Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2006 14:40:31 +0200
From: Harry Anders <harry@harryanders.com>
Subject: Little-Harrys-youth-9

MY FIRST BOOK 'LITTLE HARRY' IS FOR SALE...
Please buy it. It costs only $ 19.95, and it's helping lots of other people
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Copy this link into your webbrowser:
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and have a look. Thank you very much!

============================

LITTLE HARRY'S YOUTH

The end of chapter 8 said:

Dad pushed the accelerator, the engine started to hum, and we were on our
way to a foreign country.  Two minutes later we had to stop for a
roadblock. Several police officers let the cars pass one by one, carefully
looking into them. Obviously they had discovered that their little blond
haired prey had escaped. Slowly we drove into the inevitable...

The officers turned their heads and craned their necks to look into our car
and attached caravan, but all they saw were two dull looking gypsy parents
with their little dark-haired son who lowered his small head, and certainly
not a King and his blond-haired little Prince. They let us go and resumed
their watching, while we drove on as nonchalantly as we could muster.

This time I laughed loudly. Again we had outwitted those stupid police
officers!  Now we had to pass only one other bottleneck: the customs were
waiting for us...

-----------------

Chapter 9. Foreign countries, girl friends, and molested.

We followed the highway for a while, until my Dad steered our unit into a
small and nearly invisible track across a couple of bushes. He seemed to
know the way, and drove us through meadows with dull looking cows, along a
farm with a dull looking farmer, along a small stream, across a bridge that
hardly earned that name, ascended a steep hill making our engine howl,
descended the hill shimmying and now and then standing full on the brakes,
and finally stopped. He reversed our combination into a small clearing, and
drove through a stream full of hidden potholes.

The water splattered high into the air, and my Dad had to switch on the
windscreen wipers. Our car-caravan combination jumped up and down and from
left to right, until we finally left the stream and crossed a couple of
thick bushes. Suddenly we entered another highway, where we mingled among
the passing traffic and drove on as if nothing had happened...

Dad looked at Mom and me showing a smile from ear to ear:

"Okay, we have crossed the Rumanian border, and now we are in a foreign
country. We are safe."

I was totally in awe. I never knew my Dad could drive that good! And this
time we had outwitted even the customs officers...

We drove on for a while, while I looked out of the windows, trying to see
the differences between our own country and this foreign country. I really
did my utmost best, but couldn't find any differences at all.

Finally my Dad parked our combination in a secluded clearing along the
road. My Mom started to cry, and my Dad tenderly took her into his arms,
soothingly promising her that everything would be normal again within a few
months. For now we had to avoid all contacts with our own people, as those
police officers would be very angry and surely try to track us down.

My Mom blew her nose in a tissue and dried her eyes, still being a bit
shivery:

"But... why do we have to endure all those nasty things? Why can't those
gadjo people leave us alone?"

My Dad didn't know the answer, and neither did I. This had to be the most
important question: why didn't people leave others alone?

We left our car, and entered our caravan. First we had to clear away the
things that had fallen out of an open cupboard and spread out through the
kitchen and the small living room, due to the heavy shocks our poor caravan
had to endure while crossing that stream full of potholes. I helped by
stowing away all the not broken things neatly into the cupboard, sitting on
the small sink.

My Mom took a plastic 10-litre jerrycan from under the sink, and looked at
me:

"Harry, please, could you look for a nearby farm, and politely ask them for
some water?"

"Of course, Mom. You can leave that to me!"

I jumped off the sink, took the jerrycan, and left our caravan to look for
a nearby farm...  Where could I find such a farm? I didn't see any farms
along the highway, so I crossed some thick bush at the other side of the
clearing, and immediately arrived at the border of a meadow full of dull
looking cows. In a distance, across the meadow, I saw what looked like a
small farm!

I looked around for a road or path leading to that farm, but couldn't find
any. At last I ducked under the barbed wire, which fortunately didn't give
me electrical shocks, and started to walk towards the farm across the
meadow. Why not?

A few cows saw me coming, and curiously approached me. I looked at them,
and hesitated... would they be dangerous? They were HUGE, and I was only a
small runt... well, a little bit bigger since I had my growth spurt.  I
tried to avoid the cows, but now they came after me! I started to run, but
other cows approached me from everywhere, and blocked my way... What now?
Would they pin me onto their dangerous looking horns? Would this be the end
of little Harold? I didn't know what to do, and stopped.

The cows surrounded me, while I started to tremble all over and wished I
was somewhere else. Would it be a painful death? Suddenly one of the cows
approached me, sniffed at my hands with his big and wet snout, and gave
them a lick! Yuck, that was slimy! But why did that cow offer me a LICK?
Maybe he... oops, sorry, she... liked me? Would they all like me? I looked
into their shiny eyes...  A minute later I was frolicking around, playing
tag with the cows that followed me like huge puppy dogs. They weren't
dangerous at all.

I remembered my task, and went back to where I had left my empty jerrycan,
again followed by the cows. In procession we crossed the meadow, where I
ducked under the barbed wire again, leaving the cows behind mooing
disappointedly.

I went to the farm, from where a grinning peasant woman looked at me,
cleaning her hands with her apron:

"I saw you've made a couple of girl friends over there. Do you like them?"

I blushed, and politely asked her to fill my jerrycan with water.

"That jerrycan is way too big for you to carry it alone, once it's filled
with water. Where are your parents?"

"They are waiting for me along the highway, cleaning up our caravan."

"Okay, can you wait until I'm ready to accompany you to your parents?"

She disappeared into a nearby barn, and returned carrying a huge basket:

"Here, let me carry your jerrycan, and you can carry this basket. Be
careful not to jolt it."

We went to the water tap outside the house, where we waited until my
jerrycan was filled to the brim. I tried to lift it off the ground, but the
woman was right: the filled jerrycan was way too heavy for me! She laughed
again, and took the jerrycan while I took the basket.

The woman went to a place where she could lift the barbed wire off the
pickets, and we went through. We crossed the meadow, followed by the
curious puppy cows, until we both had to duck under the barbed wire
again. That is, I ducked, and she had to crawl.  We crossed the thick bush,
and there was our caravan, having my mother in the doorway looking around
and waiting for me.

"Look, Mom, at what I've found on my way. Water, a nice woman, and a
basket."

The peasant woman laughed, looked at my Mom, and offered her hand:

"It's nice to meet you, and you have a wonderful son! I've brought you
something I thought you could use while underway. Please empty the basket,
and hand it back to me when you are done."

I followed my Mom into our kitchen, where she looked with teary eyes at a
cardboard tray filled with eggs, a few heads of lettuce, and a bunch of
enormous potatoes... Not all those gadjo's are bad!

We went back, handed the basket to the nice peasant woman, and abundantly
thanked her for her help and the gifts.

I started to cook a couple of eggs, while my Mom put the lettuce and the
potatoes away. Soon we had a healthy meal, of course spiced with a couple
of tasty herbs I had cleverly brought from our camp. After the meal I went
back to the meadow, to play with my newly found girl friends until it was
too dark and they had to go to the barn to be milked.

That evening we sat around our small caravan table, and had a long talk. We
looked at the possibilities we had, until at last we decided in unison to
drive on for a couple of weeks, enjoying the opportunity to sightsee in a
couple of foreign countries. Thus it would look as if we were on a long
vacation, until we would get bored and decide to go back.

I cheered inwardly, and thanked those stupid police officers who
unwittingly offered me this splendid chance to see a bit more of the gadjo
world...

At last we set up our small caravan bed; and I crawled in between my
parents, feeling safe and loved. My Dad and my Mom both threw their arms
around me, and within a minute I was deep asleep, dreaming of my huge girl
friends that seemed to like me a lot.


The next morning we resumed our way, after enjoying breakfast with a couple
of fresh eggs. I sat in the back of our car, while my Mom rode shotgun. At
first I stared out of the windows, looking at the strange gadjo world with
all those cars-in-a-tremendous-hurry. What a way of living! Would they ever
take a rest, or play with a couple of friendly cows in a meadow?

After a while I got bored, and started to play silly games like counting
all the blue cars that passed by. Then I started to count all the cars
painted in our royal colors, black-and-gold, but that turned out to be very
boring as no car was painted that way. Finally I just counted all the
passing cars, until I lost the count and asked my Dad to stop for a moment
so that I could empty my bladder.

Now and then we stopped in a clearing or parking space to walk around a
bit, freshen up in a nearby stream, or relieve ourselves in the bushes. The
sun started to burn on the roof of our car; and my clothes started to itch,
so I wanted to get rid of them. Unfortunately my parents didn't let me...

"Where we are now, people are thinking it's a sin to show certain parts of
your body. From now on you have to wear at least a pair of trousers all the
time. If they see you naked, they could accuse us of indecent behavior and
put us in jail for a long time."

"That's crazy! I think clothes are suitable to warm you when it's cold, or
maybe to show off, but not to hide your body."

"I agree with you, but from now on we have to reckon with other people
imposing their crazy beliefs onto us..."

"Dad, I think the gadjo world isn't only a strange world, but also a crazy
world!"

I moped a bit, feeling too warm, sticky, and itchy. Why did other people
always have to tell us how to behave? Couldn't they leave us alone?  I
slumped down onto the back seat, closed my eyes, and tried to remember our
own world, where we were totally free and happy. Soon I drifted off into a
beautiful dream, where we were frolicking around naked, not hindered by
sticky clothes or crazy gadjo's with their strange habits...

"Harry, wake up. We're going to our caravan to eat and drink something. Are
you coming with us?"

I opened my eyes, and squinted at the grinning face of my Dad. I stretched
my arms out, and he tried to take me into his arms, but that turned out to
be impossible within the limited space of our car. He nearly let me slip,
and both of us started to laugh.

"I'm afraid you will have to walk on your own at least until we have left
our car."

I left the car, and now he lifted me onto his shoulders. Together we went
to our caravan, where he had to put me down to open the door.

I helped my Mom create a healthy meal, and then helped my parents devour
it. After the meal I helped with washing the dishes, and now it was time to
refill our jerrycan. I took it from under the sink, left our caravan, and
looked around...

We seemed to be in a small city, and my Dad had parked our combination
along the sidewalk. I crossed the street, and went to a shop that looked
promising, with all sorts of books and magazines exposed outside.

I approached a rather fat woman that was sitting outside on a folding
chair, and politely asked her:

"Please could you offer me some water? Our jerrycan is empty..."

She looked at me as if I had landed from another planet, and answered me
with strange sounding words I didn't understand. At first I wondered what
was happening, but then I realized we were in a foreign country, so this
had to be such a 'foreign language' my people had told me about.

I held my jerrycan in the air and shook it, hoping she would understand
what I wanted. But she shrugged, and closed her eyes in the sunlight.  I
was disappointed, and my eyes started to tear up. Immediately I dried them
with a sleeve of my shirt, afraid she would think I was a cry-baby.

Suddenly somebody called me from across the street:

"Hello, boy with that jerrycan, do you want some water? Maybe I can help
you."

A friendly looking boy of about Micha's age crossed the street and
approached me:

"I heard you asking for water, but I think that woman doesn't understand
Rumanian. Fortunately for you I was raised there. Follow me."

He went to a nearby house, and I followed him inside. This was the first
time I entered a gadjo house, and of course I was curious. Would they have
those escalator stairs? I looked around, but the only thing I saw was a
small staircase leading to the second floor. Was that all?

The boy took me to the kitchen, and put my jerrycan under the tap in the
sink:

"Are you here on a vacation? I saw your caravan..."

"Yes, we're sightseeing in a few foreign countries. In a couple of weeks we
are going back home."

"Where are you living? I was raised in a small Rumanian city, until two
years ago we moved here."

"I'm living in the mountains, in our camp in the woods."

"Huh? But... then you are a GYPSY. Only you don't look like one. All
gypsies do have dark eyes and black hair..."

"My mother is from a foreign country, and I resemble her. And please, don't
call me a bastard!"

The boy started to laugh, and threw an arm around my shoulders:

"Don't be afraid, you are amongst friends. I was only surprised."

He took the filled jerrycan from the sink, and handed it to me:

"Here you are! Do you need something else?"

I tried to lift the jerrycan and succeeded in lifting it a little bit, but
it was too heavy for my small arms to carry:

"Please, could you help me by carrying the jerrycan to our caravan?"

"Of course I will help you. I only tried not to impose too much."

The boy took our jerrycan, and together we went to our caravan. I opened
the door, and beckoned the boy in.

My Mom was busy tidying the sink, and heartily greeted the boy:

"Come in, and sit down! Thank you for helping my son with the heavy
jerrycan."

The boy grinned, and winked at me:

"Now I can see from where you got your blue eyes and blond hair."

We entered our small living room, where my Dad greeted the boy and told him
to sit down. Soon we were in a conversation, and the boy told us a couple
of things about himself. My Dad told him a few things about where we were
living, and then the boy had to go home.

My Mom accompanied him to the door, and returned into the living room:

"That was a nice boy! How did you get to know him?"

I told her about the fat woman who didn't understand our language, and
about the boy helping me out. And they had only a small staircase...  My
Dad started to laugh, and told me I would soon see more unexpected things:

"You told me there's a bookstore in the street? Let's have a look there."

Together we went to the shop, and my Dad bought me a couple of
magazines. Again I was in awe: my Dad seemed to speak the foreign language
quite well! At first the woman didn't want to take our foreign money, but
after some persuading she yielded.

On the way back to our caravan the nice boy waved at us from behind his
window, and of course we waved back. I really hoped to see him again some
day! Maybe on our way back, when we finally would go home?

We went to our car, and I nestled myself onto the backseat with the pile of
magazines on my lap, while my Dad drove off. I opened the first magazine,
and looked fascinated at all those colored pictures, being in awe and
open-mouthed. Another world opened up, totally different from the world I
knew, a colorful world full of tinsel and mock-joy. What a strange world
that was! Did those gadjo's really live like that?

"Dad, do those people really live as they are showing in those pictures?
What a strange way of living they have!"

My Dad chuckled, and shook his head:

"You will soon see even stranger things where we are going."

Now I was even more curious! What a strange world we live in... Again I sat
glued to the magazine.  For the remainder of the day I was trying to read
the stories and studying the pictures, magazine after magazine, until at
last I got bored and closed my eyes. I was tired of deciphering those
strange words in the foreign language, and dozed off.

I woke up because my Dad steered our combination into a gas station and
stopped. Of course I accompanied him to the gas pump, where my Dad showed
me how to fill our tank. With a proud face I forced the heavy and
recalcitrant hose into the tank opening, using two hands, and heard the
fuel find its way into the tank until it was filled. I put the hose back
onto the pump, while my Dad sealed the tank opening.

Together we went to the small office, where my Dad paid with his credit
card. I didn't know he had one, and asked him loads of questions about
it. He patiently explained we kept some money on a gadjo bank, and could
use it by showing that little plastic card.

"Why didn't you pay my magazines with our credit card?"

"Well, you have to use that little apparatus over there to be able to pay,
and the store owner didn't have one."

"Oh yeah..."

My bowels felt a bit full, so I supposed I had to relieve myself:

"Dad, I think I have to use a toilet. Do they have one here?"

My Dad took me outside, where he pointed to a door carrying a styled shape
of a man:

"There's a restroom for men. Do you need any help?"

I looked at him in disdain, and went to the restroom without looking
back. Ultimately I was already six years old!

I entered the restroom, and immediately the odor reminded me of my
adventure in a gadjo town when a man wanted to feel me up. I shivered, and
went into a stinking and stained stall, carefully locking the
door. Fortunately there was a roll of toilet paper attached to the wall...

I lowered my pants and squatted down over the hole in the floor, wary not
to touch anything dirty with my pants or my hands. I relieved myself,
cleaned myself with a few pieces of toilet paper, and rearranged my
clothes. That felt better!

I sighed with the relief, and unlocked the stall door. From the entrance of
the restroom a nasty looking man stared at me, his eyes reminding me of
that other man. He too looked at me as if he saw a prey... I didn't like
that look at all, and tried to pass him.

The man grinned, took a step, and blocked my way, uttering some words in
the foreign language. I didn't understand his words, but felt their energy,
and they didn't promise anything good! What now? What should I do?

I decided not to act as innocent as the last time, and asked him politely:

"Please, sir, you are in my way, and my father is waiting outside."

He didn't understand me, or he didn't care, and suddenly he grabbed my
boyhood and tried to lower my pants. OUCH, that hurt! He nearly tore it
off, and my balls started to ache. I yelped, and became very angry. That
nasty son of a bitch had to keep his hands off my private parts!  I felt
myself boiling with anger, and repeatedly kicked the man in the nuts with
all my force. He started to scream and tried to get a better hold of me,
but I wrestled myself free and bolted through the door that fortunately was
open.

I hyperventilated, and my heart pounded in my chest. For a moment the world
turned around and around, until I regained my breath. I tried to orientate
myself, still squinting and looking hazily. Where was our car? And did that
nasty man come after me?

Finally I calmed down, and looked over my shoulder. I didn't see the nasty
man, so I supposed he was still in that stinking restroom, maybe trying to
molest another innocent little boy. I had to tell my father or the station
owner as soon as possible!  I rushed to the gas pumps, rounded the corned,
and froze...  WHERE WAS OUR COMBINATION?

I looked around in despair, but didn't see our car, our caravan, or my
parents. Where were they? At the gas pump another car owner was filling his
tank, while the next car was patiently waiting for his turn...  Suddenly my
emotions overwhelmed me, and I started to cry. I felt abandoned, lonely,
and desperate. Where were my parents?

Nobody looked at me. Nobody approached me or asked me what the problem
was. Everybody was too busy with his or her own problems...  After a while
I pulled myself together, straightened my back, and dried my eyes. That
crying didn't help me at all, and I had to find my parents!

I went to the small office, and asked the attendant where my parents were.
Fortunately he understood my language quite well:

"What's the problem, little man? Are you lost?"

"My parents were waiting for me in their car and caravan, but I don't see
them any more..."

"Yeah, I saw your combination, and remember you were with your
father. Maybe they went to our parking lot, so as not to hinder the
others?"

Of course, that's what they had done! I was such a stupid little
runt... well, may be a little bit bigger, but not much...

I thanked the nice attendant, and left the office to look for the parking
lot, that had to be at the other side of the building. I rounded the
restroom keeping as much distance from the entrance as was possible, and
bumped into my Dad who was looking for me!

Again I started to cry, and buried my face in his safe and well-known
chest, while he tried to crush me with tears in his eyes:

"My precious son, where were you? Couldn't you find us after we had to park
our car?"

"There was a nasty man in the restroom, and he grabbed my balls and
terribly hurt me. But I kicked his nuts and freed myself."

Never in my life had I seen my Dad that angry. The veins on his temples
bulged, and he put me down and stormed into the restroom.  I heard him kick
open all the doors one by one, and then he reappeared, panting:

"Do you know where that man went after he molested you?"

"No, Dad, I don't have the faintest idea. Can we go to our car now, please?
I want to forget this as soon as possible."

My Mom started to cry when she saw me with my reddened eyes, and tried to
suffocate me. I had to tell her my story about being molested by a nasty
gadjo, and then I had to show them my little pecker. Now I saw it was
bluish and bruised, and my little sack looked red and swollen. My Mom
tenderly put a wet and cold washcloth onto it, and that helped a bit to
dull the aching.

I crawled onto her lap, and she comforted me:

"My little boy, what did they do to you..."

"Mom, look at the bright side. It could be worse, and within a few days the
swelling will have vanished."

"Wouldn't it be better to visit a doctor? What if you are no longer capable
of making little babies?"

"Let's wait for two days, and then have a look again. I don't think
something is damaged, it's only a bit swollen."

My parents reluctantly agreed, and I was freed from those clammy and itchy
trousers, at least for this evening...

My parents started to prepare dinner, while I nestled myself into a corner
of the couch and flipped through my magazines. Now and then my Mom looked
after my bruised pecker, and put a fresh washcloth onto it. My balls still
felt a bit sore, but my penis started to recuperate and even stiffened a
bit when my Mom touched it.  My Mom touched it again, and laughed:

"I think you will still be able to make little babies."

My Dad snickered, and told us grinning:

"Did you ever doubt such a thing?"

Dinner tasted good, given I hadn't put some herbs into it myself. My
parents decided to stay where we were until the next morning. They missed
our water bearer, that's me, and this time my Dad had to take our jerrycan
and fill it under the tap in that stinking restroom. Fortunately for him he
didn't see that nasty child molester, because he would have murdered him
using his bare hands...

After dinner we sat down on the couch, and I crawled onto my Dad's lap. He
put his big hand over my pecker and balls, and I liked it as it lowered the
pain. Now and then he looked at my bruises, and shook his head in
frustration. Finally I didn't need the washcloth any longer.

Darkness fell, and we decided to go to bed early. My parents set up the
small bed, and undressed. I only had to take off my T-shirt; and crawled in
between my parents, feeling loved and safe in their arms. The pain in my
balls slowly lessened, and at last I fell asleep...

I was in an enormous restroom, crowded with nasty looking men who tried to
block my way and grab my balls. I was desperately looking for the exit, but
couldn't find it. All the time I felt them grabbing my pecker and trying to
tear it off. I started to scream, but now they threw their arms around me
and tried to lower my pants. I tried to kick them in their nuts with all my
force, but they didn't let me go...

Finally I was dead tired, couldn't fight them any longer, and gave up.  Now
they started to caress me tenderly, and told me:

"Easy, my precious boy; just let it go. You had a nightmare, but it's over
now and everything is well. Close your eyes, and go to sleep again."

I was too tired to do anything else, and fell into a deep and dreamless
sleep for the remainder of the night.

The next morning my Dad had a black eye, and my Mom had several bruises all
over her body. Fortunately they didn't hate me!

"It wasn't your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. It's all the fault
of that child molester. I hope he will comprehend sometime what he was
doing."

My little penis looked less bruised, and the swelling of my sack had
lessened. I asked my parents to allow me to be naked this day, but they
told me again that the police would arrest them and put them in jail the
very moment they saw me without any clothes.

"Then you will have to live on your own, and probably they will put you
into a juvenile home."

Of course I didn't want that, so I dressed reluctantly into my blue jeans
and a nice yellow T-shirt, still moping a little bit.

I helped my Mom prepare our breakfast, and after cleaning the cutlery we
moved to our car and drove off, to discover more of that strange gadjo
world. I resumed my place in the back of our car, and killed the time by
looking around and flipping through my magazines. Now and then we stopped
to be able to stretch our backs and take a leak.

Slowly the environment started to change. The forests looked different,
filled with another variety of trees and bushes. The hills disappeared, and
the land became more levelled. It looked like there was more traffic on the
road, and more farms and factory plants showed up. Too soon I got used to
the new and constantly changing gadjo world we were in now, and again I
started to be a bit bored.

We approached the border to the next country, and that made me a bit
nervous. Would the customs be looking for us? My hair was blond again, so
chance was they would recognize me and deliver us to the customs or police
in our own country. Fortunately they didn't even look at me, as they were
too busy looking at our passports and asking from where we came and where
we went.

"We've inherited a small amount of money, and now we are on a sightsee-trip
through a few countries. We will be back within a few weeks."

"Well, everything seems to be in order. Have a good day, and enjoy your
trip!"

I sighed with relief, and popped up from in between the seats. Again we had
beaten the customs!

My parents had assigned me the job of water bearer. They were a bit wary to
approach strangers themselves, as not everybody liked gypsies. Fortunately
most people did like blue-eyed little children with light brownish hair and
a captivating smile...

Many times nice people helped me carry our filled-to-the-brim jerrycan, to
be severely shocked when they discovered my parents were gypsies and we
lived in a small caravan attached to an old car. Some of them started to
stutter and fled as soon as they had put our jerrycan down, others were
more curious about where we came from and where we were heading. My parents
always abundantly thanked them and told them we were on a sightseeing
vacation after we inherited a small sum of money. Why not?

Mostly the language was a barrier, as we were in a foreign country and not
everybody spoke our native language. Soon I was very good at pointing out
things, or 'talking' with my hands and my eyes. When they really didn't
understand me, I took their hands and dragged them to where I needed
them. Never in my life did people ruffle my hair so much as during our
'vacation', and I loved it! I still do...

Now and then I could understand them nevertheless. I listened to their
words, and felt the energy the words represented. I also seemed to pick up
those foreign words very fast, and my Dad proudly told me I had 'a knack
for languages'. Of course he had to explain what he meant with that...

Most nights we parked our combination in a secluded spot, or sometimes we
drove somewhere into the woods. Now and then we were in a town and parked
our caravan in a big parking lot, but nearly always some police officer
showed up, preferably in the middle of the night, and chased us
away. Sleeping in our caravan was not allowed outside a camping site, so we
had to drive on. Funny people, those gadjo's...


============================

Thank you for reading this chapter of 'Little Harry's youth'.

My FIRST book, 'Little Harry', is for sale! It costs only $ 19.95 ...
Please visit my homepage  http://www.harryanders.com
and buy it. It's helping lots of people to cope with their feelings!


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certainly read them all! 


I wish you lots of Love in your life, and Peace in your heart.
And thank you, Nifty, for hosting my stories.

Harry AnderS, alternative writer.
I'm living in The Netherlands, and my native language is Dutch.
Please have a look at my site  http://www.harryanders.com
or send me and email at  mailto:harry@harryanders.com