Chapter 379: Tongue Job

Early Summer Vacation to Sunday, July 1, 2007

One of my strong regrets about the way things had unfolded was that I'd never gotten a chance to destroy our neighbor's church. The Galloping Ninnies had said many terrible things about us and I'd been particularly angry at what they'd said after Ava had been shot, but teaching them a lesson hadn't seemed doable before I got rid of the UAV, and since then I'd been too busy decimating the Air Force and exerting as much pressure on the politicians as I could. But after the President's capitulation, there were far fewer constraints on my actions, which didn't bode well for the Ninnies.

For the first few days after the capitulation, there was too much going on for the Ninnies to get a word in edgewise, but when that settled down and the media had run out of real news, it started giving various church groups a platform to state their opinions about recent events. The Ninnies used their geographic proximity to the angel as a way of getting themselves far more media prominence than they otherwise would have received, and they used it to stridently denounce the behavior of the Andersons in general, and me in specific.

^

[I'll give you a little background about the Ninnies, although I didn't find most of this out quite yet.

They have a thing about beautiful scenery. They pitch it as being a religious issue, but it's clearly nothing to do with Christianity and everything to do with manipulating people by using our innate enjoyment of natural beauty. As one example of their using nature, the Ninnies have built a couple dozen outdoor meditation areas around their property in its most picturesque spots. The open-sided constructions range from 1- to 50-people capacities, and they're very important to the Ninnies. By arranging for people to feel the beauty of nature in a church setting they're gaining credibility by arrogation, and they use that credibility to gain control. They do exactly the same thing with the "inspired, infallible, inerrant, and authoritative word of God," by claiming credibility in telling people what it means, and how they should behave, because everyone else is too "sinful, depraved, and unfit for God's favor." Once their flock buys into those claims of credibility, they're turning themselves into sheeple. It's such an obvious control game that I didn't even need Vanessa to explain it to me.

A couple of years ago, the Ninnies had tried very hard to get permission to buy Chip Ross Park, and had been laughed at for it. They'd had plans drawn up and pictures made showing how beautiful the final result would be, had reports written about how several thousands of people could benefit every week from the new facilities, etc. All they'd done was waste money and get themselves laughed at again. The Corvallis city council had officially told them, "We are NEVER going to permit private ownership of Chip Ross Park!"

Having visualized how incredibly wonderful it would've been to have their church on top of the beautiful hill overlooking all of Corvallis, the Ninnies were forced to lower their sights way down, and buy the land at the eastern foot of the hill. Theirs is a pretty spot but vastly less so than the top of the hill, and I'm sure the top of the hill had a major ego appeal too.

Then about the time their church's construction was finishing, the city happily agreed that the Andersons could own Chip Ross Park and a large chunk of additional land to the west. We'd built our private home on it, to the benefit of less than a dozen people. The Ninnies were righteously angry and extremely ill-disposed toward us. There might've been some hurt egos involved in that too.

Right from Archangel Michael's first appearance in LA, the Ninnies had hated almost every word that'd come out of his mouth, and they hadn't been too fond of how he looked when he stood silently either. The Ninnies consider themselves to be good Christians - in other words, they knew they were right and everyone else was wrong - so Archangel Michael really got their backs up; and his front REALLY got their backs up. And then he'd chosen to resurrect an ANDERSON!

And then to make matters even WORSE, the local government had almost immediately cordoned off the Anderson's property with a radius that stopped the Ninnies getting to their OWN church on their OWN land! That they'd bought FIRST! The Galloping Ninnies had been righteously pissed - and no one can do "righteously pissed" as much as devout Christians can.

They still were.

Since the resurrection the Ninnies had done some research - gossiping really - and their anti-me comments on TV were full of carefully chosen details about my life, especially about my sex-life because that particularly irritated them and proved that I was evil.]

^

They were making personal attack after personal attack and I was getting more than a little pissed off about it. We were all watching quite a lot of TV these days - you do that when your life might depend on spotting something developing - so we heard many of the Ninnies' slurs.

Over dinner one evening, after yet another nasty comment by the church's main spokesman, I said, "I'd thought about flattening their church after they said they regretted the sniper that hit Ava hadn't been a better shot, but a good opportunity never came up. I'm starting to think I should make an opportunity."

Vanessa said, "It would be a good idea to remind people that the Guardian Angel is still on the job, but remember that these people don't have any real power so there's no need to be harsh on them."

The next Sunday afternoon (July 1st, a week after Sophia's wedding) was a very nice day, so several of my lovelies and I were lying around the Kids' Pool catching the rays. They were in their Australian bikinis and I was in Heaven.

And the Galloping Ninnies were in a lather. After a prayer-and-placard-painting session at their church - the State of Emergency and cordon were gone by now - a very large group of them marched en masse around to the front of our property to loudly and annoyingly protest. I had no idea what they thought the point of the protest was, as even they couldn't be so stupid to think that it might cause God to take my resurrection back. But what their protest lacked in having a point, it made up for in being loud and annoying. There were probably over a thousand of them (their church can hold up to five thousand idiots at a time), and they were VERY loud. It was an ideal opportunity.

I got up and put some pants on [soon after moving here I'd made the mistake of telling Julia, "I'd rather go naked than wear a G-string swimsuit." Julia had agreed, so when the girls "go Australian", my clothes just "go"]. I told the girls, "That's a mob of Galloping Ninnies." I saw that name confused the non-family girls who were with us, so I added, "That's my name for people from The Church of The Horsemen of Christ. There are a couple of TV cameras with them and they've obviously gone to some trouble to arrange a big event..."

"How can you tell there are cameras?" asked Pat.

"I've had enough experience with mobs to be able to tell from the sound when they're performing for cameras. I think I'll wander down to the gates to see what my appearance inspires their preacher to say. You'd better stay here because it might get ugly if the angel thinks it has to intervene."

"Goody," said Julia jumping to her feet to join me. "That loudmouth is begging for a good dose of ugly."

Several of the other girls wanted to come too, but Pat said, "If there are cameras I'd better stay here because I don't want Mom and Dad to get worried. Is that okay, Mark?"

"Of course it is, especially because I'd prefer ALL of you to stay here."

#5: <Thank goodness the ones that are coming are at least putting T-shirts on. That mob would have a fit if they saw the girls in those bikinis.>

One girl who hadn't been bothering to wear the top half of her Australian bikini was just standing waiting for the others, without putting any clothes on, so I told her, "You're going to have to cover up, Donna."

"They can't control how I dress in my own home."

"True, but if we have a confrontation with them we want it to look like it was entirely their fault. If you go down undressed like that you'll be deliberately annoying them, and people could use that to blame us for whatever happens afterward."

"Darn! You take all the fun out of teasing them."

"Sorry about that. Perhaps we should rent a football stadium and sell tickets to the thousands of guys who'd appreciate staring at your sexy body."

"Haha. No, I wanted to deliberately annoy this lot, like you said. I'll put a shirt on."

"Thanks, sweetie."

Donna did that and we walked down the path toward the gate.

#12: <The girls whose T-shirts are JUST long enough to be barely below their crotches are really going to get the mob worked up. It does a number of my head thinking they might be naked underneath and hoping for a glimpse, so the puritans are going to love hating it.>

#11: <I'm sure Christians are too pure to have thoughts like that, haha.>

The girls might've cooperated by covering up, but they couldn't resist some teasing. When the path widened out at the bottom of the ridge, Julia and Ava had an arm of mine each, with Carol holding Julia's other hand, while Donna had her arm around Ava's back. The other girls linked arms and followed behind us.

When the mob saw us coming they got suddenly excited; their yelling, pointing, and waving of signs dramatically increasing. I was pleased that even despite their additional efforts, they failed to persuade God to undo His resurrection.

There were several guards formed up inside the gate, one of whom quickly jogged to us, arriving when we were still over a hundred feet from the gate. He said, "Your presence is making them worse."

"I know. I'm hoping they get inflamed enough that the Guardian Angel makes an appearance. Remember how much money you all made last time a bunch of stupid Christians formed a mob outside our gate?"

"Yeah I remember, but also that some of them had guns."

I hadn't forgotten that, especially with the girls arrayed out to either side of me to make a very attractive small-barn-sized target. I had a sight blob searching the mob but I hadn't seen anything worrisome. Certainly no heavily tattooed skinheads. They were just your average bunch of over-dressed, over-weight, under-intelligenced, short-memoried, church-going Galloping Ninnies, i.e., typical ones. I said, "I'm sure the angel hasn't forgotten either. You're right though, so we'll stop here."

The preacher kept glaring our way and getting increasingly worked up. I blamed it on the girls' long lengths of bare thighs because they looked VERY erotic. Christians don't react well to natural beauty of that type. The preacher was ranting into his bullhorn. Mostly he was pointing it toward his followers, so we couldn't hear what he was saying, but every now and then he'd point it our way and yell at us. There were too many other people yelling behind him so I couldn't catch most of it, but I'm pretty sure he thought we were very bad people.

By this stage of my description of these events, and given that you're reading my autobiography so clearly have better than average intelligence and judgment, you've doubtless wondered how this mob could be so stupid as to repeat the activity that got the last mob stripped naked, the skinheads killed, and a few others injured with the weapons they'd brought with them. The explanation is obvious. You're not seeing it because you're thinking intelligently, which is a hindrance when trying to understand Christians. That's not a facetious joke; that's the truth. They see something they don't like, they KNOW they are RIGHT and that the other people wrong and usually evil too, so their mouths fly open and their condemnations pour out. There's no thinking involved in that process, so naturally there's no intelligence either.

The last mob hadn't included any Ninnies because the Ninnies had been at their church at the time, so it was easy for the Ninnies to not think about what had happened last time. They KNEW that they were RIGHT and that people who go to other churches are wrong and probably evil, so what had happened to the last mob was something they had deserved and was not relevant this time. The Ninnies, armored in their righteousness and full of confidence that God was on their side - what with their being RIGHT and us being wrong and so obviously evil - had no hesitation in expressing their moral outrage. Christians never have any hesitation in expressing that; they usually can't wait to start. They've had all their lives to get used to getting away with expressing moral outrage against anyone who has disagreed with them, and they've always been right to do so, so the Ninnies considered themselves right to do so this time too. Plus there's the additional factor that group 'mentality' - using that word loosely in this context - is very powerful, making everyone in such a group feel invulnerable.

I shouldn't denigrate Christians so unfairly, since every other religious group is equally stupid. One hundred and thirty years ago Zulu witchdoctors told their warriors to charge straight forward into the massed firepower of British soldiers, and the warriors did it believing the witchdoctors' assurances that their spells would deflect the British bullets. The warriors did it battle after battle, suffering appalling casualty rates but never wavering in their religious belief, such is the intelligence-removing nature of religion, especially when the worshippers have been worked up by their leaders. All religions require adherents to accept their leader's statements "on faith", which precisely means "without intelligent thought". Devout people are very practiced at operating without intelligent thought when their preachers tell them to. The Ninnies' behavior wasn't inexplicable; it was actually very typical.

While the asshole ranted some more, I flew a large knife out of the Staff Quarters' kitchen window and to the top of our wall, where I floated it toward the gate so it'd be hidden but very handy if I had a good excuse to use it. Several of the bullhorn ranter's TV appearances ago I'd had the idea of cutting his tongue out. It'd be such an appropriate punishment for a slur-casting preacher that it had strongly appealed to me. Whenever he'd reappeared on the box - which had been far too often - that idea had always returned. Clearly God was sending me a message, and I always do what God hints at me to do when it's also what I want to do (which I understand is how faith in God works with other people too).

After using his bullhorn to tell his followers what to think, he quieted them down so he could use the media to tell everyone else what to think.

I was starting to think I'd have to move much closer to get something from him that I could use, but he solved the problem for me. Apparently he thought that the camera needed to see more action because he started interspersing his answers to the reporter with bullhorn-assisted yells at us. We could hear them clearly and they were very obnoxious.

His fourth yell was, "You should be dead!..."

#4: <Does that mean "You shouldn't be alive in the first place", or "Someone should kill you"?>

#10: <I agree the former doesn't merit the punishment we're thinking of, but given all his past history it's a safe bet that he's said plenty of things to the reporter that justified what we want to do, so I vote we give ourself the benefit of the doubt.>

#21: <God has hinted to us what we should do, after all.>

#All: <Agreed.>

He was yelling the beginning of his next sentence into the back of the bullhorn ("You're not..."). It was best to do the act immediately after the sentence that merited the punishment, so I moved the sight blob close to his head to get a good look, then used some small but forceful NP-plates to force his mouth wide open while two fingertips entered at the base and roof of his mouth, pinched down on his tongue, then they stretched it out. Each mind has a maximum NP force of over five hundred pounds now, so it only needed two fingertips from one mind.

The damage might have been too grievous if I simply pulled his tongue until it separated from his head, and my NP-points edges weren't sharp enough to cut a tongue, so I needed the knife. I had it in my grip already, waiting for the right moment to move it. I was using other NP-grips to hold him still, including making sure his arms didn't get in the way. The preacher's back was to nearly all of his followers so they had no clue what was happening. The few people who could see the preacher were puzzled by his sticking out his tongue, having such a weird expression on his face and groaning, but they weren't yet alarmed.

The alarm happened about half a second later, when the Guardian Angel popped into existence about ten feet above the preacher. He couldn't, but everybody else looked up, including the cameraman, so they missed the knife. It'd dropped down on our side of the wall, zoomed sideways to the gate then through the bars in front of the preacher. I held his head more firmly, pulled his tongue out extra hard, and made one extremely quick sideways slice immediately in front of his lips. Our guards had seen the knife but it had moved far too rapidly for them to try to stop it, even if they'd had that idea.

Blood spurted from the foul-mouthed preacher as I accelerated the two-thirds of a tongue and knife very rapidly into our property (rapidly because I wanted my sight blob back asap). I canceled the NP-points holding the preacher, letting him fall screaming and spraying to the ground. I dropped the tongue where I'd had the bonfire with the clothes of the last bunch of Christians. It wasn't far from me so I could see that location with my eyes. The knife I returned to the Staff Quarter's kitchen, washing it under the faucet and wiping it with a dishcloth.

One of the gate guards was running for the Staff Quarters, presumably for the first-aid kit although I couldn't imagine how anyone could treat that wound. I said to the guard by us, "Looks like we need an ambulance."

"We're on it already."

#31: <Now for the more profitable and newsworthy part of today's entertainment.>

There looked to be about a thousand people around our gates and down the street. Apart from the small gap they'd left around their boss and the news team, they were mostly packed fairly tightly, making it conveniently easy for me to fence them in. The guard closest to where I was standing was looking at the gate, so I closed my eyes to create a second sight blob. Proximity would tell me if our nearby guard started turning around to look at me. (From about now on, when I'll write "sight blob" I'll usually mean "radio blob". In our internal conversations we'd initially been very careful about the nomenclature, but we got lazy and I want to write the same words we used at the time. We preferred saying "sight blob" since it seemed a more descriptive term. Unless there was a need not to, we usually used radio blobs to see with just on the chance they detected something we should know about, but this time we were actually using non-radio sensing sight blobs because we wanted very clear vision, without strange color shifts to it.)

The crowd had just started reacting to the Guardian Angel's appearance, with a few of the people on the outside just starting to run away. Judging by the crowd's shock, it hadn't occurred to any of them that standing outside my gates and yelling death threats into my face might result in the creature assigned to protect me making an appearance. These were obviously very devout Christians.

The next several minutes of picking up people and stripping them were so similar to what I'd done to the last mob - even in the number of people involved - that I won't bother going into any details except for noting a few variations.

I didn't club anyone, mainly because this crowd had only stood outside our gates and ranted nastily whereas the previous mob had been intent on storming our property and doing God knows what once they were inside. It was easy enough to hold this bunch in an NP-fenced area, with sections of the 'fence' actively bulldozing them off their feet every time a group of them were standing. If someone did manage to get past the fence, I'd pick him up and make him the next person I processed.

The news-crew was inside the invisible corral. My first action was to pick up the cameraman and move him outside the area so he could film the event better. While he was recovering from that experience I picked up the reasonably good looking and momentarily well dressed female reporter, held her facing the camera, and stripped her. Her screams alerted every cameraman and saber-toothed tiger in the area. By the time she was processed, which took only a few seconds, the cameraman was already being the consummate professional, albeit with a rapidly developing erection, but that's beside the point.

The cameraman got some very graphic shots, which he visibly enjoyed. The reporter was responsible for making the demonstration louder and more annoying than it would've been without her, so she was now truly creating the news, just like she'd wanted. Maybe not "just like", but she'd wanted a riot and now she had one, not to split hairs - because spreading her legs had done that already.

When I put her down outside the invisible corral, she covered herself as best she could and ran screaming behind the cameraman, who kept the camera on her until she was close enough to make him regret it. After hitting him, she started demanding either his shirt or the tape - I couldn't tell which - but it didn't much matter as I picked her up and held her between the cameraman and the corral, facing him with her arms stretched apart. I held her in that position while I got on with processing everyone else.

I'd already remembered that knives were useful for removing some clothes. Not having any skinheads to take knives from, I'd borrowed a couple of suitable blades from the staff's kitchen.

I didn't remove the idiots' jewelry, watches or fool around with any of the minutiae this time. Not even shoes unless I needed to do so to get their clothes off. I stripped them naked and burned everything burnable on the bonfire I created on top of the tongue. I made a pile of newly created junk out of everything else, mainly crushed cellphones and keys. I did the behind-the-fire wallet and purse accumulation, of course. The guard nearest us could see that happening and was happily amused.

After stripping each person, I placed them on the ground on the outside of the corral and let them go. They'd go running and screaming down the street to get away from the horror. They ran different distances. My first victims were the most terrified so they ran a long way, but later victims had seen that nothing else seemed to happen to anyone who was released so they'd cover themselves with their hands and scuttle away with acute embarrassment rather than terror. Christians may think God created mankind in His image, but they sure don't want that image to be seen by anyone. The logic of their being ashamed rather than proud of God's image escapes me, just like all the rest of their 'logic'. (Actually it doesn't: many people are Christians because they're insecure, especially the members of authoritarian churches. Being exposed horrifies insecure people.)

Some of the processed people didn't go far at all, waiting a few yards away until their family had regrouped, then they moved off together. When I could see that a group, such as a family, were together, I processed them at the same time because Mom has raised me to be considerate. Some of the Ninny wives weren't as considerate as my mom tends to be; not when they noticed that their husbands had erections from all the scenery. Once the initial terror was over and a routine established, quite a few guys had that problem: an angry wife.

My processed victims couldn't walk back to their homes through Corvallis naked, and quite a few of them would've lived too far away as the Ninnies' church has a large catchment area for its 'drips', so when a large enough group had accumulated that they felt they had safety in numbers, they headed cross-country around our outer wall back to their church. Where - and this is just my thirty two opinions - they probably should've stayed in the first place.

A police car and an ambulance arrived at the same time. The paramedics would have difficulty getting though the mob to the de-tongued preacher, so I picked the asshole up, moved him over the top of the mob and placed him beside the back doors of the ambulance. I didn't strip him, figuring he'd probably been punished enough. The paramedics got to work.

The cops got out of their car and were surrounded by naked people pointing at the Guardian Angel demanding the cops stop it, but the cops didn't even bother drawing their weapons. One of them got on the radio while the other moved toward the as yet unprocessed people. Halfway there I stopped him with a firm 'hand' on his chest, then increased the pressure until he had to take a step backward. I gave him a couple more backward nudges until he got the idea and returned to his car. It was hard to imagine he hadn't heard about the last time this had happened, so he'd know there was nothing he could do other than wait to let it play out. I got back to my stripping operation.

It takes several minutes to strip so many people; time enough for the ambulance to leave with the tongueless moron, and for more cops and more just-in-case ambulances to arrive. The new cops handed out their cars' blankets, and then they joined the existing cops in doing nothing. If they walked toward the clothed people, I politely but firmly pushed them back toward their cars.

The only remaining point worth noting, were two points that were VERY worth noting. When I'd processed about two-thirds of the mob the following happened.

#14: <Wow, look at how gorgeous this girl is.>

All of my minds could see what the sight blob could see, but #14 had been stripping that girl so he noticed her charms first.

The rest of us didn't take long, #All: <Wow! She's GORGEOUS!>

I moved the sight blob to get a better look. Occasionally my minds had made comments about a person being stripped, but that was actually a rare event. We'd seen so many naked Christians by now, the vast majority of which we'd have preferred not to have seen, that the concept of naked people had lost all of its appeal. But apparently not quite "all". The girl #14 had just stripped had a PERFECT body, and an extremely pretty face too. She was about eighteen years old I guessed, dark-haired and medium-height, but certainly not medium-figured: she had absolutely perfect D-cup breasts, a narrow waist, and a fine looking ass. Especially with the old Target Game's manipulation of some of the school's A-list beauties, I'd seen quite a few very beautiful girls' bodies before, but this girl blew them all out of the water; she was a wet dream. I was gobsmacked by her beauty. Her breasts should have sonnets written about them. Or even better, I should get to suck on them.

#5: <Don't destroy her phone or purse. Put them to one side for later perusal. Let's find out who she is and whether she likes being on top or underneath.>

#8: <You might be going a bit fast... >

#5: <I'm a fast worker. See, she's naked already.>

#13: <Yeah, you're a smooth operator all right.>

#22: <It seems such a pity to put her down and let her run away.>

#14: <Presumably we want to see her again... >

#8: <Yummy!>

#14: <I'll take that as a "Yes." Obviously we're not going to abuse her in any way, but we can do the opposite. Let's stroke her cheek and other soothing things. It's time to put her down, so put her down on the right and face her away from anyone else. Handle her gently and let's see how she reacts.>

The Ninnies' church was to the left so that's the way nearly all the already processed people had gone. Those still hanging around were down the street a ways, covering themselves as best they could while they talked to the cops, sat on the grass crying, looked dazed, or otherwise struggled to handle the enormous tragedy of this terrible event. To the right was mostly an empty, open field, although with some spectators in the distance as this had been going long enough for the closest members of the public to come for some entertainment. The gorgeous girl was crying but not dramatically. It was the most common female reaction to recent events so it didn't signify much. I started moving her toward the right and down, about half the speed I usually moved my recently stripped victims.

#19: <Her tan lines are worryingly modest. What was she wearing? Especially what sort of underwear did she have on? Not an armor-plated monstrosity of a bra like Chloe Moon wore, I hope? PLEASE don't let us find another gorgeously titted girl who's totally wasted on Christianity.>

#14: <I don't remember. Either her clothes weren't noteworthy or I was very bored. I hope it was the former but it was more likely the latter.>