BRAND NEW and LOWEST PRICE ON EBAY!!! You are bidding on a set of FIFTY (50) double jeweled belly bars. You will receive a mixture of our most popular colors as shown in the image! .. You will receive the exact colors in the picture as this picture was taken by us of the lots we have in stock right now. You WILL receive duplicates as this is a lot meant for resellers - they are mixed randomly. Each double jeweled belly ring is crafted in 316L surgical stainless steel. The curved barbell is a standard 14 gauge (1.6mm) and 11mm in length. The top jewel ball is 5mm and the bottom is 8mm. The stones are pressure set so you will never have to worry about the stones coming unglued... there is no glue used!

XXIV
THE INTERROGATION

Whether it was because the old man harbored the cryptic title of an all seeing Wezz, or simply because he’d known him for so damn long, Art wasn’t the least bit surprised to discover Baptiste, waiting at the front porch of his domicile with three chilled glasses of sweetened iced tea at the ready, the moment they had closed enough range to make proper identification. When he’d rounded the final corner leading into the dilapidated cul-de-sac, that had once been the pride and joy of the more higher ups of Crate Steam, back in its hustle and bustle hay days, Art wasn’t entirely sure if what he was looking at was yet another stained marble statue, the crazy old Wezz had taken custody of in order to add to his already sizable collection, or the old man himself. It had only taken a few more steps closer for Art to fully realize that it was in fact Baptiste, and what is was he had in holding, was not only cool, but thirst quenching as well. Just how Baptiste had known Art would not be traveling alone was anybodies guys, and one based solely by the look on Baptist’s face, was a question he had no intention of asking. Clearly there had been no mention of Felix or Levy accompanying him for his visit, and as near as he could tell no one else appeared to be in attendance either. No of course not, what a ridicules idea. It was standard for Baptiste to allow a quarterly visit from the Alliance magistrate, but beyond that he rarely if ever allowed for any other audience. The exception of course being Art, who for the life of him had never truly understood why. Never the less, there he was, the old man Baptiste, standing proudly at the front porch, with a broad yet firm grin spread across the whole of his antiquated and wrinkled face. A twinkle of exuberance in his typically dull gray eye’s cut through the distance between them, as he eagerly awaiting the companionship of his estranged friend, Artimus Flanigan, as well as two apparent beggars nipping rigidly just a single foot steps behind his shoeless heel.
Having reached it’s zenith sometime ago, the sun was sagging lazily on the western horizon, casting an eerie crimson haze onto the landscape. The haze suggested night fall was soon coming, and meandering out in the open air after night fall was a far less desirable idea then Art wanted to think about. As near as Art could figure it had taken them a little over three and a half hours to make their way across the whole of Crate Steam, opting to fallow the Sere road far out beyond Precipice Ally, and it’s untold dangers, in place of the longer yet far safer thoroughfare. It had saved them the unwanted attention of a dance with the troubles, but clearly they had paid with the price of missing their appointment with Beans, and the berthed Yakie Z-31, he assembly had ready and waiting for them. It also suggested that several more hours would pass before Art once again found himself parading his delicate person about the city streets, as he had no intention of attempting to traverse Crate Steam’s questionable streets and slummy back ways in the dark. Being the focal point of the operation, Art had to figure that on time or not, the remaining crew would not go on without him whether he had any real part in the operations beyond being it’s architect or not. Besides, Felix was not in attendance either, and surely they would not be moving on without the likes of him. It wasn’t something Art wanted to ponder on to deeply at the moment. He had other more dilapidating here and now concerns to address, and right then, for all he cared. Beans would just have to figure out new and creative ways of fucking himself, while he waited for such a time as Art was capable of crossing town yet again, in order to finally make the ronde vu with the rest of the crew in the ship yards.
In fact, once Art had confirmed with himself that indeed what he was looking at was without an inkling of doubt, Baptiste, standing loftily on the porch, all of his thoughts became focused on the cool glass’s of sweetened iced tea, the old man had waiting for them. That and the spare change of clothe he had stowed away in the back wardrobe of what Baptiste called his “Collection room”, and possibly a useful pair of shoes. Clean wears, Art thought to himself. Perhaps even a shower, and finally something to eat. And with that, despite the lack of a left shoe, Art increased the rate of his ambulation, almost doubling his pace into a clumsy rhythmless speed walk. Behind him he heard Felix mumble something, and a response from Levy in the sharp shape of a hasty toned “Fuck you”, but it really didn’t matter. He was thirsty, hungry, and as far as he was concerned, smelled worse then something that had come out of the south end of a north bound outer rim fright hub whore. A moment later, and Art was standing at the foot of Baptiste’s porch, looking as pathetic as an old Earth transient and eye balling the glasses of s

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen, 8 October 1917 - March, 1918

In memory of my Great-Grandfather Sargeant John James of the 1st North Staffs Regiment who was gassed on the Somme. He survived the war but had terrible problems after the war.