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It is much easier for a two-hump camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a poor man to enter the kingdom of lucre and subscribe to the trillionaires’ club. Ain’t that what they say? Hell, yes. Though, I don’t give a damn who the hell ‘they’ are. However, whoever ‘they’ are wouldn’t have been further from fallacy.  Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. I am not further from the truth.

It started with the Inspector General. It was his mbois in blue who started the crackdown on us. He ordered them and gave the green light for Operation Nasa Miandarati. Well, biz is down, and every town in the country is too hot for our operatives – thanks to the top cop. In his police-reformed mind he refused a too-good-to-turn-down offer.

Our bosses’ names have been making headlines; too bad, and unheard of in this business. Despite stashing the briefcase that the IG turned down, plus bonus, the Minister for Internal Security still tabled the names of our bosses in parliament. What a shocker it was. He double crossed us, too bad for him. The whole world, America and Britain leading, have come down on our bosses like a ton of a thousand bricks. That’s why that terrible accident had to happen. Our condolences to the friends and family of the minister, there wouldn’t have been any other way.

Others, our next kingpins, they dragged to court. In her justice-must-be-served convoluted mind she took the money yet convicted them. Here’s the deal she offered: she was to convict them, but release them after the appeal, please the public and at the same time keep the part of her bargain. That’s not how it works. Even the Mafia knows this. Fine, people are mourning, I feel for the bereaved, but surely, why be so avaricious?

That was the beginning. We had to go for the scum first. Now we are going for the trash.

We know that the police resell what they seize from us through a network of street dealers. Imagine that!

Getting rich out of our expense, reaping where they did not sow.

We know each and every one of them.

From Inspector to Constable.

Watch out!

Copyright ©Vincent de Paul, 2013.

Robbed by Flesh

However, even after paying the ransom, her abductors didn’t keep their part of the bargain. That was until today in the morning when she came with tears in her eyes and confessed.

“It was Rob,” she cried. “My boyfriend. We cooked everything up. Dad, I’m so sorry I stole from you.” Like she was contrite.

To My Daughter

We men never stop for women
we are always on the move going somewhere else:
          on to our next conquest,
          a tighter squeeze,
          a new adventure—
Our heads staring at the noon sun
like the breasts of a virgin at fifteen.

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