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They caught her on a technicality. They needed a Whatnot, a Befoe God to guard against; a border and a fence between What and Whatnot - a Wall.

Walled-in was a particular gruesome partaking, as found in Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado". Was it a possibility ? Would take some really bad people. Did I know anyone like that ? Big bad world. "Don't go out there" - was the woman's cry. Heman Hilldebrain always went anyway. He had to prove it. And he prevailed, not because he had the sense of cemetery, but because the bad guys couldn't shoot-straight, a particularly ancillary articulation for gun-slingers. Where did they get their license ? Oh none required - that's why they have guns. They were a stupid lot, as could be found in the dull-dumbs of crime-clip films.

It's called the Pretection Racket. She was a bad seed and a Beatallmaniac. Now it was up to Him to save the day. He must provide a solution salve. His must become seminary seed. He must have a son. God the father. Fatherland. Am I up for that, and never before married ? Naw - I'm too old. I'll get a surrogate. Will give them Surrogate Seed, the seed of believe. We guarantee it. You will get what you pray for. So they gave the job to a woman, the dirty-work to the double-crosser. It's a woman's job. She insures delivery, a deliberate stable of fine courses. A biblical-baby, not a Blabamoan. A stork full. Its the passing of the magic seed, a pass-over flyby. That's the Holy Grail, the Godspeed seed. And for her trouble, she got the Assumption.

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