nimble invasion then timeless occupation
to the bloated victorious the spoils of war
bars of gold, works of art, champagne and any fine lady
more of the same, more of the same, then some more
It irked her that, surprisingly, his wallet was empty. Yet by way of fortunate recompense, the street wise working girl had had the foresight to steal the cavalry jackboots from the fetid feet of the soft bellied general lying there in a schnapps induced drunken stupor, snoring away like the fat pig he was.
She had heard tell that southeast of The Alps and faraway there was a place prone to the occasional earthquake, where the locals ate seafood, made their own fresh spaghetti, drunk white wines aplenty and paddled in the warm enclosed ocean as and when the fancy took. Also, she understood that the sun always shone there. Certainly, the Quartier Pigalle did not feel like home presently, and when word got out regarding her theft there would be hell to pay if she stayed put. It was clear she should leave the city without delay.
She determined that such a land as she had learned of would make for a perfect getaway save for the fact that she had not the official papers granting her leave of travel, and regardless she had not sufficient money for the train fare. Still, upon reflection and notwithstanding the potential for blizzards at high altitudes she could travel by foot. After all, the stolen cavalry jackboots looked to be expensive and as good as new and would serve her well on her long and, as an alpinist devotee had once made mention of, potentially treacherous journey. Moreover, it was somewhat fortuitous and perhaps a good omen that she shared the same shoe size as the previous incumbent of the boots. Indeed, having given them a trial she had concluded that they rather suited her, especially so when undressed for work. Additionally, in terms of marketing her exclusive services to all of mankind her new best ‘up to the thigh’ footwear would, she had little doubt, tickle the fetish fantasy of many a red-blooded businessman or give a delightful twist on comfort’s take for any lonely soldier boy.
From the evidence of his wallet, it was a given that the slumbering, lumbering general plainly had no intent in paying her for both time and body. So, for good measure she stole his pistol also, then tied his feet together in case he awoke in order that she could safely make good her exit. It was thus that she followed in Hannibal’s footsteps across the mountain range only pausing to pick edelweiss and nibble upon rye-breads and strange looking cheese with holes in it gifted to her by grateful goat herders and yodellers in traditional garb she had fallen across along the way. She had a tendency in that regard.
However, as is inevitably the case when the rabid untamed beasts of war are on the rampage and home grown heroes still wear short trousers, when she reached rainbows end all she found was another city of the vanquished. A place where there was little need for the all-conquering to transact with the oft times timid, sometimes impulsive, now neutered populous. Yet by way of trading subjugation and subordination for blindfolds and sweet promises she found she made an income better than most others. Her thieved cavalry jackboots and her realization of wild fetishes served her well…and, at least the sun shone all the time.