Apples

October 30th, 2019

Bring me an apple he commanded the slave girl. She glanced at him in bed before she walked out of the room, he was laying in a bed covered with white sheets while wearing a white robe. It was fitting foreshadowing. She walked to the kitchenette, the lights got more intense, and her thoughts flooded with things like "pick the right apple, you can't pick an apple, you are about to get in trouble, do you see the bathroom, remember the last words he said because who knows in how many days until you hear his voice" and she pushed those thoughts away...telling herself like so many other times that she needs to be positive. How can picking a fruit end so poorly? Re-focusing on fetching an apple, she picked the most red one and washed it. Bringing it back to him with a smile and an air of hope. Then his face dropped and she knew. He spit out the apple and told her it was garbage. All she had to do was get some apples and she wasted more of his money. The disgusting red apple mocked her with it's shine against his white robe. The girl brought him another apple and although passable enough to take a bite of, he eventually proclaimed he wouldn't eat it. The slave was reminded by him of how little he's found apples he liked and she brought him terrible ones from the same store as the good ones.

Eventually and unsurprisingly everyone else moved on. She wished he would just beat her, choke her, kill her...something to allow her move on from the pain of ruining his apples. It's terribly numbing to always feel like your Master hates you. It's a terrible thing to be a bad apple.

1000 words a day.

October 30th, 2019

This morning started like none other because no day is really that similar to the one before. I had been sleeping and dreaming of all sorts of weird things - missed final exams, a boarder check composed of only dogs, and me desperate to find the gelape. Sleep abruptly came to a stop (which caused me to wake up heart racing and desperate for air) when I heard the sound of Master's slippers flip flopping in the hallway. These days my brain takes a good minute to reconstruct reality from the dream interweb it created of my past lives and current fears. I escape into Master's room and the next fifteen minutes is spent in a joyous morning reunion. It's now late October in Budapest and the weather has just turned - making the time spent giggling and cuddling under the blankets all the better.

The topic of what I secretly refer to as the 'doin it adventure' or more publicly known as the Harem's Grand European Tour 2019 came up as a point of discussion.1 So many different things have happened in the last month of travel and so much is left to document. But for now, lets happily recount the last few days.

We left Prague on Monday the 28th of October at around 11AM for Budapest and with a tentative plan to visit Bratislava after Buttapest. Us leaving includes no less than three suitcases, six bags, and five coats. You can do the imagining of how many laptops, cameras, cords, cases...etc. go with that amount of luggage. A few hours into the drive the plan changed and now the harem is instead making a derailment to Vienna! We've been all over Europe by now and only one place has managed to make the steaks exactly correct. Why not have a steak stop in Vienna?2 After dinner some tasks ensue3 and we make it to the hotel in Budapest by 840PM. Did you follow all of that? Three countries in one day isin't so bad. The rest of the evening is spent performing militaresque unpacking, glove searching, and then rum - lot's of wonderfully spiced rum and coffee.

Yesterday, Wednesday October 30th, morning was spent with the intricacies of driving to breakfast and finding a parking spot in the over populated city. More parking garages please!4 After breakfast it was errands time, which included a stop at a few stores (one stop being to purchase Zubrowka cherry vodka, which until now we haven't been able to find outside of Poland.) and the local market. Such tasks brings us to the end of the day and thus in Budapest tradition - Kebabi time.5

1000words-2

liget-4

1000words-3

This retelling of the past few days has led us to this present moment. Tonight we pack and tomorrow we return to Romania. Despite the crying and cursing that has ensued over the last month (that we will necessarily get to later) I am sad that this portion of the trip is over. Fortunately for me, tomorrow I'll have another thousand words to reflect on my boring life. Until then I am off to buy a dozen apples and search for Hungarian vibrators. Oh you know...suck tasks. Wish me luck.

  1. Which also sparked a decree of me to write 1,000 words a day. Slavery isint conducive to free time, so as usual my first thoughts were filled with panic supported by reasons of how this won't be possible. If not curbed, these thoughts can become a slippery slope which leads right to the failure train. The only way to run out of time is to waste it. []
  2. It's a great place called the Porter House - across the street from the fantastic Goulash Museum which is next to De Capo Pizzeria. This is really the corner to come to if you are hungry without reservation in Vienna. []
  3. I was handling some phone business in a nearby mall. While living in the states, I never once physically went to a phone or internet providers location. Similar to a DMV you take a ticket and stand around until your number comes up. I take a ticket and breathe a little because I am number two in line. Still though, people love waiting in lines so to be sure I ask the guys ahead of me if I can switch. They decline my explanation of how I will be 10 minutes at the very most. Fine. Soon the fuck boys are called up (fuck boys as in how much pride they put in their 80 dollar sweatpants, the new fade, the shifty movements, and how much they lick their lips.) - apparently one got a new phone and its a big to do. I wait and fucking wait for this other dumble dick who has been camping at the register to move on. I get pissy and talk the guy into helping me and I am out of there. Still though, an unacceptable amount of time wasted. []
  4. You see my friends, I forgot Master's umbrella which necessarily meant that he needed to be dropped off at the door of what we'll call the breakfast palace. This caused me to drive past the one parking spot in a five block radius. From there the naive attempt was made to use a nearby parking garage with free spots! How lucky for a slave. Oh, but wait... this is a boat parking garage where a crane will pick up your car and carry it through a roller coaster of cars until it drops it on the right one. However, the dubious worker does guarantee (while laughing) that all you need to do in order to retrieve your car is: press the button while tugging on the rope only when the light is flashing and then turn the hanging wheel two turns to the left then four to the right. We would never leave Florimund in such a trap, but leaving also led us to crossing a bridge and further unpleasantness before finding a parking spot. []
  5. Hannah found the best place for kebabs and hummus in the city. Such a treat as Romania and Costa Rica has nothing like this. 1000words-14 This picture from the kebab place has been sentenced to the footnotes because of it's derpiness. []

Missed Connections

October 18th, 2019

I'm falling behind you, desperately gripping a phone in my hand while the cold wind beats against our faces. You start walking faster and I can't focus fast enough to understand where we are exactly on this strange city's map. The first wrong turn I direct makes my heart race and my head fill with self deprecating thoughts. Five minutes ago you were telling me to be less stressed and now your supposedly comforting words will haunt me for the rest of the night. By the second wrong turn I know I've done it and you confirm that this is the case. I'm instructed to wait on the other side of the bridge and maybe if you feel like it you will come back for me. My thoughts are coming so fast that I can't focus on any specific one. Bingo, I fucked up again by walking to the wrong side of the bridge and I hear your voice calling me a stupid cunt. It's at this point that I let go of any hope of salvaging the night through my service. It feels cooler out now, the sky is dark, and the wind is strong. The bridge is immense and watching you walk away feels permanent. Autumn nights usually feel lonely with people but this is something else. I spend some time debating if I should jump knowing how hopeless everyday feels. It's a complicated thing to have the ability to ruin someones day yet have no actual control in life. Therefore, I take my hate, anger, and sadness inwards gripping the bridge and mentally masturbate to how it would feel to not feel. I beg god to strike me down for being such a terrible person. I wonder how many slaves have found themselves where I am standing. Two wrong turns. We both know that I won't do it and I cease wasting energy on selfish thoughts. My mind reviews the night and the other times when I miss directed us. The chilling wind blows and a fox runs by - the first wild fox I've ever seen. I wish I could tell you about it, I wish I could tell you a lot of things.

The few minutes on the corner eventually turn to over an hour. Dressed for a fetish party I'm wearing a short tight black dress, lingerie, a cat mask, tail butt plug, and all under a light jacket. My feet hurt from being in serious heels all day, my face is covered in remorseful tears, and I'm so very cold. It's a real possibility that I will be here all night and my mind goes back and forth on if its appropriate to call and beg to be relieved. What I did is a serious offense that I would like to fix.1 Apologies don't count for very much in the life of a slave. What you do is how you will be judged and its a treat if your past good deeds make it in. Mind you this isin't a complaint, I spend every morning hoping that I will be able to spend the day successfully serving a Master whom I dedicated my life to and failure is, well failure. Eventually I make the call, between the tears and begging my words are hardly audible. Permission is granted for me to come back to the hotel. Although one step of the punishment is done, I know I've barely begun to suffer. The masochist part of me enjoys this thought while walking through the cold and rainy empty streets of Vienna. The other part of me toys with the idea of what a hug would be like.

Walking down the bridge towards the metro I notice a small shitty honda civic type car driving noticeably slow. The car passes me and eventually pulls over on the side of the road that I am walking on. It's parking lights come on. The obvious guess is that he thinks that I'm a prostitute by the tights and the butt plug sticking out from under my coat. At any rate, I've been a street walker for the last few hours. The man in the car makes sounds and gestures for me to come towards his now open car window. Picking up my pace I stare forward and focus on the metro which is 15 feet from me. Suddenly, I hear whistling and the car door opening. I feel the john's hands brush up against my arm when I start running. It wouldn't be a night that I fucked up if the universe didn't add insult to injury. If only I could trade flight or fight for being able to give directions without panicking.

On the metro platform I hold my head while tears run down my face. A girl comes to talk to me, happy and with so much energy she's practically jumping up and down. I notice her book bag, tennis shoes, warm coat, and map in her hand. She's smiling so wide her red lips almost touch her gold horseshoe earrings. First, she asks me if I'm okay and I stay silent but nod up and down to gesture yes. It'll be okay she says, the sun will rise again tomorrow. This thought makes me cry even harder. I'm envious of how naive she is to the reality of my world. Then she asks me for metro directions. Of course she would be lost asking me for directions here and in this exact moment of time. It's hard not to see the cruel humor in it all. I give her directions and she only runs off after asking me a few times if I'm sure I'll be okay. I wanted to tell her that I hope she'll be okay, I'm not exactly known for my preciseness.

The tears won't stop coming on the metro ride. My brain won't stop cycling regret and pain. Tonight was supposed to be so good and here I sit after fucking it up with a few words. Am I this bad of a person...does being a good or bad person even matter? Turmoil is not being able to make sense of the world. Part of what attracted me to leaving my old life behind was the hope that something would make sense now. I'm guilty of romanticizing BDSM and slavery in thinking that it would solve or fix some parts of me. Quite the opposite happened and faults become exposed. And once exposed, those faults are your reputation until god himself says otherwise.

Despite being overwhelmed with sadness I get off the train at the right stop and make my way down the stairs in order to make the last connection. The timer says 15 minutes until the train gets here so I find a seat on an empty bench to sob. A woman talking on her phone walks down the hallway dressed in traditional Austrian wear. A man sits to my left with large headphones on his head and a couple of four take a seat on my right to discuss their night at the museum. The man with the headphones takes them off of his head and asks me the question of the night. For some reason and in between long gaps of tears I tell him the truth that, no I'm not okay. He looks at me with such kind intelligent eyes and asks me if I'd like to talk about it. The train comes soon after the conversation starts and we continue talking until his stop. Before he gets off he gives me a long hug and tells me not to hesitate... Money can't buy genuine kindness from strangers.

I make it back to the hotel in time for a reunion. Of course you know by now what a joke that is. Punishment is almost always in the plural form. Now the hotel room is my cage and dog food is my dinner. I haven't seen my you in a few days and now have to travel alone to another part of the country where I 'may' be picked up.

  1. The fear of doing the wrong thing (like announcing the wrong direction) becomes a powerful uncontrolled thought in my head that manages to fuck me over again and again. The panic comes quickly and useless thoughts race so fast I lose control over myself. []

Landscape with the fall of Icarus.

September 21st, 2019

landscapewiththefalloficarus4

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus is an illustration of the Greek myth that tells the story of the death of Daedalus's son Icarus.

Daedalus was a brilliant inventor who created a labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur for King Minos of Crete. The next part of the myth is unclear as stories vary. Some say that the two were imprisoned only after Daedalus told, Ariadne, the Princess of Crete the secret of how to escape the labyrinth. In other versions, they were imprisoned long before the route out of the labyrinth was revealed to Ariadne.

In either case, Ariadne passed on the secret of the labyrinth to Theseus and he was able to slay the Minotaur while navigating his way out of the labyrinth thereby enraging King Minos.

King Minos controlled all of the ships and the roads from Crete. Determined to escape with Icarus, Daedalus knew that the only way out of Crete was by using the wind.1 He used feathers from birds that would perch on the tower to craft two pairs of wings that were held together by string and wax. Daedalus instructed his son to not fly to close to the sun as it would melt his wings or to close to the sea for the water would soak his wings and cause him to drown. Daedalus and Icarus launched from the tower thus making a successful escape.

The pair flew high over Crete and passed the surrounding islands. Disregarding his father's warnings Icarus began soaring towards the heavens which melted the wax that held his wings together. Icarus cried out for help as he plummeted towards his death. The wings were dislodged from his body and the boy drowned at sea. Daedalus searched for his missing son and found his body by the feathers that were sprinkled over the ocean. Daedalus buried the body of his son and then named the island where he was buried Icaria.

Daedalus continued on flying and eventually landed in Sicily. It was there that he built a temple to the god Apollo. Daedalus left his wings in Apollo's temple and never flew again.


For years 'Landscape with the fall of Icarus' was credited to famous Pieter Bruegel the Elder, but after it was dispelled that he is in fact not the creator the painting now remains without an accredited artist. The work has been sourced to approximately 1558.

In the center of the painting you can see the plowman steering his plow. Below him on the cliff the Shepard is tending his flock while gazing into the distance. In the bottom right it looks as though the fisherman just cast a line into the water. Ships are sailing from the city's harbor. No one within the painting pays any mind to Icarus as he meets his death by drowning. That's because we're all not as important as we think we are. We make massive mistakes, we ruin relationships, and we die. Mistakes and missteps are eventually forgotten and we all move on towards the inevitable end of our life wherein we have to be accountable for only ourselves.

  1. Daedalus hated Crete
    And his long exile there, but the sea held him.
    “Though Minos blocks escape by land or water,”
    Daedalus said, “surely the sky is open,
    And that’s the way we’ll go. Minos’ dominion
    Does not include the air.” - Translation from Ovid's Metamorphoses []

Philosophical Transactions. For the months of April, May and June, 1714 - Part V.

September 7th, 2019

V. An account, or history, of the procuring the small pox by incision, or inoculation; as it has for some time been practised at Constantinople.

Being the extract of a letter from Emanuel Timonius, Oxon & Patav M.D. S.R.S. dated at Constantinople, December, 1713.

Communicated to the Royal Society by John Woodward, M.D. Prosef. Med. Gresh and S.R.S.1

The writer of this ingenious discourse observes, in the first place, that the Circassians, Georgians, and other Asiaticks, have introduc'd this practice of procuring the small-pox by a sort of inoculation, for about the space of forty years, among the Turks and others at Constantinople.

That altho' at first the more prudent were very cautious in the use of this practice; yet the happy success it has been found to have in thousands of subjects for these eight years past, has now put it out of all suspicion and doubt; since the operation having been perform'd on persons of all ages, sexes, and different temperaments, and even in the worst constitution of the air, yet none have been found to die of the small-pox; when at the same time it was very mortal when it seized the patient the common way, of which half the affected dy'd. This he attests upon his own observation.

Next he observes, they that have this inoculation practiced upon them, are subject to very slight symptoms, some being scarce sensible they are ill or sick; and what is valued by the fair, it never leaves any scars or pits in the face.

The method of operation is thus. Choice being made of a proper contagion, the matter of the pustules is to be communicated to the person proposed to take the infection; whence it has, metaphorically, the name of the insition or inoculation. For this purpose they make choice of some boy, or young lad, of a sound healthy temperament, that is seized with the common small-pox (of the distinct, not flux sort) on the twelfth or thirteenth day from the beginning of his sickness; they with a needle prick the tubercles (chiefly those on the shins and hams) and press out the matter coming from them into some convenient to wash and clean the vessel first with warm water; a convenient quantity of this matter being thus collected, is to be stop'd close, and kept warm in the bosom of the person that carries it, and, as soon as may be, brought to the place of the expecting future patient.

The patient therefore being in a warm chamber, the operator is to make several little wounds with a needle, in one, or two or more places of the skin, till some drops of blood follow and immediately drop out some drops of the matter in the glass, and mix it well with the blood issuing out; one drop of the matter is sufficient for each place prick'd. These punctures are made indifferently in any of the fleshy parts, but succeed best in the muscles of the arm or radius. The needle is to be a three-edg'd surgeon's needle; it may likewise be perform'd with a lancet; the custom is to run the needle transverse, and rip up the skin a little, that there may be a convenient dividing of the part, and the mixing of the matter with the blood more easily perform'd; which is done, either with a blunt stile, or an ear-picker; the wound is cover'd with half a walnut-shell, or the like concave vessel, and bound over, that the matter be not rub'd off by the garments; which is all removed in a few hours. The patient is to take care of his diet. In this place the custom is to abstain wholly from flesh and broath for 20 or 25 days.

This operation is perform'd, either in the beginning of the winter, or in the spring.

Some, for caution, order the matter to be brought from the sick by a third person, lest any infection should be convey'd by the cloaths of the operator; but this is not material.

As to the process of this matter, in respect of the idiosyncrasie; the small-pox begins to appear sooner in some than in others, in some with greater, in others with lesser symptoms; but with happy success in all. In this place the efflorescence commonly begins at the end of the seventh day, which seems to favour the doctrin of crises.

It was observ'd, in a year when the common small-pox was very mortal, that those by incision were also attended with greater symptoms. Of 50 persons, who had the incision made upon them almost in the same day, four were found in whome the eruption was too sudden, the tubercles more, and the symptoms worse. There was some suspicion, that these four had caught the common small pox before the incision was made. It is enough for our present purpose, that there was not one but recovered after the incision; in those four the small-pox came near the confluent sort. At other times the inoculated are distinct, few and scatter'd; commonly 10 or 20 break out; here and there one has but 2 or 3, few have 100; there are some in whom no pustule rises, but in the places where the incision was made, which swell up into purulent tubercles; yet these have never had the small-pox afterwards in their whole lives; tho' they have cohabited with persons having it.

It is to be noted, that a no small quantity of matter runs for several days, from the place of the incision.

The pocks arising from this operation are dry'd up in a short time, and fall off, partly in thin skins, and partly contrary to the common sort, vanish by an insensible wasting.

The matter is hardly a thick pus, as in the common, but a thinner kind of sanies; whence they rarely pit, except at the place of the incision, where the cicatrices left are not to be worn out by time, and whose matter comes near the nature of pus.

If an aposteme breaks out in any (which infants are most subject to) yet there is nothing to be fear'd, for it is safely heal'd by suppuration. If any other symptom happens, 'tis easily cur'd by the common remedies.

Observe, they scarce ever make use of the matter of the incisious pox for a new incision. If this inoculation be made on persons who have before had the small pox, they find no alteration and the places prick'd presently dry up; except in an ill habit of the body, where possiby a slight inflammation and exulceration may happen for a few days.

To this time, he says, I have known but one boy, on whom the operation was perform'd, and yet he had not the small-pox, but without any mischief; and some months after catching the common sort, he did very well, it is to be observ'd, that the places of the incision did not swell. I suspect this child prevented the insertion of the matter, for he strugled very much under the operation, and there wanted help to hold him still. The matter to be inserted will keep in the glass very well for 12 hours. He goes on.

I have never observ'd any mischievous accident from this incision hitherto; and altho' such reports have been sometimes spread among the vulgar, yet having gone on purpose to the houses whence such rumors have arisen, I have found the whole to be absolutely false.

It is now eight years since I have been an eye-witness of these operations; and to give a greater proof of the sedulity I have used in this disquisition, I shall relate two histories.

There was, in a certain family, a boy of 3 years old, afflicted with the falling-sickness, the king's-evil, an hereditary pox, and a long marasmus. The parents were desirous to have the incision made upon him; the small-pox were thrown off with ease; about the 40th day he dy'd of this marasine. In another family, a girl of 3 years old, troubled with the like fits, strumous, attended with hereditary lues, and labouring under a colliquative loosness for three months. The operation was peform'd on this child; she came off very well of the small-pox, which was all over the 15th day; on the 32d she dy'd of her loosness, which had never left her the whole time.

But it is true, I never maintain'd the inoculation as a panacea, or cure for all diseases; nor do I think it proper to be attempted on persons like to die. Some more quicksighted, imagin'd these two children were, as useless shades sent to Charon by any means that could be made use of. If I could have collected any more concerning this matter, I should have imparted it candidly.

The rest of Dr. Timone's letter contains his reasons for this method of practice; which being the Ætiological part, is publish'd in his own words, as follows.

Ætiologia.

Contagium variolarum per puris insusuionem propagari haud cguidam mirabitar qui aesulapii templum vel d primo limine salutavit, & fermentationis doctrinam subodoraius est; nex obscurior est infitionis modus, qudm panificium, aut ars cerevisiaria, obsurior est infitionis modus, qudm panificium, aut ars cerevisiaria, in qurbus ex admixto fermento massa fermentanda turgescunt; conciliato nimirum mota intestino minimarum particularum principiis active pollentium. si quis quarit interium cur variola periculosa alioquin & persape lethales, ex insitione sine ullo periculo excludantur. dico; variola communes vel concurrente prava aliqua speciali aeris diathesi suscitantur, vel ab essuviis a varioloso corpore emanatious per contagium propagantur. primus casus in paucis individuis accidit, & concurrente quidem vel insigni cacochymia, vel saltem variolos seminii in talibus individuis latitantis acerrima exaltatione; secundus casus communissimus est. In primo casu miasma malignum aereum, in secundo virulenta contagii corpuscula indolis (probabiliter) salino-sulphurca sed specificam fracedinem seu ranciditatem nacta statim ac per respirationem hauriuntur spiritus ipsos, & labe quidem teterrima inficiunt; subsequenter auiem massam sanguineam & lympham vitiarimanifestum est; Spiritus statim infici rationi consentaneum est, tum quia in fontes spirituum, cor scilicet & cerebrum, statim ingressum habent virulentem aporria, tum ratione analogismi inter miasmata & effluvia ista ipsosque spiritus, cum utraque spiritutuoso-aerea textura sint. Deducitur etiam cita & prava spirituum infectio á tot tantisque norvosi systematis symptomatibusque, qua malas plermque comitantur variolas, & pracipué á convulsionibus epilepticis qua infantibus accidunt ipso momento, quo varioloso inficiuntur contagio multo antequam febris illos corripiat. Massam autem sanguineam inquinari prater febrem purulenta tuberculorum exclusio testatur. Lympha veró vitiata fidem faciunt glandularnm in faucibus tumor, screatus, & enormis multoties ptyalismus. Inter bac circularis etiam sequitur noxa. Sed pracipué sanguinis particula ab indebita spiritnum irradiatione in plures ataxias & anomalias perducuntur. Duobus tamen potissplures ataxias & anomalias perducuntur. Duobus tamen potissmum modis in variolis communibus mortem contingere observavi.

Primus est quando paucis erumpentibus variolis, & tardé ad maturitatem procedentibus, mas alia oboriuntur symptomata; secuudus quando nimia tuberculorum copia cadaverosam putredinem inducit. In primo casu maligna vulgo dicuntur variola; causa autem est vel nimia fusio & dissolutio massasanguinea, val ejusdem coagulatio & grumescentia. Si enim impetus spirituum explosivus justo plus augeatur, particula massa sanguinea nimium ad invicem atteruntur, comminuuntur, & tenuissimas nancisuntur acrotitas; sanguis in boc statu sollertis nature mechanismum eludit, cumque nil fœculentioris in glandulis secretoriis cribrisque deponat, œconomia animalis functionibus requisitas filtrationes & transcolationes celebrari baud patirur; improportionata eternim est figura particularum liquidi ad configurationem pororum in tuhulis & colaioriis rations fuhtilitatis nimia filtratione enim defacarentur particula sanguinis si naturalem servarent schcmatismum & molem; hinc dicitur pepsim fieri per incrassationem. Prater hoc cslritas ipsa transius sanguinis in causa est ut nihil deponatur in colatcriis. Torrens ubi nimio impetu & pracipiti cursu fertur aquas iurbidas desacari haud patitur; quia vis centripeta gravitatem admixti terrei sequeus superaturá fortiorum pulsoria virtute aquororum globulorum rapide reenitum; virsus enim fortis, vcrbi gratia, ut unum non poterit lineam perpendicularem describere ubi cirtus fortis ut duo ad lineam horizontaem potrudit sic etiam haud pluit vent o flante intensissimo; eadem geometrica proportione (probabiliter loqundo) sanginis particula aucto ab effranibus spirilus motu, tubulos colitorios preterfluunt nullâ factâ facum depositione. Hac probabilia fiunt á summa pulsûs celeritate, febre intensissima, sudore nullo, & urina cruda. E contra quandoque contingit ut ab acutis, & scindentibus deleterii fermenti particulis frangatur, corrodatur, vel saltem relaxetur elater spirituum; elanguscente igitur spirituum motu torpidiores etiam hebetioresque siunt sanguinis lymphaque particula; igitur dum in labyrinthais tubulorum anfractibus moram indebitam contrabunt alias turmatim invicem complicari, alias autem, congestione factâ, super alias incidere, & diverso ad invicem superficierum suarum contactud naturali configuratione desciscere, & novias induere angulorum dimensiones necesse est. Sic igitur diversa ab illa, quam superius narraviumus, sigerarum ad tubulorum meatus improportione, paritamen calamitatis eventu dadalea natura machinationes irritas fieri contingit. Hac probabilia fiunt á pulsu tardo & raro ac debris carentia quandoque in summa malignitate observatis, paucis & tardé erumpentibus voriolarum pustulis. Ulterius é trepidatoria, su sulsultoria ac tumultuosa furentium spirituum irradiatione inaqualis eodem tempore in diversis partibus masse sanguinea, & arteriarum etiam venarumque contingere potest impulsus. Sive igitur fibrilla alique (ul quidem volunt) reperiantur in sunguine, scu sbili nondum bene assimilati sint portiones usibus peculiaribus dicata; probabiliter istarum motum turbari contingit; bas enim in circulatorio motu secundum longitudinem suam naturaliter moveri necesse est; ab inaquali autem pressione dicta rectilineam siquram perdere, & in spiras ac semicirculos crispari coguntur; bas igitur sic contortas transversaliter postmodum in circulatione raptari, ad invicem implicatas convolvi, &, ramosis schematibus obortis, racematim adeo conglobari necesse est, ut in majusculos tandem grumos coalescant, sive demum fibrilla illa non dentu, certé cujuscumque figura sint massa sanguinea particule, illas á naturali desciscere situatione ex hac motûs inaqualitate contingit; confusa igitur particula ista & ad invicem implicata statim vehiculi sui, seri scilicet globulis per expressionem á suo contubernio explosis, majorem, ratione molis aucta gravitatem nanciscuntur, ideoque impulsiva circulatoria facultatis vim superant; has igitur hîc illic resitare ac stagnare necesse est, prout in hoc velillo loco prima mutua cohasio forte contigerit; hinc livida stigmata, & simul (quod sape observavi in variolis cum petechiis erumpentibus) frequens sequitur mictus, quo limpidissimum serum in magna copia excluditur. En fusio, & coagulatio. Hinc mimmnon est car moriantur aliqui in variolis cum petechiis, convulsionibus syncope, vigiliis nimiis, emorrhegiis, delirio, vomitibus, enormibus, dysenteriis, &c. quamvis haud multa pustularum putrilagine persundantur; in stygium enim veluti characterismum variolarum fermentum multoties evehitur, ita ut quamvis haud magnam crasss puris copiam progignere mala modis vel explicatis vel aliis consimilibus communicare possit, sicque mortem inferre; & hoc ante undecimum plerumque. Veniamurs nunc ad secundum modum. Diversaenim aliquando contingit pernicies & longé alterius generis tragœdia; quamvis enim absint illa symptomata, nimia tamen puris, materia scilicet cadaverisata, copia corpus obruniturpus autem generari probabile est quando sulphureis oleosisque massa sanguinea particulis in fracedine & fusione constitutis acido-salinaram particularum coaffusio contingit. Huic asserto facem accdendunt innumera chymica experimenta quibus manifesté edocemur solutionibus pinguium sulphureorum per alkalia factis acido quolibet coaffuso statim massam albicantis coloris emergere. Multoties igitur miasma seu fermentum variolarum per respirationem haustum ratione indolis propria acerrime & fortassis septica tales in massam sanguineam particularum acido-salinarum & oleoso-sulphurearum producere potest combinationes, ut non seminia solum variolarum, qua omnibus individuis (mole tamen minima) á nativitate indita sunt, agitentr, actuentur, & in purulentam abeant putrilaginem, sed massa, ipsa sanguinea tota acorem contrabat, & motu quodam corruptorio putrescat & cadaverisetur. Sic igitur, incendio veluti coborto, ulterius furere fermentescentes particulas contingit, quam variolosis seminiis per despumitonem eliminandis opus sit; hic motus non est depuratorius heterogeneis secernendis inserviens, sed destructivus & corruptoris, fermento nempe massam totam superante & invertente; fracidis scilicet rebellibusque particulis victoria potitis, & omnes alias in sua castra migrare cogentibus. Hoc manifeste observamus in variis potulentis, in quibus fermentatione aliquando excitatá, motus succedit corruptivus liquores totaliter vitians; hinc videmus aliquos quamvis suprarecensitis symptomatibus immunes, immenso tamen, ut ita dicam, putredinis oceano suffocatos; et hoe periculum usque ad vig simum secundum protrabitar. Ultimo loco considerandum solida etiam & nobiliores partes in hisce casibus pessimé affici, & in spasmos inordinatos fieri; variis horum distortionibus tubulorum meatus vitiari, at functionum munera depravari necesse est; ecce igitur continentia, contenta, & impetum facientia, quorum triamviratu bumani corporis respublica regitur, una eademque ruina ut plurimum involuta; mirabiturne quispiammalorum indea iliadem in hominis perniciem pullulare? Observandum ulterius multis, qui peste laboraverint, eommunibus variolis etiam post annum correptis bubones eosdem intumunisse, qui antea in peste eruperant; nonne hoc etiam summam malignitatem testatur. Insitionem modo ad rationis trutinam revocemus. At hercule longe aliter in hoc contagionis modo rem procedere quis est qui non fateatur? Orimum enim spiritus nullatenus infici manifestum est; deinde non lympha, non sanguini labes illa teterrima inuritur, non solidis vitium aliquod communieator. Hinc symptomata omnia levia, nulla pessima, nulli infantibus epileptici insultus. Contagionis enim hujusce fermentum non spiritale, non aereum & acutum est, sed humorale, iners, ac pigrum; venena autem quo subtiliora eo pejora; ratione igitar improportionis nulla inter fermentum hoc & spiritus esse poterit lucta. Pus equidem variolarum in ipsa substantia sanguini immediaté infusum statim in largum veluti pelagus exceptum diluitur, involvitur, absorbetur, obtunditur; sic illud mitescit, sic in mansuetiorem indolem cicuratur. Contagiosa ista particula sanguinem ingressa statim sibi congeneres variolosi seminii particulas sanguini à nativitate inditas inveniunt; iis igitur confermentescunt, sed invicem combinata ac complexa baud amplius sui juris sunt ut ulteriores excitent turbas, regiam vita petant, spirituum thesauros diripiant; nammutuis compedibus constricta fixantur, pracipitantur, crassioresque & hebetiores fiunt, quam antea fuerint. Statim igitur volubilioribus aquearum particularum globulis tamquam aptis vehiculis superincambentes, sanguinis motu à cetro ad peripheriam tendente, secundo veluti amne, ad ambitum corporis protruduntur, eliminantur. Nonne manifestè videmus haud pus generari in insititiis variolis, sed saniosam, dilutiorem videlicet aqueamque in insititiis variolis, sed saniosam, dilutiorem videlicet aqueamque magis materiam? Nonne ex hoc phanomeno palam est acido-salinas fermenti contagiosi particulas haud oleosas passim sanguinis particulas in cadaverosam purulentiam pervertere, sed blandioribus potius lavioribusque aqueis particulis easdem dilutas & saturatas foras asportari? Ex negatione fovearum & cicatricum nonne manifestum est acres, aculeatas, pungentes & corresivas salini fermenti particulas à balsamicis statim sanguinis globulis obtundi, spiculis suis orbari, & hebetiori figura modificatas, vi veluti mochlica, extra propellia? Integra interim servatur massa sanguinea textura, inviolata consistentia. Nullam hiî vides fusionem, nullam grumescentiam, nullum solummodo sanguis fermentescit, quantum impuro à puri consortio separando, ac per despumationem extrudendo satis est. In hoc fermentationis motu solum per undulationem quandam leviter aliquando afficiuntur spiritus, lympha, & solida partes, & figua ad ista contagii particula perveniunt, certè (quod insitionis adumbrat metaphora) non nisi sylvestri acrimonia privata, ac veluti dulcificata pervenire possunt. Hac tenuitatis mea satis conscius haud praficta fronte obtrudo; non me latet longè meliora emanatura ab illis, queis meliore luto finxit pracoria titan; in historica tamen insitionis hujusce narratione aliquatenus me bene meritum spero.

Censtantinopoli, Anno 1713.
Mense Decembre.

Emanuel Timonius, Constantinopolitanus. In Universitatibus Oxoniensi & patavina Philosophiæ & Medicinæ Doctor.

A pdf version of the entire text of the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London can be found here (this article begins on page 72).


  1. Titled in the contents page as follows, A letter from Emanuel Timone, Philos. & Med. D. in Univers. Oxon. & Patav. S.R.S. containing the method of inoculating the small pox; practis'd with success at Constantinople, &c. []

The maid.

August 24th, 2019

While sitting naked at the kitchen table in their hotel suite she shudders knowing that she heard him correctly.

"It's fine, the maid can come in."

She cast her eyes down at the plate on the table in front of her as a few second excuse to not make eye contact.

Quickly she succumbs to the fact that she wouldn't be allowed any clothes. Still, she searches for something to say that would save her some humiliation but also not land her in actual trouble. Punishment is heavy for attempts at negotiation and hardship is ideal to being in trouble.

Instantly, she becomes aware of the room's temperature and her body betrays her with gifts of hard nipples and goose bumps. She owns nothing in this world which includes her body, and her body will gladly help in her exposure for its Master. She has a lot of these 'out of body' experiences where her mind may hesitate, but she physically moves forward in the direction of what would be perceived as her opposite interest. In fact, the last time that this occurred was she was kicked out of the car in the rain forest and immediately walked into bushes of tropical nettle. For added humiliation, she often won't even realize that she's wet until her cunt is leaking down her legs. This time on the hotel chair is not any different or at all significant to the people in the room. Despite knowing this she is still visibly bothered but says nothing. Both time and experience have shown that this will be a fond memory, so why ruin it?

Even so... she loses her appetite and the salmon that looked so good a moment ago becomes cold. Master encourages her to eat and his other slave kindly offers to make her more comfortable by undressing too. Nudity is mandatory in her Master's home and she's been naked in front of a countless amount of people, both online and in person within multiple countries. Actually, when they met for the first time he had her remove her dress in the parking lot of the airport. So why did this time bother her so intensely? Her Master noticing her nerves asks her as much. After all, his pleasure is paramount and she is obeying the command. Conflicted and unable to come up with an answer she mumbles an 'I don't know'. On cue the maid turns on the vacuum and he laughs at the anxious slave girl jumping naked in her seat. Her shoulders hunch down in an attempt for her to look as small as she feels. Has clothing always connoted power and she just never cared?

He moves them out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. In doing so, she navigates around the maid and they make eye contact with one another. She blushes while noticing that the suite door is open, and therefore exposing her naked body to the rest of the hotel.

As instructed she gets into his bed on all fours with her face down-ass up. Flustered and sweating she listens to the characteristically calming sounds of him playing with his other girl and remembers her training to breath. She stays completely still in an effort to become dehumanized and solely an ass. He asks for the hairbrush and her stomach drops, now knowing that the maid's show is just starting. Indistinguishable cries resonate from the pillow matching the twitching protest her body is performing. The pain from the hairbrush is hard, abrupt, stingy, and lingers. He has been kind enough to beat her with an array of objects, and yet somehow this implement is one of the hardest to take. Panic intensifies due to her intense desire to perform well in front of housekeeping. One thump cracks down on her ass and she squirms buckling her knees in poor form. This is displeasing and he swings again, but harder which makes her scream out when the brush cracks against her skin. Racing inside she tries to lean into the pain and focus less on the sounds of the room being cleaned...then he hits her ass again. The ever desperate whining sounds leave her mouth in the form of 'pleases' and 'it hurts'. The intolerable noise she makes is met with a threat to have the maid take part in her beating if she continues.

What if the maid did help punish her? She would certainly deserve it. Maybe in the cleaning cart and underneath the stack of fresh towels there is a compartment with painful whipping elements to leave out in rooms. Necessarily if she were good at punishing bad girls then her Master would also want to sexually exploit the useful cleaning girl. Would the slave then have to finish cleaning the hotel rooms with a bruised ass while her Master has a threesome? She'd better clean the rooms naked and if it pleased him then shouldn't she beg for this arrangement for the rest of their stay?

A final hard blow breaks her stream of horny thoughts. By the time her ass is red and sore the cleaning is done and it's the three of them once again. The intensity of laying in his arms and looking into his eyes after a humiliating beating overwhelms her with adoration. After a moment of laying with him he sends her off to the store for groceries. Gleefully she walks out of the hotel room rubbing her tender ass and still in a daze. Looking up and down the long hallway she decides to use the stairwell...in order to avoid the maid.

Bet your pierogies I'm Polish!

August 12th, 2019

But first, I went to Minsk and the only pictures I took are of cats and the library.

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I took a solo trip to the National Library of Belarus, thinking that I would get a good view from the city on the top level of that monstrosity. After purchasing a day pass library card and wondering around the few rows of book shelves that they have, I began to wonder how exactly one gets on top of the rhombicuboctahedron, spoiler - not from the library. I found this out by questioning the librarians who, angrily directed me towards the exit. The exit, which was heavily secured by a guard who yanked my library card from me. So, it turns out that the library only exists on the first few floors and the rest of the building (including the observation deck and restaurant) is separate. Well played, Minsk.

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Hannah humored me by going with me to the Minsk Cat Museum, despite the smell of litter boxes six floors down from the entrance. We were worried the "museum" was going to be an old women charging an entrance fee to see her collection of 20 cats. Well, it's not a museum by any definition of the word, but its also not someone's house. The people who run it seem to take good care of the cats and its better than a shelter; however, it smelled acidic and the decoration was appalling. You have your choice between playing with cats in either a fully committed cat lady like room (complete with dusty unmatched furniture), or for some reason a harry potter themed room. Who am I to judge, maybe this is where the great harry potter fan fiction writers of the world gather for inspurration.

I armed this little guy in honor of Ignatius Reilly.

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The internets always favorite - catinabox. Not sure where they dug up the reading material or cat jenga game.

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This was the view from inside the museum and pussible exhibit.

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Sup cat? I like your paws.

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Oh right, this is the last picture I took in Minsk - he likes the cok.

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On to Poland!1

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I asked our first cab driver about the building below, he responded - "a gift from Stalin, do I need to say more?"

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Kościół Świętego Krzyża or Holy Cross Church.
Sursum Corda - lift up your hearts.

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The interior is less ornate then I've seen in most European churches. Throughout history this church has been bombed to shit and seen a handful of uprisings. I attempted to get a picture of the alter but a no picture rule is enforced.

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Check out the sweet side car action. If I had a side car, I would keep a goose inside of it and then have a smaller side car for his bread storage.

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I always imagined Europe would look like a fairy tale, but I never thought I would be living in one. Cringe over.

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The long awaited for ice cream. Ice cream...which I would later come to regret.2

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I was exploring by myself one day and ended up at the Warsaw Insurgents Cemetery. The park is beautiful to walk through, but I may be a little bias after finding my family name on one of the pillars. See, I told you I'm Polish. My last name isint at all common in the states, and outside of my immediate family of seven people, I never met another Cichocki.3

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The monument is named the Fallen Unconquerable, and buried underneath are ashes from the victims of the Warsaw Uprising.

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View from the back.

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The next three pictures are from the Hala Mirowska market. I trust people who understand how to please my ocd with appropriately stacked eggs.

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A teapot fit for a bear!

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So, this is Warsaw's "fast train". I boarded it thinking that it was similar to a bullet train in Japan - see I'm even holding on. It's not though. The train is quicker than a buss and slower then the metro.

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boo

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Serious cat doing serious cat business.

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La Playa music bar in Warsaw. The only reason I'm leaving this shitty picture in the post, is so that I can remember the time that Master ordered me to grab this waitress and bring her over. So, I dragged her by her arm to our table, while explaining that we've been waiting and needed service. Master started listing drinks and then she abruptly blurted out, "I don't work here" (suspicious though, she was wearing the clubs tshirt and I saw her carrying a tray)...

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Me touching the king. Check out the dumb instagram bitch angle I got going.

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The E.Wedel Chocolate Lounge.

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I didn't think she could get any cuter, then she got a tiny hat!

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Pictures of people taking pictures.

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Recently, I've been asked "what happened to the bad ass Nicole I knew" - well here I am! Sitting on a cigar smoking bear. Where the hell are you?

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I love Poland.

  1. The pictures in this post are not in chronological order, so if that bothers you then suck it because this is bimbo.club. []
  2. Master, gave us the option between cake in a cafe or ice cream. We choose ice cream of poorer quality than we're used to. The quality was unbeknownst to us at the time of choosing and our choice was not quickly forgotten. Tough decisions out here. []
  3. My brothers and I have a long standing joke that when someone in our family does something stupid its because they have a case of the Cichockidous. I hope that the Cichockis on the pillar would be able to appreciate the joke. []

Checking in

July 28th, 2019

I'm alive and well.1

Well, I think good as I can be after being enslaved for almost an entire year. To be completely honest, anyone who tells you this lifestyle is easy, isin't really doing it. Everything I thought I knew about the world (including "who I was") has been smashed and I'm looking forward to seeing what survives the breakage, if anything. I live(d) by the policy that anything worth doing is hard, and on my worst days that thought pushes me to walk through the fire to be a better slave and person.2

It's of course not all bad, nothing ever is! In the spirit of never taking myself too seriously, below are pictures of me hugging things from all over the world.

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Ice cream cone in Kiev! I'm not allowed really allowed to eat ice cream3, which is hard because its my favorite. Master stopped at this great ice cream shop in Budapest and got two cones for him and Hannah. I walked next to them, watching while they stopped on almost every corner to snowball each others ice cream and moan about how good it was. Eventually, we circled the block and made it back to the ice cream store where Master kindly got me a cone. We walked out of the store and I got one lick in before this woman was chasing after us with his hat that I forgot in the store. I looked at the hat, then looked at my ice cream, then up at Master and I knew. I handed over the cone and he handed it to the trash can.

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Lions in Warsaw! It's been a life long dream of mine to visit my brethren in Poland and it did not disappoint. My brothers and I would watch Rick Steve's Europe - Poland and make fun of our people. I cannot wait to go back, kind of shitty that I got a ticket for incorrectly using the metro but what a souvenir. Also, we finally found a good club.

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Giant Bear in Minsk! Really not sure what the fuck is going on with the clubs in Minsk - the most advertised and supposed hottest club had a giant dirty stuffed bear in it. I was wearing a tail butt plug and the bouncer chased me in a circle trying to touch it. Also, the women's bathroom consisted of just a hole in the ground (because peeing with a butt plug and stockings is too easy). The adventure continues!

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Ignác Darányi in Budapest! True, I'm not hugging him but the sentiment is there.4

That's all for now. Try to be good to each other.

  1. Sorry to disappoint everyone who thinks that I'm being held against my will in a cult. Now that I've addressed it, you'll have to find some other drama to entertain yourselves with. Or maybe this is being written by a robot composed of pale parts... []
  2. There is no such thing as a clean getaway. []
  3. Or any type of dairy. If you're like me and plagued with acne, then might I suggest no longer eating dairy or sweets. It's difficult to do (especially if no one is behind you with a whip), but eliminating those items from my diet has really cleared up my skin. []
  4. Liosh the waiter is also nearby and ready to judge you. []

Bear

July 23rd, 2019

Deep in the rain forest, below the canopy of trees, and past any human exploration, a wooden hut sits. From the outside, the hut looks like a puzzle a child smashed together. The logs composing the cabin are from different species of trees and none of the sides are even. The hut has four tall walls, making one large room with a fireplace opposite from the door. Three of the four walls have shelves from floor to ceiling, each shelf varying in both size and depth. Sitting the shelves are books, trunks, vases, jars, and pitchers. Most of the vessels are intact, but with a brown residue on the side. While the day passes, various tropical birds have come to perch on what would be the windows. The windows look like they are holes plied from the walls as an after thought, being without glass and uniform. A dug out ditch sits behind the structure, filling with rainwater that pours from the Costa Rican clouds.

Suddenly, the ground starts shaking which causes the birds to become excited, they each sing their unique song, making a kind of paradise choir. A happy six foot brown bear swings open the door, drops down his satchels of cocoa and coffee beans, which causes the top of layer of the days find to fall out and hit the ground hard. He ignores the beans bouncing on the floor like pebbles, and runs to greets the brightly colored birds that make up his window sill. His golden highlights shine in the sun against his brown fur, he slips off the dirty wet leaves that cover his paws, and then the straw hat. It's not just chocolate and coffee beans that he has, but containers full of berries, mushrooms, fruit, and seeds. He knows what each flock likes and passes out the food accordingly. While they peck on their snack, he opens a trunk and has a paw full of melted chocolate. After a long day for the bear, it's quite a happy scene in the bottom of the rain forest.

While they feast, the discussion turns towards new food that the birds have scouted. The bear takes out a book made out of dried leaves and tube of mud that acts a pencil to map out where he can next scavenge. The birds land on his soft and wide shoulders to comment, "more to the left, straight from there, swim through that opening, be careful its high there." They scout the places for food and he scavenges to bring them back the good stuff. Since he is bigger than almost any of the animals that make up this part of the jungle, he can try various foods without getting dying. It's only been the case that a few times he got so sick that he couldn't leave the hut. Once because he ate a type of mushroom that made him ill, and unable to get back home. He spent a few days passed out next to a waterfall that sprayed his face while he lay covered in his own vomit. The other time was when he first discovered coffee beans. He spent the afternoon eating every bean he could find, and spent the next three days moaning at home, unable to move. The moaning was so loud that the monkeys eventually sent a few guys rub his belly.

The process of him trying new food as a guinea bear has created a trade economy within the lower layers of the forest. When the monkeys came to tend to his sickness, they introduced the bear to mapping with mud. He can climb banana trees just as good as them, but can carry three times the load on his back. The alligators helped him with his trench foot by teaching him how to make shoes out of leaves, and in turn they get more variance in their diet. The scariest and smallest of creatures have all come to the bear in need of help.

There are times when the animals come and he hasn't been home for days. During these times, the jungle is filled with search parties. He's always found, snoring and passed out alone in a cave, on a tree, or on a dirt bed, and once on the edge of a cliff. When he awakes, he has no memory of falling asleep or even being tired. In fact, he never feels tired but involuntarily slumbers. The bear wished this didn't happen to him, but nor he or anyone else knows another bear or how to get another one. In fact, no one even knows how he got to the jungle in the first place....

The adventure of Goosey boy.

June 13th, 2019

Once upon a time, a good goose named Goosey left his home in Germany to meet someone who could tell him how make golden eggs.

You see, he finished his bread before the end of Aesop's ill fated fable.

His first stop was a Hungarian shop, and with no such luck he continued on in search of his golden treasure.

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Goosey made good friends who had stale bread and promised to help him along the way.

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The locals laughed when they were asked about knowing of any such golden eggs.
"Budapest really isin't the place for your silly fabled eggs."

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He was a sad goose when he returned home with his friends. They told him not to lose hope for Easter was close, and the flat Easter bunny would know where to find the best eggs.

At long last, he found a treasured egg rainbow...but something wasn't quite right. The eggs cracked and just like that he was back to his grand adventure.

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Lovage croaked that everyone knows that Belgrade had the best geese. Surely there he should gander to find the golden prize.

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A melancholy Goosey searched in Serbia without finding a way. He vowed to forget his quest and never mind these stupid eggs.

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A most perfect wooden egg lay in wait for him at home! Goosey fell in love at first sight, and now he sits and holds his egg without any thought to a better day.

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