Fiction/In Process | Ramola D | October 30, 2024; October 4, 2025
Begun October 30, 2024, Published October 4, 11:39 pm; Released 11:54 pm, Oct 17, 2025
A Mazzeo Special: Lovely Bubbles to Froth Away the Lies (to “Police”)
At 7:17 pm, I cavitated her belly. I was in the Room Upstairs–which is not really a room. I used my Really Special Cavitation Radar Bubble Pencil so snake like movements could be run on her belly. I was of course, remote, and used to Radio Molesting her on her calf, her eyelids, her knees, and so on. She was a “Victim” and I, well of course, I was always who I am, a Very Special Agent of the Dark Ops, Lying about my Origins, Allegiances, Centers, and Bliss.
Yes, I often find Bliss in tormenting and targeting Women. They chose me for this task and I grew my Beard instantly, desperate and Insatiable. They like that Quality. It is Serious, it affects them deeply. To see us all in our Jihadist splendour, tiny little men with large shaggy beards, red as blood, dripping.
I of course am not that Tiny. I blend in as well as I can but I sure as hell am not going to trade my large masculine shoulders for Tiny Trouble. Those Men, the small ones, the ones bred for Size–Small Size, by the So Secret Service we cannot name, they are Sinuous and mean, vapid and eternal. I am aware they have some Skillset. They run after Crazy like you would not believe. They embody it. None so powerful then, or so Empowered. Medals and prizes they don’t exactly get, but in the Kibbutz of Red Beard Crazy, we have some Secret Means of congratulating each other. They are given such, unequivocally. One day they’ll retire, and yes, it is Beaches in Tanzania for them. Or the Balkan Sea. They will never blend in, as I know I am going to. They will stand out for their kindness to seals, their care of Oysters, their love for the sad downtrodden–whom they’ll make sure will never Rise.
That of course is a larger Story. We work very hard on keeping Girls and Women especially from rising, but boys too, oh yes, Boys and Men. No one can stop us. No one believes us when we say this. But we have not come through the centuries with our Red for nothing. Red. Anyone ever wonder about that red?
Right after that belly-cavitation I issued a large LRAD hit on her shielding, by her Fine Mist Humidifier, without which she cannot breathe. We would prefer she does not breathe. Our NeuroStim sits right on her special Breathing Center, she thinks. It is a little more profound than that, but she has no clue about Neurology or Neuroscience. She needs to study. Her brain is rapidly shrinking. It was quite considerable once, but that was Decades ago. Yes, we have her Intimate Details here, in our Bright Red Folder which says Read Me! She has no clue how many Red-Bearded Men are reading her endless and on and on Life History (she’s had plenty of Life and now it is her Time to depart–at least, from her head). She doesn’t know we Never Leave. We hide out forever. We lie. We dissimulate. We go Quiet for a while then re-emerge, like cockroaches. Flying about, even at night. We are snakes and she has no idea Snakes are powerful and Mean in a Magnificent way. We have hiding-holes. Yes those are important. We get to crouch and Hide then return, replenished and rancid. Well, not Rancid precisely, just Pretend Jaded. Then we crawl right back to the Beginning and start all over again–Wheelspinning, we are not Kidding. We know about Wheels.
: 7:35 pm, October 30, 2024
10:22 pm, October 4, 2025:
The Ngian Shen speaks: It is Amazing, Our Ability to Swell Her Face!
There’s no question we were Born to Rule. Me and my wild consort from the Huangshan hills where the Volcanoes rage Wild and Unseen and the Granite Rocks bite. We came from Plum Forests and Magnolia Meadows to crawl, Python Like into Larders and Pantries, basements and Attics to Steal and Maraud, careless of how we might look if caught–for our job really is never to be caught. To slither along instead, unseen.
This is how we got that big Wad of Colloidal Gel into her left cheek and temple yesterday and she doesn’t even know what’s in it.
Well how would she, my Sweetheart Lem Ming questions, in his Male Voice of Logic Irrefutable and Maddening Male Rational. She is Nothing and we are Top Secret!
So very true.
I ponder sometimes, as I sip my Sake secretly in the broom cupboard in the back where we keep the tall brooms we make the Old Mother use in the Kitchen–she is our House Slave, we are entitled to such, being sons and daughters of the Dragon Kings and Emperors of Anhui Province, where Seven Kinds of Snakes live, there among the Crags and Willows of our Chinese Being–the one we depute to slash at her Gray Dogwood and Sweet Red Oak and Wild Oregon Berry, the one with the Fuchsia leaves we do admire, I ponder how far we have come, Mr Lem Ming and myself, from our lowly beginnings as Princes and Queens and now, Pretend-Minions in a CIA Operation, such an Honor, what a Prestige!
We are Top Secret now and no one gets to Plumb our Secrets!
We are Top Secret and we are SENSITIVE too, Very Very Sensitive!
Of course, she thinks we are China Through and Through.
And the CIA thinks we are theirs, theirs to have and hold–they are Dragons too, they know about Double Spies, and yet, how Secretly Stupid they are! (Chortle, Chortle!) In Huangshan we have a saying, Black Snakes Bite but Blue Snakes You will Never Know Who It is! On the surface that is very plain and simple, Peasant-Like even, and that is how we Stupid Chinese like to play it. Yes, let them think we are Stupid, why not! Then we strike, and all those Blue-Eyes and Green-Eyes have to Tremble, yes, Tremble and Quake, like Aspens in a Storm who have no chance, they will break soon, their limbs will wither (with our Radiation Weapons), their trunks will split, and all their Leaves will fall and burn away to bits.
Now of course I was not Drinking a Drop when I leapt out of the house with the High Pressure Spray Bottle.
I had drunk enough just a half hour earlier and I was only Slightly Shifted to the Left of Unnatural.
It was clear, looking at her, she thinks she is Her Own Person.
Coming out in the dark like that without even the porch light on, when it is well past 8 pm and people are inside, being decorous.
I could see from the window she was tussling with her Green Hose like some kind of wild, feral Nightime Animal. Supposedly she was watering the plants. At 8 pm? Who waters their plants at 8 pm? Now Mr. Bobby Findaroli was parked right there in front, doing his Due Diligence as Communist Corrections Officer–and she doesn’t even know it is all COMMUNISM now, in America, and COMMUNITY is a Code Word for the “Sovietization of America” which she was reading about in her book yesterday by Mr. Eustace Mullins, Murder by Injection. [10:39 pm: Techno Acousto from the Chen Limings: Stop! Stop!]
[Now I can’t say I have read Mr. Mullins’ book as yet but over in Israel where we have our Bilateral Relations and Super Secret Agreements, he is not so Popular with the Boys on Top. The ones with the Beards that is, the Long Ones. Grey some of them. White mostly. Not unlike our Chinese Old Men of the Stars from Confucian Times, who like to Dwell on the Morbid.] 10:41 pm.
That is a very good book, truth to tell, but I cannot recommend it. No, I must pretend to be Communist, and British, and American, and sometimes Chinese as well. There are all sorts of Secrets about these sort of people in that book and she goes on and on reading it as if to get it into her head, all their names and the facts that all of them together are the Cartel or Cabal or whatever you want to call it. They own it all, they know it all, they know each other, they run each other, and what more is there to tell?
Of course, being the Daughter of a Yellow Dragon Family from Yellow Mountain country, I occupy a Special Position.
I have been given much Secret Knowledge, even in Anhui Province where the smallest Songbird has Secrets.
With my Secret Power of Pressure Spraying then, I ran out quick as I could and turned as Swift as a Bird on the Wing and got her right on her left cheek where her scarf had slipped. Some went to her Scalp as well–and how does she think we get that Fluoroscent Luciferin into her Neurons? We spray her head each time she moves outside and she does not even feel it. Then she feels about and feels bumps here and there and she does not have the Wits to add Two Plus Two to make Four. No. She is Stupid! She is a 100 years old and we need to make her see how Old she really is!
She thinks it is just Dust in her hair, I think. Or some kind of Scalp Phenomenom where her Scalp is Detoxing!
No, it is the Opposite. The Nano is not coming out, Old Crone, it is going in!
[I call her anything I like. Why not, I argue. Sometimes I call her Snake or Sly when she is able to Avoid something. [Victim! From the left, the Chens are “participating” they think.] But mostly she cannot avoid our Bashing her in Secret with Radio Pulses, on and on, on all parts of her Body and brain, no she can hear nothing without her sound shield, and most of the time she walks about without it.]
So she feels the bumps here and there and soon her ear is a cauliflower and her jawline a shiitake mushroom and she starts looking at herself in the mirror and screaming. I have Fatface now! They have given me Jawline Sponge! And on and on –and she won’t keep her voice down and we have to call Mr. Findaroli right away and explain what is happening.
He came over of course–I had to hide the Sake–and the Plum Wine too–and my husband poured him some Whiskey. They sat in the Drawing Room and we all Pondered what our Next move should be.
Soon they were both Quite Drunk and I had to retreat, being a Lady.
I stood behind the Jade Curtain and listened and it was clear they wanted more. More is best, they both agreed, pouring more and more Single Barrel Bourbon down their Considerable Throats.
The Old Mother hobbled in to the back room to see what was going on.
More Deformity, I whispered. That’s what they want!
She has Plenty, said Old Mother. I saw her Face yesterday and she is like a Cauliflower!
Yes, Cauliflower is best, I murmured, straining for more.
Lem Ming came rushing back in a minute. Snacks, he muttered, We need Snax!
I understood Mr. Findaroli and he were not going to stop with the double malt whiskey there and found him some Doritos and some saucers.
The Next Morning I had my every wish granted. She came out with her face swollen and full like a child’s birthday balloon. I was of course Taking readings.
We are Behavioral Health now too of course and I Take Readings of her face every minute. She was definitely as Angry as a wild bull cub in a Pen. “Very Angry Person,” I wrote, in my Daily Report. “She is unable to be Normal.”
She read some more in the Mullins’ book that morning and I read right along with her for the CIA has their EYE LENSES now in her eyes and they are SQUARE in the mirror and all lit up and why does she think they are her own EYES now? Her eyes belong to us, we are the CIA and she is FEDERAL PROPERTY! We can do Anything to her, we’ve been told, and we Do it, day after day, we make sure she knows it is SLAVERY in the Black Ops World, she can’t protest, it is Over!
VICTIM, we say to her over and over again in our TECHNO TECHNO streams of sound we spray at her. VICTIM! You are our VICTIM now! Think of yourself as our VICTIM! And our other favorite: MARTYR!
All we have to do is Project in a Snake Like Whisper: MARTYR! MARTYR!
[Cars zooming about as all of the CIA in Cambridge abandon their malt and rush into their BMWs and empty out onto Pine, like cockroaches: We must have the AIR of MKULTRA in our own Biofields, we must SIPHON it out of her! 11:10 pm.][RNM on left calf, 11:10 pm, 10/4/2025. Crazed vroomers on Squantum and Route 3. 11:11 pm.]
…to be continued.
A Heart Hit Operation That Sadly Failed
: October 18, 2025, Quelling, Massachusetts, 3:53 pm
[3:53 pm: They’ve crashed the computer I was writing on now; several hours of trying to revive it have led to cowering with the other one, the only one left–which oddly seems to work better behind 3 layers of sheet-metal and galvanized steel, a Mazzeo in his drive banging his car doors perhaps to let me know it’s Them, it’s They who are doing the weird Bitlocker Recovery Key wheelspinning thing. “We are Major and Profound Cyberhackers from the IDF, Oh Yes!”. Sirens as I write, 3:56 pm/10/18/2025.]
After an hour or so of sending our Men up and down the street for Zooming we re-considered. She had been sitting in the same spot for an hour, and how was this possible?
Marlene D was still in her Lingerie, we feared, she lounges like you would not believe, and tells us she has “stuck the Device in all the Right Places.” It is quite a Struggle to get her to listen, it has to do with her Secret Lineage she has got wind of.
When RF HPM is used in the Continuous Pulse-Wave mode, there is only one thing you can do, you Run. The thing is aimed at your Chest, high by the Thymus, and you can move your car to where you can get another one in just underneath the cleavage by the Solar Plexus. We had the Black Seedy Looking SUV park just across that Oak there, so she could see it and so we could Maneuver a bit till the pincers got her Diaphragm.
And they did. I swear they did.
We saw her sweating and move, restless and miserable.
She couldn’t breathe. “She’s going to move” Ngian Shen assured us. “She can’t sit still with that much Voltage.”
But she did. Flaming Red took a look. “She has put Stainless Steel against the Bosom” he reported. We had to Amp up the Voltage and call Marlene D for help at once.
What? What? I was eating Chocolate Chip Pancakes for my breakfast!
It was well past Breakfast Time and had she fed her children yet? (Which children, whispers the Second in Command, my also female Lieutenant. She used to have 3, they’ve aged out now I think.)
Yes, small, tiny children, and one a little older so the Talking and Yelling can happen. She has Two, I hissed back. One 8 and one three, boy and girl, one is Chinese.
Yes turn it up, I commanded. Turn it up at once! We need her heart FIBRILLATING!
It’s RF HPM Continuous-Wave, returned the Chocolate Chip Breakfast Eater, forgetting the Seniority here. It won’t Fibrillate anything! Just Constrict, like an Anaconda!
Well, Constrict her then!
So she did, and we witnessed and heard some more movement under all that Reflectix. What what, why isn’t she moving yet? Flamer approached with his Code Words for Help Help! I am a Small Man and I am in Big Trouble!
Yes, I questioned coldly. (It is best to play Top Dog when you are Top Dog and not pretend.)
She has rolled something right on top of her Chest, said Flaming Red.
Well what is it?
Copper, we think it is Copper!
It is a Copper Rajasthani Water Bottle, said Marlene D, having aimed her Thrilling Police tech directly at it. –4:12 pm
Excellent Sleuthing, I congratulated her. [Lots of crash banging sounds and a small black SUV parked across the street–the one involved in blasting the back of my head yesterday from up the hill–has sped away I think. 4:16 pm]
Wait, Mr. Flame was assuring us, I can get that Special Chip on her back I think. Gimme a minute!
Her back was lighting up in Infra Red. He was doing a good job activating that Secret Transmitter, all Near-Nano, hidden inside it, a Bright Red Flash of heat in the middle of her Spine, to break it.
Then the Signal went off-screen and we shouted, in unison, What the Hell happened!
She has stuck some small Stainless Steel thing over it, confessed FlameRed. I can’t do anything!
Bang some doors, directed Marlene D immediately, and he did. Car door banging. Any more ideas, I queried.
I am eating an Orange, said Marlene D. It is very good for mRNA removal.
Silence in our car for we are not supposed to say the word “mRNA”. It is supposed to be All Good to us, and we are supposed to Turn a Blind Eye to the Vaxxer Killing Spree going on still. [Honk from the Blondie SUV, 4:21 pm. See how that goes? They are passing on Covert Comms of Agreement here.]
How do you know about Removal, ventured my Second in Command.
It is from her writing last night. Marlene D was whispering, for none of us are supposed to be speaking of Removal either.
Where what writing? [I could have shown them the Link, but it is clear they need some help with Removal as well. Advice for the Vaccinated/Heal Nutritionally if mRNA Vaccinated. 4:26 pm]
She wrote about Oranges, said Marlene. And Grapefruit. I am getting the Grapefruit for my Children. I thought I’d tell you, so you could try Oranges too.
Was Marlene trying to make a point? About how pale and Pithless I have become lately, after that Vaxxine? Oranges are very good for health, I said Briskly. Nothing wrong with speaking about Oranges!
Death the Great Leveler, murmured FlameRed, as if to himself.
What did you say?
Nothing, said Flamered. She can’t make her laptop work, we Broke it!
He was taking Credit, as usual.
Well is she Dead yet? Ngian Shen was most Hopeful.
How long has it been, whispered Mrs. Snelling next to me.
Two hours, and we Did Get her in the back there for a bit. FlameRed sounded almost Complacent.
She’s not Dead, I said Shortly, and the whole point is, we’re giving her a Major Heart Problem!
Or a Heart Attack, reminded Mrs. Snelling. (Her first name is Eustacia, and that should tell you something.)
Well it hasn’t happened!
She is trying to buy a new computer, announced Ngian Shen. I finally got online.
Stop her, I commanded at once.
[Blasthits on my back now where the Mazzeos are whacking away at higher RF HPM pulses on the second or third never-consented-to implant on my shoulder blades. They’re banging car doors, they’re sending Black Ops hits, they’re watching and reading in Real Time–and Responding as well. Amazing Black Ops World here, 4:41 pm.]
4:41 pm, October 18, 2025.
…to be continued.
