Here is another manifestation of his Saturn squaring my Mars Mercury.

I want to write (Mercury) about a soldier (Mars). His Saturn comes down like a parent warning me my actions have consequences.

“I was talking to a pal the other day, she’s an astrologer,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And she has this new technique she’s playing with. And she was messing with your chart, and she thinks you’re going to be famous.”

“Famous?” He sounded activated. “What do you mean, famous? Famous for what?”

“Because of something I write about you. She thinks I’ll write about you and I am pretty sure I will. And then people will know who you are and what you’ve done. You know. They’ll know about you. What you’ve done will be recorded. She’s probably right, too. She’s not some kind of lousy astrologer. She’s accomplished.”

“Well she better not be right. I better not become famous,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to be famous. I’m not cut out for being famous. P, if I’m famous I’m going to have to have to kill people, do you realize this?”

“Kill people?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to kill people for sure. The first person who tries to bother me, I’m going to have to shoot them and I absolutely will. As soon as they step foot on my property, they’ll be dead.”

He went on to tell me what gun he would use and where he would perch. Or hide. Or whatever it is he’s going to do.

“Yep. I wouldn’t be a good idea for me to be famous. Because I will definitely shoot anyone who comes around and thinks they’re going to bother me or chat with me or anything else. I don’t want to be bothered and I didn’t ask to be bothered so you better not bother me.”

“So you mean if I want to come over, I am going to have to step over a bunch of bodies? Is this what you mean? There’ll be dead bodies lying all over in the front of your house? Just lying around and I step through them like a minefield?”

“Nooo,” he said, drawing it out as if I were ridiculous. “There won’t be a bunch of ‘em, P. They’ll be some bodies but just a couple. They’ll be few at the most.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. But there won’t be a lot of bodies so don’t worry about that. I’m only going to have to shoot a couple and the word’ll get out, I’m sure.”

He chuckled and so did I.

“I see. So you mean if I write about you, people will die?”

“No. You can write about me. I just better not get famous from it and if I do get famous people better not bother me. No one better show up here trying to talk to me or ask me any questions. If I didn’t invite you then don’t show up. Unless you want to die, that is. Then come on over. But if I didn’t invite you, then you’re not welcome. Especially if you are any kind of reporter or any other kind of nosy person.”

“I see. Okay. So if I do write, I’ll warn them. How about that? I’ll say, don’t go there! Don’t try talk to him, or write to him. Don’t even try or he will kill you, for sure. He’ll shoot you right in the head, and that’ll be it. One bullet, down you’ll go! How’s that? Do I understand you? Do I have this right?”

“You do.”

“Okay then. I’ll keep this in mind and if it ever becomes and issue, I’ll handle it. Or I’ll try to.”

“Good, P. You handle it and you can’t, then don’t worry because I will.”

skip to Hiding in Plain Sight…