<strong>Moussad ~ all roped up</strong><br/><br/>Some things break thru the language barrier like a cannon ball thru a paper sack. Perhaps it was the phonetic cadence, that little bit of significantly recognizable tone and inflection skimming swiftly over a sentence full of words that made them both impossible to understand and easy to interpret.<br/><br/>Gestures by sound. It was one of those vocal gestures much like the celebrated lifting of the single middle finger in ones direction that Moussad understood succinctly. It came from the tight curved lips of his beloved desert flower as she was dingling over the sludge pit by her good ankle.<br/><br/>It could have been explained in many ways. A man, even one so obscure and foreign as Moussad, could be momentarily distracted with such shocking discloser from such a sweet tasting mouth. That could have been the reason, or perhaps there was no other reason than accident. What ever was going on above Madforson’s head it involved the rope secured around her ankle and a moment of miscalculation.<br/><br/>“Ooopsy,” Moussad remarked as the rope suddenly pulled thru his grip.<br/><br/>A oozy splash followed.   Moussad looked down.  There in the muck was an elbow and possibly the curved of her ass.<br/><br/>“You want I pull up rope again Madforson, or you looking for dah treasure at dah bottom first?”