three robbers

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What have these Sphinxes seen? by Babis Kavvadias
Via Flickr:
Byron mentioned this incident in one of his letters: “The day before I left Rome (30/05/1817) I saw three robbers guillotined. The ceremony — including the masqued priests; the half-naked executioners; the bandaged criminals; the black Christ and his banner; the scaffold; the soldiery; the slow procession, and the quick rattle and heavy fall of the axe; the splash of the blood, and the ghastliness of the exposed heads — is altogether more impressive than the vulgar and ungentlemanly dirty ‘new drop’, and dog-like agony of infliction upon the sufferers of the English sentence. Two of these men behaved calmly enough, but the first of the three died with great terror and reluctance, which was very horrible. He would not lie down; then his neck was too large for the aperture, and the priest was obliged to drown his exclamations by still louder exhortations. The head was off before the eye could trace the blow; but from an attempt to draw back the head, notwithstanding it was held forward by the hair, the first head was cut off close to the ears: the other two were taken off more cleanly. It is better than the oriental way, and (I should think) than the axe of our ancestors. The pain seems little; and yet the effect to the spectator, and the preparation to the criminal, are very striking and chilling. The first turned me quite hot and thirsty, and made me shake so that I could hardly hold the opera-glass (I was close, but determined to see, as one should, see every thing, once, with attention); the second and third (which shows how dreadfully soon things grow indifferent), I am ashamed to say, had no effect on me as a horror, though I would have saved them if I could.” According to the notes of executioner Mastro Titta, the three criminals “‘decapitati’ al Popolo, per omicidi e grassazioni” this day were Giovanni Francesco Trani, Felice Rocchi and Felice De Simoni.

2

Gritting your teeth, you extend your hands out in front of you and the water from your pouches whips forward, wrapping around the three robbers’ legs as the Flash keeps them distracted. Closing your hands into fists, the water freezes, and they fall to the ground, cursing.

The Flash runs up to you. “Nice job, water.”

You blink in surprise at the sound of his voice with out it changed, but smile at the nickname (he always called you by the element you used that night). “Thanks, you aren’t so bad your self.”

“So, I have a question for you.” The vigilante says, making you cock your head, curious. “You’ve already helped me and my team out multiple times, so how would you like to be my partner?”

Closing your eyes, you consider it, melting the robbers’ legs as the police take them away. “Would I be able to know who you are?”

“Yes.” He replies, chuckling a little bit. “Would I know yours?”

“Yes.”

He smiles and extends his gloved hand. “So?”

Smiling back, you take his hand. “Deal.”

3. Back rubs/massages.

Iris makes some offhand comment over texts about how her shoulders are like rocks from working for so long. She honestly doesn’t expect anything of it, but then Barry is there and he’s helping her sleeves lower on her arms before his hands start to vibrate along her skin.

It startles her, but there’s no one else in this late and she sighs in relief, “Slow night?”

Well,” Barry tilts his head to the side, “Not really. I caught three robbers, put out a couple fires, saved six people from a big pile up, got a cat out of a tree… but I needed a break.”

“This doesn’t really qualify as a break, Barry Allen. A break is when you stop helping people.”

He leans down and kisses her cheek, “A break is any time I get to spend with you, Ms. West.”

The story how my 88-year-old aunt scared away three robbers

So my great-great-aunt is an 88-year-old woman, who is barely 1.50m tall, is nearly blind and needs a cane to move around. One day earlier this year, three young guys forced their way into her flat, when someone was leaving. She took her money and hid in her kitchen. The three young men were roaming around her flat, searching for money, opening cupboards, looking into her stuff, etc. When they passed by the kitchen door my aunt just screamed at them: “Well, didn’t find anything? Then you better fuck off. Don’t look at me like that. Leave my flat!” She scared the shit out of them and they left immediately. Afterwards she called the police. 

Until now she didn’t tell anyone in the family, because she doesn’t want any of us to make a fuss. She might be old, but she can certainly fight her battles for herself. She’s a force to be reckoned with. Needless to say that everyone in our family does exactly as she says.

I want to be as badass as she is, when I am that age. Hell, I’d love to have just a pinch of her courage right now.

Hey hivemind!

Help us out – we’ve been pondering this one for a week and are no closer to an answer:

My almost 3-yr-old loves The 3 Robbers by Tomi Ungerer. He’s obsessed w/ Tiffany’s wicked aunt who is only mentioned, never on-the-page. Any great (& not obvious) kids’ books about wicked aunts? (Or can you write a prequel to The Three Robbers about Tiffany’s sad life pre-robbers?) Thanks!

Anyone? Bueller?