
The amused hippy clan was sweating and moving and stacking as they continued to build this concrete block Igloo of Death around me. The only consolation I had was knowing that the Veloci-Rooster could no longer peck out my eyes if they released it from the chicken coop - at least that I was spared from. With the bandanna around my mouth I couldn't scream for help and being buried up to my neck in this pit, I was completely defenseless and helpless. In the words of Lee Dorsey, "Lord, I'm just so tired. How long will this go on?"

Did the evil inspiration for this come from smoking the leaves of those "Mexican Tomato Plants" in those funny shaped cigarettes. Was it jealously? Anger? I didn't do anything to them. Was it a feeling of powerlessness and the need to feel powerful so the Wolf Pack had to pick on the weakling of the bunch to feel that way?
I don't know.
The Devil?
I don't know.
The heart?
I don't know.
Some kind of insecurity?
I don't know.
Mass hysteria?
I don't know.
Agent Orange?
I don't know... Wait - this one I do know. Couldn't blame "agent orange" because none of these hippies ever went to Vietnam - they all burnt their draft cards - remember?

I just hoped that I had as many lives as that stupid cat, "Lazarus" who was inside the house watching my doom from the kitchen window - "lucky cat."

Around and up went the bricks - this was WORSE!
They were puffing on those hippie-cigarette thingies happy and evil. Working hard and enjoying every moment of it. With all the dirt that was piled up around me and with the pressure around my chest so great I could barley move my rib-cage every time I gagged (because of the rag over my mouth) and when my body convulsed in fear.
I was a Swede and I would not cry! Though my insides ached from betrayal and from being cut out of the pack - (disowned, I guess) I was trained not to show weakness. I was glad my eyes didn't leak, because I don't dare allow them to see me as a victim. This would only make them happier! No! I would not grant them that satisfaction... instead I was determined to die like Sir William Wallace - known to be Brave Heart.
I would let them murder me and though my inside person was a 12 year-old-boy desperately longing to find the meaning of love - disappointed, abandoned (once again), and betrayed by my own people - My outside person would die like a man! I would not betray the Viking code...I would not cry! I would not allow them that satisfaction.
HA! I win!
The next part of their evil master-plan came in the form of a old yellow tarp! A big piece of moldy plastic that was used to protect all the decaying boxes of National Geographic magazines from the seldom rain was now being proudly paraded around the backyard as a athlete would triumphantly display their country's flag after wining an Olympic gold medal.
Could it get worse? I didn't think so, but it did. The yellow tarp was thrown over the top of the "Igloo of Death" And that wasn't the end of the diabolically brilliant plan, there was more! Much more!
"Lord, I'm tired and scared and hurt and was wondering if you can tell me how much longer this will go on?"
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