When the day arrived I helped her pack and we were set to leave for the airport. Just when the bell rang and standing at the door the was the guy who ...leans my car Santosh. Now let me describe Santosh he was your average Marathi middle aged man, maybe around his late 40s if I may guess. Grey hair, with a bald patch white scruffy stubble, an evident pot belly and around 5’5 in height. Santosh had come for his salary. In the hurry, we were in I casually told him to come in the evening to collect. He watched and saw a head appear above the wall, a body flattening itself on the top. Then, the hook which is what had drawn his attention was reversed and a rope came slithering down to the garden.Ariston moved like a shadow to the base of the wall. A small figure came shinnying down the rope, lightly touching the stones. As the intruder started to look around, he felt the razor sharp edge of Ariston's sword pressing against his throat."Don't move," Ariston commanded. The intruder froze. A. San finish his garden and he’ll teach you Karate.Helping with the garden I didn’t mind at all. I would have agreed to do that no matter what. But the Karate thing, I just didn’t want to do. I quizzed mom, after we left, over and over trying to find out when the conversation turned to me taking Karate. All she really ever said was, “We were just talking.” *****Peter dropped by the next day. He gave me a Gi: a Karate uniform consisting of pants, jacket, and belt. When I said, Thank you,. I thought she’d bitch but she stuck her dainty little ass over a hole we dug with our hands and squeezed out a tiny little turd.The smell turned my stomach and reminded of the awful breakfast I had. The good news was that Jessie let us eat some plain oatmeal with actual food in it. The campground provided a breakfast buffet but it wasn’t for slaves and submissives.We received true left-overs; bacon gristle and bits of stale biscuits crumbled into a stainless steel bowl, with some water. Jessie.