Three figures shambled across the flatlands. Their progress produced a ripple in the surface water which spread like a visual cliché from a hundred years ago. A short figure, the centrepiece of the triptych, protected by the mass of a body covered in rags on each side. She was driving the retable forward with language which would curdle larva. They moved toward The Settlement. The left hand side of the three-legged race, head erect, straight back, shambled with whatever dignity he could muster. The right hand creature, The Profit, stretched and strained as if it was possessed by a daemon eating through internal organs. The rolling, hate filled eyes and halo of grey hair lent this figure an Old Testament quality.
It just needed a winged chariot to swoop down and take the wretched trio to the bosom of some compassionate creator. No such luck. The Settlement sent a hydrogen powered flat boat to warn them off.
Dave sat at the front of the flat boat nursing a piece of metal which could reduce human beings, or similar, to a charred mass in less than five seconds. It gave his declamatory speech some weight.
“We don’t want no religion or god botherers in The Settlement.”
“Hain’t got no use forem since we burnt the last lot.”
“Whatever you sellin we hain’t got no use for it, less it smoke, weed or snort.”
The Profit kicked off on one, in a high pitched scream. A string of names and blasphemies issued from his lips. Dave pulled the piece of metal up and pointed it in the direction of the unholy trinity. He was trying to catch the torrent of hate,
“A Dam Smith…..Ric…o, Hume the Baileyvas… matchsticks, badge oflamont…. Shit the Cargo Friedman, God Damn Hungarians…Hyek still and Hyek swell the mighty greenback whale…….”
“Grameen Yunus Brac and Illitch make our tools convivial not rich”
