?'
'Yes Cunt Ox she has. And the time is ripe to avenge her. Tomorrow we shall
travel to the village of black Decon John. We'll pitch camp secretly in the
forest. Then we shall put my plans into operation. You two shall assist me.'
The Alchemist pulled from his breast pocket the metal finger that once
belonged to his daughter and gently stroked it.
'Decon John shall hear the music of revenge I mark you.'
'And what does it sound like?' asked Sprite.
'Like drowning chamber music.'
Deacon John had become number one citizen in the Village. The people
rejoyced with glee at the exercution of Braken Hurter and the exile of her
farther. Decon John was paraded in the streets as a saint amongst ordenary
men.
But now the people were glum. They lived in loathing of him.For he had
become powerful. He had minipulated their confidence in him. He ruled with
fear and muscle bound limbs. There was a curfew at eight o'clock at night.
Anyone thinking of witchcraft, no matter how inocent were ducked in the lake
and were heated up. People had to go to church for confession every five
minutes. He confiscated all their crops, fruits and vats of wine, claiming
that God did'nt like them eating it. He would gorge himself on the hard
laboured harvest. Stuffing his face full of chicken while the villagers had
to be content with lumpy porrige. He would tour the house holds looking for
nimble young maidens to take back to his parish for chastity training. He
would fuck their boots off. Much to the anoyence of their mothers. Some
times he would do naughty things just to anoy the villigers.
'How be you today Tom?'
'I be well pissed off Joshua. For Decon John just dropped a turd on my
bedroom windowsill .'
'Did it smell?'
'It fucking stank so much I could hear it.'
'He be a hard man, he be.'
'Yes.'
'But how some one gets their arse up on a bedroom windowsill beats me.'
'He be double jointed in all the right places he be.'
'That may be Tom. But there a correct proceadure to shitting in a public
place.'
'Ooohhh that Deacon John has it coming to him.'
'I'm beginning to think that old Alchemist and his wayward daughter were not
too bad after all.'
'Yes. He would have given the Deacon a run for his money. And who knows, may
have rid the village of his presence.'
'Yes but with his daughter gone. His followers in jail and he exiled, it
will never happen.'
But Tom and Joshua were speaking too soon. For the alchemist had a plan to
bring his daughter back to life.
Sexton Ming