Some people, have been asking me how I came to have the long scar low on the back of my neck, to which I never gave a answer. But it appears that the more people that see it, they all ask the same question. Not wanting to tell the story, I made up one for my friends that ask.
Back in the twentieth century, (Soldiers who fought in WWII), would tell stories about the pretty French girls in France. Well I was in WWII but no where near France or the other countries in Europe.
I had always wanted to go to France and see all them girls and my chance came In the mid sixties. What they, ( The old solders said:) was true, My social live was blooming and growing bigger with each passing day.
As it is said: all good things come to an end. Someone had a boy friend that became very jealous and made a complaint to the government. In shot order, the long arm of the law had me in their grip, not knowing what to do with me. I had done nothing to be deported for, so I was placed in a dungeon with chains, anchored to the wall and given bread and water once a day. After several months had passed, the government mad a decision. To stop the flow of mixed blood, new born children would be drowned in the Sane river and the Guillotine would be used to correct the rest of the problem.
They set a date and sharpened the blade, The day came and my neck was placed cross a block of wood with a half moon cut out of the bottom piece, A second block of wood with a matching half moon cut to go around my neck at the top. I was placed on my knees and my hands were tied behind my back. Then they waited for that magic hour to come.
Now while all of this was going on, my wife was at home in her kitchen, baking bread, She is well known for her baked bread, but this time something had gone wrong. She could not cut it with a sharp knife, and since she was going to see me beheaded, she would take a loaf with her and place it on the chopping block and when the blade fell it would cut the loaf as my head fell into a basket. But the loaf of bread slowed the blade and shattered it. Only a small part of the blade managed to touch my neck and left the scar that I have today.
The moral: Never stick your neck out in another country and love will always lead to greed and greed will cause the death of any country.
Viva La France
By; Ben R.
Nov, 28, 2011
Back in the twentieth century, (Soldiers who fought in WWII), would tell stories about the pretty French girls in France. Well I was in WWII but no where near France or the other countries in Europe.
I had always wanted to go to France and see all them girls and my chance came In the mid sixties. What they, ( The old solders said:) was true, My social live was blooming and growing bigger with each passing day.
As it is said: all good things come to an end. Someone had a boy friend that became very jealous and made a complaint to the government. In shot order, the long arm of the law had me in their grip, not knowing what to do with me. I had done nothing to be deported for, so I was placed in a dungeon with chains, anchored to the wall and given bread and water once a day. After several months had passed, the government mad a decision. To stop the flow of mixed blood, new born children would be drowned in the Sane river and the Guillotine would be used to correct the rest of the problem.
They set a date and sharpened the blade, The day came and my neck was placed cross a block of wood with a half moon cut out of the bottom piece, A second block of wood with a matching half moon cut to go around my neck at the top. I was placed on my knees and my hands were tied behind my back. Then they waited for that magic hour to come.
Now while all of this was going on, my wife was at home in her kitchen, baking bread, She is well known for her baked bread, but this time something had gone wrong. She could not cut it with a sharp knife, and since she was going to see me beheaded, she would take a loaf with her and place it on the chopping block and when the blade fell it would cut the loaf as my head fell into a basket. But the loaf of bread slowed the blade and shattered it. Only a small part of the blade managed to touch my neck and left the scar that I have today.
The moral: Never stick your neck out in another country and love will always lead to greed and greed will cause the death of any country.
Viva La France
By; Ben R.
Nov, 28, 2011
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