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It was a very dark night when it was all over, and when I set out with Mr. Wopsle on the walk home. Beyond town, we found a heavy mist out, and it fell wet and thick. The turnpike lamp was a blur, quite out of the lamp’s usual place apparently, and its rays looked solid substance on the fog. We were noticing this, and saying how that the mist rose with a change of wind from a certain quarter of our marshes, when we came upon a man, slouching under the lee of the turnpike house.

“Halloa!” we said, stopping. “Orlick there?”

“Ah!” he answered, slouching out. “I was standing by a minute, on the chance of company.”

“You are late,” I remarked.

Orlick not unnaturally answered, “Well? And you’re late.”

“We have been,” said Mr. Wopsle, exalted with his late performance,—“we have been indulging, Mr. Orlick, in an intellectual evening.”

Old Orlick growled, as if he had nothing to say about that, and we all went on together. I asked him presently whether he had been spending his half-holiday up and down town?

“Yes,” said he, “all of it. I come in behind yourself. I didn’t see you, but I must have been pretty close behind you. By the by, the guns is going again.”

“At the Hulks?” said I.

“Ay! There’s some of the birds flown from the cages. The guns have been going since dark, about. You’ll hear one presently.”

In effect, we had not walked many yards further, when the well-remembered boom came towards us, deadened by the mist, and heavily rolled away along the low grounds by the river, as if it were pursuing and threatening the fugitives.

“A good night for cutting off in,” said Orlick. “We’d be puzzled how to bring down a jail-bird on the wing, to-night.”

The subject was a suggestive one to me, and I thought about it in silence. Mr. Wopsle, as the ill-requited uncle of the evening’s tragedy, fell to meditating aloud in his garden at Camberwell. Orlick, with his hands in his pockets, slouched heavily at my side. It was very dark, very wet, very muddy, and so we splashed along. Now and then, the sound of the signal cannon broke upon us again, and again rolled sulkily along the course of the river. I kept myself to myself and my thoughts. Mr. Wopsle died amiably at Camberwell, and exceedingly game on Bosworth Field, and in the greatest agonies at Glastonbury. Orlick sometimes growled, “Beat it out, beat it out,—Old Clem! With a clink for the stout,—Old Clem!” I thought he had been drinking, but he was not drunk.

Thus, we came to the village. The way by which we approached it took us past the Three Jolly Bargemen, which we were surprised to find—it being eleven o’clock—in a state of commotion, with the door wide open, and unwonted lights that had been hastily caught up and put down scattered about. Mr. Wopsle dropped in to ask what was the matter (surmising that a convict had been taken), but came running out in a great hurry.

“There’s something wrong,” said he, without stopping, “up at your place, Pip. Run all!”

“What is it?” I asked, keeping up with him. So did Orlick, at my side.

“I can’t quite understand. The house seems to have been violently entered when Joe Gargery was out. Supposed by convicts. Somebody has been attacked and hurt.”

We were running too fast to admit of more being said, and we made no stop until we got into our kitchen. It was full of people; the whole village was there, or in the yard; and there was a surgeon, and there was Joe, and there were a group of women, all on the floor in the midst of the kitchen. The unemployed bystanders drew back when they saw me, and so I became aware of my sister,—lying without sense or movement on the bare boards where she had been knocked down by a tremendous blow on the back of the head, dealt by some unknown hand when her face was turned towards the fire,—destined never to be on the Rampage again, while she was the wife of Joe.
End of Chapter 15, Great Expectations
 
Chapter XVI.
With my head full of George Barnwell, I was at first disposed to believe that I must have had some hand in the attack upon my sister, or at all events that as her near relation, popularly known to be under obligations to her, I was a more legitimate object of suspicion than any one else. But when, in the clearer light of next morning, I began to reconsider the matter and to hear it discussed around me on all sides, I took another view of the case, which was more reasonable.

Joe had been at the Three Jolly Bargemen, smoking his pipe, from a quarter after eight o’clock to a quarter before ten. While he was there, my sister had been seen standing at the kitchen door, and had exchanged Good Night with a farm-labourer going home. The man could not be more particular as to the time at which he saw her (he got into dense confusion when he tried to be), than that it must have been before nine. When Joe went home at five minutes before ten, he found her struck down on the floor, and promptly called in assistance. The fire had not then burnt unusually low, nor was the snuff of the candle very long; the candle, however, had been blown out.

Nothing had been taken away from any part of the house. Neither, beyond the blowing out of the candle,—which stood on a table between the door and my sister, and was behind her when she stood facing the fire and was struck,—was there any disarrangement of the kitchen, excepting such as she herself had made, in falling and bleeding. But, there was one remarkable piece of evidence on the spot. She had been struck with something blunt and heavy, on the head and spine; after the blows were dealt, something heavy had been thrown down at her with considerable violence, as she lay on her face. And on the ground beside her, when Joe picked her up, was a convict’s leg-iron which had been filed asunder.

Now, Joe, examining this iron with a smith’s eye, declared it to have been filed asunder some time ago. The hue and cry going off to the Hulks, and people coming thence to examine the iron, Joe’s opinion was corroborated. They did not undertake to say when it had left the prison-ships to which it undoubtedly had once belonged; but they claimed to know for certain that that particular manacle had not been worn by either of the two convicts who had escaped last night. Further, one of those two was already retaken, and had not freed himself of his iron.

Knowing what I knew, I set up an inference of my own here. I believed the iron to be my convict’s iron,—the iron I had seen and heard him filing at, on the marshes,—but my mind did not accuse him of having put it to its latest use. For I believed one of two other persons to have become possessed of it, and to have turned it to this cruel account. Either Orlick, or the strange man who had shown me the file.

Now, as to Orlick; he had gone to town exactly as he told us when we picked him up at the turnpike, he had been seen about town all the evening, he had been in divers companies in several public-houses, and he had come back with myself and Mr. Wopsle. There was nothing against him, save the quarrel; and my sister had quarrelled with him, and with everybody else about her, ten thousand times. As to the strange man; if he had come back for his two bank-notes there could have been no dispute about them, because my sister was fully prepared to restore them. Besides, there had been no altercation; the assailant had come in so silently and suddenly, that she had been felled before she could look round.

It was horrible to think that I had provided the weapon, however undesignedly, but I could hardly think otherwise. I suffered unspeakable trouble while I considered and reconsidered whether I should at last dissolve that spell of my childhood and tell Joe all the story. For months afterwards, I every day settled the question finally in the negative, and reopened and reargued it next morning. The contention came, after all, to this;—the secret was such an old one now, had so grown into me and become a part of myself, that I could not tear it away. In addition to the dread that, having led up to so much mischief, it would be now more likely than ever to alienate Joe from me if he believed it, I had a further restraining dread that he would not believe it, but would assort it with the fabulous dogs and veal-cutlets as a monstrous invention. However, I temporized with myself, of course—for, was I not wavering between right and wrong, when the thing is always done?—and resolved to make a full disclosure if I should see any such new occasion as a new chance of helping in the discovery of the assailant.
 
Hi, it's Vince with
Sl-Sl-Sl-Sl-Sla-Sla-Sla-Sla-ap Cho-Chop
Chop-Chop-Chop-Cho-
Cho-Cho-Cho-Cho-
Cho-Cho-Cho-Cho-
Cho-Cho-Cho-Cho—
Watch this

Hi, it's Vince with Slap Chop
You’re gonna be in a great mood all-day
'Cause you're gonna be slapping your troubles away with the Slap
Sla-Slapping your troubles away with the Slap Chop, now l—
Hi, it's Vince with Slap Chop
You’re gonna be in a great mood all-day
'Cause you're gonna be slapping your troubles away with the Slap
Sla-slapping your troubles away with the Slap Chop

Now look, here’s a potato
One slap, you get big chunks for stew
Two slaps, home fries in a second
And look at this, p— you add a mushroom
The more you do it, the finer it gets
You don’t have to switch any blades
Now you love salad
You hate making it (Sal—)
You know you hate making salad
You hate making it (Sal—)
That’s why you don’t havе any salad in your diet
Watch this, just one slap: salad
Soup, coleslaw, stuff wе want in five seconds?
Four, five seconds it's done
This thing, this tuna looks boring
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Add this tuna, putting it like this
Now you’re gonna have a nice exciting life now
Here’s a hard-boiled egg
One chop, you add the pickle
You add the green onion
And what you can do, you can mix things together
You add the ham and you’re gonna love this
You don’t have time to make breakfast?
Breakfast to go

Watch this, you're gonna love my nuts
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Your gonna watch this, watch this
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What about fruit? Put a mango
Watch this
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Look at that, isn’t that beautiful on your ice cream?
The reason you’re gonna slap away every day
Is 'cause it's so easy to clean
One, two, and pops open like that, a—
Now these other ones you’ve seen at the stores
Bacteria gets on the food, all the stores have this
You can’t clean it, you can’t open this up
It's worthless, forget about it

Now take the Slap Chop, put it back together
Put the Slap Chop right there, the sk—
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The skin's at the bottom
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The skin comes right off
The skin comes right off
The skin comes right off
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Now put a tomato in there, add your cilantro, your hot peppers right there, you—
You hit it like this-s
Hit it like this-s
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Hit it like this-s

Guys, we're gonna make America skinny again
One slap at a time, it's
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One slap at a t— one slap at a t—
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Guys, we're, guys, we're g—
—meri— one s— —meri one
Slap at a t— —lap at a t— —lap-lap-lap-lap

Hi, it's Vince with Slap Chop
You’re gonna be in a great mood all-day
'Cause you're gonna be slapping your troubles away with the Slap
Sla-Slapping your troubles away with the Slap Chop, now l—
Hi, it's Vince with Slap Chop
You’re gonna be in a great mood all-day
'Cause you're gonna be slapping your troubles away with the Slap
Sla-Slapping your troubles away with the Slap Chop, now l—

It's easy, you just got one hand, and
Chop chop chop chop chop chop chop
*Laughing*

Watch this
Tacos, fettucini, linguine, martini, bikini
 
LOOK AT THE PICTURE!!! See the skull, the part of bone removed, the "master-race" Frankenstein radio controls, the Brain-thoughts Broadcasting Radio, the Eyesight Television, the Frankenstein Earphone Radio, the Threshold Brainwash Radio, the latest new skull reforming to contain ALL Frankenstein Controls, even in THIN skulls of WHITE PEDIGREE MALES! Visible Frankenstein controls! The synthetic nerve-radio directional antennae loop! Make copies for yourself! There is NO ESCAPE from this worst gangster police state, using ALL of the deadly gangster Frankenstein controls!

In 1965, CIA gangster police BEAT ME BLOODY, dragged me IN CHAINS from Kennedy New York Airport! Since then I HIDE in forced jobless poverty, isolated alone in this low deadly niggertown old house. The brazen, deadly Gangster Police and niggerpuppet underlings spray me with POISON NERVE GAS from automobile exhausts and even lawnmowers! DEADLY ASSAULTS, even in my yard with knives, even bricks and stones, even DEADLY TOUCH TABIN or ELECTRIC SHOCK FLASHLIGHTS; even remote electronically controlled around-corners-projection of DEADLY TOUCH TARANTULA SPIDERS or even bloody-murder "accidents" to shut me up forever with a Sneak Undetectable Extermination! Even with trained parroting puppet assassins in MAXIMUM SECURITY INSANITY PRISON for writing these unforgivable TRUTHS!!

Until my undetectable extermination, I, Francis E. Dec, esq., 29 Maple Avenue, Hampstead, New York, I STAND ALONE against your mad, deadly, worldwide conspiratorial Gangster Computer God Communism with wall-to-wall deadly Gangster protection, life-long sworn conspirators, Murder Incorporated, organized crime, the police and judges, the Deadly Sneak Parroting Puppet Gangsters using all the Gangster deadly Frankenstein controls! These hangmanrope sneak deadly gangsters, the judges and the police, trick, trap, rob, wreck, butcher, and MURDER the people to keep them TERRORIZED in Gangster Frankenstein earphone radio slavery for the Communist Gangster Government and con-artist Parroting Puppet Gangster-playboy scum-on-top! The secret work of all police, in order to maintain a Communist "closed society"! The same worldwide mad deadly Communist gangster computer god that controls YOU as a terrorized Gangster Frankenstein Earphone Radio slave! Parroting Puppet, you are a terrorized member of the "MASTER RACE" worldwide 4 BILLION eye-sight television camera guinea pig Communist Gangster Computer God MASTER RACE! You're LIVING, THINKING mad, deadly worldwide Communist Gangster Computer God SECRET OVERALL PLAN: WORLDWIDE LIVING DEATH FRANKENSTEIN SLAVERY to explore and control the ENTIRE UNIVERSE with the endless "STAIRWAY TO THE STARS" - namely the manmade inside-out planets with nucleonic powered speeds MUCH faster than the speed of light! Look up and see the Gangster Computer God concocted NEW FAKE STARRY SKY! The worldwide completely controlled deadly degenerative climate and atmosphere through the new world round Translucent Exotic Gaseous Envelope which the worldwide Communist Gangster Computer God MANIPULATES through countless exactly positioned satellites; THE NEW FAKE PHONY "STARS" IN THE SYNTHETIC "SKY"!!

For AGES before Frankenstein Controls apeoidic niggers interbreedable with APES had no alphabet, not even NUMERALS! Slavery conspiracy over 300 years ago ideally tiny-brained apeoidic nigger Gangster government Eyesight TV Gangster spy cameras, Computer God New World Order DEGENERATION! When "gifted" with all Gangster Frankenstein controls, nigger deadly Gangster Parroting Puppet or niggerbrained PROGRAMMED ROBOTS DEADLY APE-FRANKENSTEIN MACHINES!! Degenerative disease to ETERNAL Frankenstein slavery!! Overall plan through "ONE WORLD COMMUNISM" (Top Secret codeword!!!) meaning "worldwide absolutely helpless-and-hopeless simple-languaged mongrel-mulatto- apeoidic NIGGERS"!!

Worldwide, systematic instant plastic surgery BUTCHERY MURDER, fake ageing so ALL people are dead or useless by age 70! Done at night to YOU as a Frankenstein slave! Parroting puppet Gangster slave, now even you know I am a MENACE to your worldwide, mad, deadly Communist Gangster Computer God! Therefore, I must go to extermination. Before I am exterminated by this gangster, Computer God concocted and controlled worst mongrel organized crime murder incorporated Gangster Communist government, I hand YOU the secrets to save the entire human race, and the entire UNIVERSE!

Donate money, or even a manual typewriter to me, FOR YOUR ONLY HOPE FOR A FUTURE!!
 
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