A Sonnet About What’s On It
To have your own justice is best of all,
No juries, or judges, lawyers, or courts
Service of process, or actions in torts,
Just you and your buddies dressed for a ball.
^^^
Astride a field looms a man with a book
Condemning the clowns, upbraiding the fools.
“You set the rituals, you set the rules,”
He roars, as he terrifies with his look.
^^^
The brothers, though fearful, heed his advice:
To dispatch the guilty by fire or knife
And eat up the soul, that they may have life
Extinguishing the debt through sacrifice.
^^^
The man leaves the plain, says, “Okay, for now,
“But when I’m here next, you’ll do more than bow.”
PROLOGUE
“… and, if you let me get a word in edgewise, if that isn’t bad enough, we’re standing in a field in the middle of Kansas in winter, with snow up to our knees. So, Half-fuckin’-Guinea, you had better tell me the truth. Why did you drag The Hunched Cornish out here? Briskly, now, or I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig and use your spine for a toothpick.”
“Take it easy, Hunch-ball. You didn’t have to go.”
“You said I’d find answers, on how I could finally get home. And then die, roiling in my torments. And as much as I could devoutly wish nothing better for myself, nothing sweeter – this place, Guinea?!”
“Why not, Hunchie? This place is as good as any other. And like I said –”
“And you brought us in through The Commix. I fuckin’ hate that. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything using The Commix before. But you absolutely insisted on it. Why couldn’t we take The Checkout. That’s where we are. That’s where we belong. We were already right there in the damn kitchen! But you said we had to step down.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. But I can get more done this way. I don’t like it any more ‘n’ you do, but it’s just a fact.”
“And what was so important here, Guinea? A black chick?”
“Well, there is one, working in a kitchen, in a diner, as a short-order cook, formerly unemployed, heh, but, eeehh… actually, Hunchie, I wanted to catch up on a couple of characters I’ve, ah, interfaced with, back in Kyiv. And if my calculations are correct, they should be meeting up fairly shortly, right there, in that antique furniture restoration shop, but…”
“So, let’s go, then. I’ll hide behind the shed and stay out of the way until you’re done, and then we can pursue my interests, and then maybe I’ll let you go after a while, and just hang out on my own, through The Checkout, though, and, er, check the place out…”
“N-nah, I sort of changed my mind. Not interested. Cold feet, you might say – heh-heh… However, you did mention the diner…”
“Shit, Guinea, I knew that was the reason.”
“Come on, it’s not that far from here. In fact, we saw it on the way in.”
“You mean that excrescence just off the road near that tree line that’d been rammed through by a jet airliner, with a lot of the debris and parts from the crash still lying around?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I’ve checked it out before. You’ll like the ambience. Amazing, no one got kilt in the crash, either. Just a survived heart attack and a broken arm.”
“Hmph… grr… Ambience. Give me a fucking break. What, in a diner? In Kansas? Are we going to see Dorothy and Toto there, too?”
“You’d be surprised. At the very least, The Strawman’s* a distinct possibility.”
“I will agree the no fatalities is kind of amazing. Okay, let’s go. The Hunched Cornish isn’t paying – not that I would, anyway.”
“Hunch-face, that’s why I’m so proud of you. One look at you, and they’ll rush all the food you want out of that kitchen faster than you can order it – for free!”
* The Half Guinea probably means “The Scarecrow”, but we’ll leave it stand, as there may be more significance to it than we suspect – The Kyiv Unedited Secret Editorial Board
THE STORY – already in progress…
“I should sue you for this gash I have on my forehead, Mr. Losser! You’re laughing; you think it’s funny, but what if I’d fallen some other way? I might’ve died!!!”
“Sue me, Zippy? That’s rich, nyarleggi. How so? Did you have to take the break from work I suggested you take, thereby effectively ending your work day and placing all of our subsequent actions together outside the immediate scope of your employment? No, you didn’t. Because you’re a big boy, aren’t you. An adult, in fact. Supposedly a man.”
The baby rhino blinks blankly behind thick, steamed-up glasses.
“And did you then have to accept my offer to you of hot mulled wine and proceed to drink it? No, you didn’t. And furthermore, I would have respected any principled teetotalling position on your part regarding the use of alcohol, but you drained your mug fair quick, hot though it was, and then started on the next no sooner I poured it for you from the thermos. Kind of like a teenager finally getting a chance to get away with something. Why, nyugets, I myself only drank the one.”
“I… I think you drugged me… and… and I can still take you to court…”
“Oh-ho-ho. It is I who could, and probably should sue you, and, come to think of it, I probably will. After all, you shot my gut full of staples. And what if you’d aimed a little higher, Zippy, like at my heart? Or if the staples had gone in further and torn me up inside but good? That’s a breach of duty of care and a tort claim in negligence, if I’ve ever seen one!”
“Ha! You may almost be a lawyer, Mr. Losser, but I happen to know a thing or two about cases like this and what to do with them, spending all the time I did around my father when I was a kid. He didn’t end up becoming a wealthy businessman through incompetence, that I can tell you. I’m your employee. In a case against me, you’d actually have to sue yourself for damages, because of under, ah… ah… respondeat superior!”
“That very well may be. But I can easily get around your flimsy respondeat superior defense by proving gross negligence on your part, nya-a-a…”
“Oh, no you can’t, because for that you have to show intent, if not motive! And there’s no way in the world you can prove that!”
“Ah, I believe the video cameras that you are just now seeing for the first time mounted all around this workshop because I’m pointing them out to you will show a different story.”
“You’re on, Mr. Losser, you’re on! I can use evidence from those video cameras for my case the same as you!”
“You can certainly try… Because for your case, son, the cameras were turned off… That’s right, Zippy. And now that I’m at it, I think adding assault and battery to the charges for my case will be more than appropriate. Hell, why didn’t I think of that before?!”
Ding-a-ling-a-ling… tinkle-winkle-dingle… ding-a-ling-a-ling… go the little welcome bells above the workshop door…
“Heh, sorry I’m late – the 4:58 came in at 4:59…”
“Oh, no, no, my friend, you’re perfectly fine, and all on time, nyug-nyaaa…”
“Yeah, heh, yeah, that’s good…”
“Zippy, I’d like you to meet Ference. Eh, Ference Romchuk, to be exact. This is going to be your new apprentice, and you are to start teaching him the craft of the trade immediately! Well, that’s it for me. Task Number 3 complete!”
Welsh Losser leaves without giving Zippy Zamazda a chance to say anything, either against or for…
^^^
Now that we’ve gotten this far – definitely and doubtlessly to be continued.
Exquisite Reader, please turn the Internet page of this story to Part 2… And pay no attention to the crotchety Union Joker, who refuses to write a Story Notice to that part. He’s a loser.
You’ll be able to identify it by its title, “The One-Minute-Late Four Fifty-Eight… Part 2/2”.
I’ve done as much as I can. The rest is up to You!
Filed by One Who Shall Remain Unknown, March 7, 2026