"Turns out by the time I stabbed Murphy you had already poisoned him, so I was let off with a warning."

"You're supposed to be the holy one, padre! What about Thou shalt not kill?"

"Technically speaking, I didn't. You did."

"But I'm safe because of the seal of confessional, right? You can't divulge anything I said while I was in here."

"Nary a word shall pass these lips, you may rest assured."

"Whew, that's a relief."

"You may, however, wish to take a moment to consult with the police sergeant standing outside with his ear pressed against the door."

I've heard about this place - this lush tropical island state that got rid of their military - but I didn't believe it; actually, as I remember, I smirked when a couple of my work friends told me about it. Now, I was here, and it was exactly as they described: no military, no guns, and everything goes as usual. They go to work, they go home, they go shopping, and that's pretty much it. They seem happy, but I don't know for sure, I haven't really had the time to speak with the natives.

As I understood, this small population had an agreement, some kind of legal document that stated some rules, and everybody had to sign it. Visitors and tourists had to sign it too. Basically, the document stated that if you break the rules, you die by drowning. There are a ton of rules, hundreds, and it is wise to read them before signing. I didn't read them. Now I'm going to drown, and I don't even know why.

Mary had a little lamb

With mashed potatoes gravy and peas

But every time she dined on lamb

The lamb would make her sneeze!

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater

Had a wife but wouldn’t feed her

He kept her in a pumpkin shell

Where there she lived captive in her private hell

Sticks and stones can break my bones

But my words will never rhyme

I really try to make it work

But it doesn’t all the time

Roses are red

Violets are blue

But these still don’t work

So what should I do?

Fee fye pho fum

I smell the blood of an Englishmen

Be he alive or if he is hurt

I wonder would mind if I steal his shirt?

Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle

The cow jumped with grace sublime

But then she tripped and broke her neck

Now she’s pot roast before her time

Little Ms. Muffet sat on her tuffet

Eating some Kurds and whey

The Kurdistan cannibal as she became known

From over a cuckoos nest she had flown

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe

With so many little children

Since she was one easy screw

She attracted many suitors

Who stuck to her like glue

So she cooked them all up

Into a savory Irish stew

Peas porridge hot

Peas porridge cold

Peas porridge in a poisoned pot

Nine months old

Some like it spicy hot

But it’s tastier served cold

Others like it in the pot

When it’s really rather old

With a green slimy mold

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty answered the call

He pulled down his pants

Then cracked open his shell

Out popped a brown yoke

That stank to high hell!

...to be continued.

(c) BAM