Zawmb’yee Continues The Blog, Chap 9
I’ve almost finished reading the Ofuye. It’s very tedious, and I hope I’m absorbing it. The true test will be when I see Apacevj. It’s been a very long process and that’s why I’m behind on writing the blog.
I’ve added something to what I think I should call the emergency email to Doug. I had the computer create a random number which I haven’t looked at and I’ve blindly put it in the email and will have it blindly be a new password for the blog if I send the email. That way, I can stop access from here, even by me and turn it back to Doug. It seems peculiar to do this, but more and more I’m not feeling like myself because… Oh, I don’t know, oh hell, oh Kievifkwa. Sorry, I should get out of the habit of cursing at every turn. Not very regal.
Poor James. If I were more like my old self, I probably would have had him released, told him to promise not to say anything and sin no more. Oh, that’s silly. But it’s too late for that now. Poor James. What have I done.
We never did go back to the mevltikacle after lunch on that day, but the construction crew did finish installing the agroape. It’s an execution platform that has a wall at the back, and a giant turntable in the center. In the center of the turntable are shackles for the ankles. Cables hang from a scaffolding at the top. The agroape was placed in front of the tikwitipj, and across from the agroape, they built the eksikmazm, the firing-squad platform. The turntable could be rotated to face either the tikwitipj wheel, or the eksikmazm.
Unfortunately, wandering in the maze, James had fallen into a crevice. He was pulled out but had a few minor bruises and scrapes. He was given first-aid and cleaned of mud, moss, and rock dust, but needed to be punished for attempted escape. They put him in a tilneskoyg.
They fitted its yoke over his neck and shoulders with the extra long wooden beam firmly in place on his shoulders and extending outward. His arms were stretched out straight on top of the beam and his wrists were manacled to the far ends of the beam.
We had returned the next day. A new team was in place: there were twenty or more women from a special division of the wipzib; they were called the Yacmyeep. Their hair was purple and their fingernails were painted the colors of the rainbow. They wore short yellow pleated dresses, decorated at the waist with equipment belts, and their immodest bodices had purple sun symbols on each breast with a blue triangle in the middle. Blue spiral designs were engraved on their calf-high green leather boots.
Libikzi, a tall woman, with blond hair and purple lipstick was in charge. She wore a white shirt, a silver necklace with a sapphire pendant, gold bracelets, a black leather skirt and black heels. She stood with a sword behind James who was standing at the pedal of the tikwitipj. He was locked in a tilneskoyg with his arms outstretched, and they had added to his waist, a ceremonial metal belt that had handles on short chains attached to the sides, but he was otherwise naked. Two of the Yacmyeep held onto the handles.
Libikzi touched the sword to his back, and said, “Spin the wheel.”
James stepped on the pedal and the wheel spun. Libikzi walked in front of James, put the sword in a scabbard and bumped him. Turning around, the Yacmyeep switched hands on the handles, and marched James backward up onto the turntable of the agroape. They put the shackles on his ankles, and attached cables to the beam of James’ tilneskoyg so that he would remain standing. They left the platform.
Libikzi gave a signal and James was rotated to face the wheel. James watched the pointer go past “stoning” and “arrows” and dozens of other choices that Gacplk had told him about, until it started to slow down. James squirmed. Finally the wheel stopped at “catapults.” A signal was given and James was rotated to face the eksikmazm.
Libikzi said, “Prepare catapults.”
There was a commotion on the eksikmazm as fifteen Yacmyeep assigned to the firing squad gathered their weapons and mounted the catapults into each firing station. The squad leader shouted, “Catapults installed.”
Libikzi said, “Load catapults.” She looked at James. “Any last words?”
James wiggled his fingers and shuffled his feet. “The FBI will find out about this and… Who the hell are you, you crazy damn bitch; what the hell are you doing, you, you… Stop, help, stop — look over there: the police and FBI are here.”
“Good stall,” said Libikzi, “but no one knows you’re here.”
“No, no. They’re on their way… You don’t want to be responsible for a murder,” said James, “and I could be helpful to you…”
Libikzi said, “Aim.”
James shouted, “Don’t,” and bent his knees slightly and leaned one way and then the other which made the turntable wobble slightly.
James winced, and a barrage of banana cream pies pounded his body from head to toe. James licked some of the cream from his mouth and quivered. “What…,” he said.
Libikzi said, “Re-load, aim, fire.”
More pies came flying through the air. One hit James straight on his face as he gasped. He inhaled a piece of it and choked and coughed. He made a gagging sound and spit some out. “Wait,” he said.
Libikzi said, “Re-load, aim, fire.”
James closed his mouth. He was totally covered in cream pie. He was rotated and they fired again. His back was covered. He was rotated again to face front.
“Cease fire,” Libikzi shouted. “Clean-up squad, attack!”
Five Yacmyeep ran onto the platform. Two licked cream off his shins and worked their way up his thighs. One squeezed in between them and sucked on James. One ran behind him, scraped some cream off his back, reached around and stuffed it in his mouth. A fifth Yacmyeep picked up a hose and sprayed him with water.
James said, “Uh aah uh. Stop. Uh, the FBI will hear about this, uh…”
Libikzi said, “This is your last meal, James.”
“What?” said James.
“Maybe, we’ll let you spin again. But for now I think you’ve had enough of a meal.” Libikzi commanded, “Clean-up squad withdraw.”
They left James standing there alone, quivering, while we all went to lunch. Yenkoi and I strolled towards my kngacev, and we had a pleasant conversation.