RETARD VEGAS

2007-07-07T01:41:00.000+01:00

v=XiFrfeJ8dKM">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiFrfeJ8dKM

Rabid Elephants II

2007-05-19T20:01:00.000+01:00

I watch my contacts facial expression change from shock to disgust as he drinks his first mouthful of beer. For a moment it looks like he is going to spit it out but he manages to swallow and then pushing the glass a little further from himself, he turns to me.
“So, how’s your end going to come?”
This is it, the question which has replaced nice to meet you or how are you. One of the many questions in this world of paranoia and fear which I hate to hear. I will answer that I don’t know, he will call me crazy for not finding out, start shouting that it could happen at any minute and say that he doesn’t want to hang around to find out. But I need this job so I think back to something the barman said earlier turn to him and say.
“Rabid Elephants. How about you?”
“Shit, what’s the chance of meeting a rabid elephant. Still I’d stay away from the peanuts if I was you. Mine is ‘Birds’. Can you believe that shit, at any time a fuckin blue tit could fly into my eye and that’s it game over. I’m Bob by the way John said you were alright but the real test was how you were going to die. Looks like you’re in.”
John was the mutual friend who had set up this meeting, he was a good guy but spent a bit too much time hanging around with the wrong people. He had shown me a picture of my contact and given me the name of the bar in which I was now sitting.
“What do you mean ‘the real test was how you were going to die’?” I ask relieved that it seem like I had the job but not sure why.
“Well your part of the job is mainly lookout which means almost anyone can do it but we want to make sure the way you died is not some thing which is too closely linked to someone else’s or with the job. Like if you had said ‘shiny objects’ then me and you could have been killed by magpies. Or because some of the job is under ground if you had said ‘cave in’ there’s no way you were coming.”
“Ok so what’s the job?” I ask, feeling a little guilty that for all I know ‘talking to Bob’ is how it will end for me.
“You’ll be filled in later. Here is the address, be there at 12 midnight tomorrow and make sure your on time.”
“Relax,” I say “I’m never late.”

12.15, I arrive at the address given to me. I had stopped at a bar on the way over for some Dutch courage but unfortunately they only served Russian courage. So 8 vodka’s later I was a little unsteady on my feet but ready for what ever job I was about to get. I had heard an odd story earlier that day apparently the owner of the bar I was in yesterday had died in a fire.
‘Well,’ I thought, ‘I guess the machine is not always right. And I guess my new friend Bob can stop worrying that some day he will be walking down a dark alley when big bird and his mates will appear and beat him to death.’
I walk through the open door of the abandoned building and immediately saw Bob standing beside a table in the middle of the room. He was looking into the corner rafters of the warehouse. No doubt searching for the birds which would one day be the death of him.
“Your late!” he said without taking his eyes off the rafters.
“Traffic” I said.
I noticed a second man who had entered the building from another door.
“What traffic?” said the second man, “The reason we picked this place was to be as far from other people as possible.”
“Ya well I expected there would be traffic and over compensated.”
The second man just stood there staring at me.
“R-I-G-H-T. Anyway I’m here now so let’s get this over with.” I said a little unnerved by the fact that a complete stranger was standing in front of me staring at me without saying anything.
“Bob, what the fuck is this? What were you thinking bringing this jack ass in on this job?” said the second man to Bob.
“Rabid Elephants, Steve, Rabid elephants. He is just another insurance policy.” Said Bob turning his attention from the corner and on to me for the first time.
“I’d rather act like a jack ass than look like one Steve.” I said looking at the man who Bob had referred to as Steve.
Steve ignored this and turned back to Bob.
“How many of these clowns do we need? Isn’t Alan enough? Do I really need to put up with this shit too?”
“When you’re doing a bank job and the way you die is ‘dynamite’ you need all the help you can get.” Said Bob who picked something up from the table and walked towards me.
“So…. We’re doing a bank job then?” I asked still feeling the effects of the vodka.
“‘WE,’ aren’t doing shit. Bob and I are doing a bank Job you and that other shit are just watching. Where the hell is he anyway.”
“He’ll meet us there with the plastic explosive, don’t worry.” Said Bob who was now standing in front of me. “Here.” He said handing me a hand gun.
“I thought I was on look out?” I said checking if the gun was loaded.
“You are” Bob said with a smile on his face, “and if you see anyone while on lookout shoot them in the head. Now get in the car we are ready to go.”
“As long as he doesn’t shoot himself in the foot first.” Said Steve as he got into the drivers seat.

Cast Away

2007-04-25T12:02:00.000+01:00

They have forgotten more than you know.

On Saturdays I take pieces of furniture from the house and place them in the fire. Chairs, coffee tables and picture frames. It’s hard to describe the pleasure I feel seeing them change shape and shrivel in the flames. It’s like a cold wind blowing through my soul. I’ve discovered that different materials produce different colored flames. Sometimes, I pour white spirits on the furniture as it burns, to increase the effect. Sometimes a small slow burn feels better.

Recently, the latisimuss dorsal muscles of my back have offended me. They seem to have forgotten their training. It is my opinion that my lats may have forgotten more than a man will know in his entire lifetime. I have placed my lats under investigation. My lats are the subject of an internal tribunal chaired by clever lats.The tribunal will come to a unanimous and overwhelming verdict. The muscles of my mid back will be found guilty of high treason. My lats shall be banished into exile and replaced through the miracle of lat transplant surgery.

I once had a dream that I was Tom Hank’s bicep muscles in the film Cast Away. At the start of the film I am neglected, ignored and overweight. After the plane crash, as Tom learns to survive through a number of trails and tribulations, I too wrestle with my demons, becoming stronger and more focused, ultimately making fire to burn the parts of my psyche I no longer need. Of all the bicep muscles that have appeared in Hollywood movies down through the years none have spoken to me with such honesty and dignity. They tell me things I never knew about myself. They show me how to forget myself. They show me how to remember what counts…………

How can you ask me now to surrender my spear and return to the world ……… you who have taught me how to kill for survival, how to hunt another living creature, how to defecate out of doorways!

The latisimuss dorsal muscles of the mid back have little or no memory of an empty house that was once inhabited by real people. No recollection of a bust up refrigerator resembling a Dadaist installation. They cannot recall that the refrigerator door has been ripped off its hinges and inserted in the wall space behind. They may choose to forget that the sides of the refrigerator have sustained a number of heavy blows from a blunt object. They may ask if a clear attempt has really been made to light a fire inside……… even though they were there.

I find it peculiar to think that Hanks had to resort to talking to a volley ball head instead of conversing with the living, intelligent muscles of his own body. Surely the pectoral muscles of the chest and the tricep and bicep muscles of the arm make the best companions. It could be argued that existence itself is nothing more than a continuous conversation between the brain and these muscle groups, the muscles effectively becoming an extension of our own personality and mental make up. The triceps, biceps and pecks have replaced the eyes as the real windows of the soul.

I believe my ex lats are living in the attic. I believe this because I can hear them watching Dr Phil on the old 15 inch television I put up there in a box last spring. There is no tv remote which means channels must be changed manually.
From a window in the attic, the lats look down on the roofs of the adjoining buildings. The sun is reflecting off roof tiles and aerial steel.

As they work the biceps try to compare things which are by their nature incomparable. The authorities warn against comparing things directly. The biceps recall a conversation they have heard or a piece of furniture they’ve seen or some idea that occurred to them sitting on the toilet at three in the morning.

The biceps don't watch TV in the traditional sense. It’s just another piece of furniture, another tool, muted sound and marginal awareness of moving pictures in the time between sets of preacher curls and press ups. The biceps are active, moving and alert. If they sit still they’ll fall into a deep sleep from which they’ll never punch their way out. They would forget what we have become together.

Forget what is unimportant

She had a small birth mark on her neck, beneath her left ear. We sat on a black leather couch watching wildlife documentaries and ultimate fighter. Her fingers were small and stumpy and she smelled like cigarettes .I tolerated her weaknesses. I tolerated her strengths. I was relieved when she left. Although I felt released, I wonder now what color flame she could have made in my fire.

In the evenings I rearrange at random the insides of my desktop computer. I don’t miss the internet. I usually just ended up on Amazon, looking up albums I will never buy. I liked reading the reviews that customers had written for the albums. I preferred reading the reviews than listening to the 30 second song samples. I preferred to hear about what the songs meant to total strangers than finding out if they could mean anything to me. Sometimes the reviewers told a story or anecdote about when they first heard a particular song or album. I liked those stories.

Live now, live at all costs

When your airplane crashes in the ocean it changes you mentally. Sometimes you die, other times you live, but no one survives the crash. No one’s mind escapes intact whether it’s a physical or mental crash. The smell of death stays with you. You wash your underwear but the smell is under your skin, in your brain.

In reality, there’s no way Hanks would have sought out his wife after he got off that island. He would have blanked her. He would have spat in her face. He would have gone home and gathered together his furniture. He would have made a fire.

"Out of Africa"

2007-04-16T20:51:00.000+01:00

Rabid Elephants

2007-04-04T22:05:00.000+01:00

Ok normally I don’t feel the need to insult your intelligence with an introduction, but fuck it.
This was the start of my story for Machine of Death. Due to extreme laziness and an unwillingness to finish anything, I am shortening it into a post and I will throw on an ending when I get time. Most likely involving Monkeys putting socks into toasters.

I take a mouth full of beer and decide against doing that again, it tastes like what I always imagined battery acid tastes like. And from the feeling in my stomach it was having a similar effect. As my eyes scan the room I think, ‘This is it, I always knew I would reach rock bottom some day and that day has finally arrived’. I was sitting in the worst shit hole bar in the worst part of town waiting for a guy I barely knew to give me a job. It wasn’t just my life that was falling apart, things were getting worse by the day for everyone. Paranoia was at an all time high, suicide and murder were everyday occurrences. Very little surprised anyone any more and it doesn’t look like getting better any time soon.

When I walked into the bar earlier, a body was being carried out.
‘Trouble?’ I asked the bar man who was cleaning a pint glass.
“Guy offered Jonny a peanut, Jonny freaked out, Jonny knifed the guy.” Said the bar man without even looking at me.
“Harsh” I said, “I know some people are allergic but that’s going a bit far aint it?”
“Huh!” grunted the bar man “Jonny hates peanuts cos elephants like peanuts. Jonny hates elephants cos that damn machine told Jonny his death would be cause by elephants. Now Jonny is going to the electric chair cos Jonny stabbed a guy who had peanuts which Jonny thought would attract Elephants.” The barman paused to pick up another glass. “Jonny was an idiot everyone knows that the only was to beat the machine is to surround yourself with what ever it says. Take me for instance 10 years ago I got a slip of paper that said ‘alcohol’. I walked straight out and bought this bar, haven’t been sick a day since. Machine don’t know how to handle it if you do that. Once Jonny saw elephant on that bit of paper he should have moved into a zoo. Sure one day a rabid elephant might maul him but I doubt it.”
“Ah…. Ya, makes sense I guess,” I said a little confused by the logic or lack there of, “So how’s the beer?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.
The bar man looked at me for the first time, smiled and said, “Best in Town.”

Back in the present I still couldn’t get over how many times the bar man had said ‘Jonny’. Man that was annoying, still not as annoying as that damn machine. It was about 20 year ago when it first appeared. For the super rich back then but soon the cheaper models started to appear everywhere. ‘Find out the answer to the only question you’ll ever need to ask,’ they said. What was that even supposed to mean, ‘Your born, life sucks and then you die’ that’s my motto. It’s simple, but people being people can’t leave well enough alone. No one is happy with A to B to C. No they have to meddle, You’re born, life sucks, you get a vague prediction of how you’ll die, you spend years being manically paranoid and depressed and then you die horribly. Ha, so this is where thousands of years of human evolution have got us. I think we would have been happier running away from some prehistoric monster at least then we would have something real to fear. Now we have only our minds to fear. Not me though, no machine was going to mess my life up. I was doing a good enough job of that on my own.

At that moment the door opens and my contact walks in. A skinny man with pale skin and dark eyes. He had the look of a tortured soul about him, he kept giving darting looks over his shoulders and had a twitch under his left eye.
“How’s the beer?” he asked.
“Best in town.” I say with a smile.

The Art of Eating Toast

2007-03-28T11:43:00.000+01:00

“The phrase "You're Toast" is often used to refer to those who are about to suffer brutal damage at the hands of the speaker.” Wikipedia

Press play.

The interior of the café is not unpleasant. The smell is not revolting. The pale blue walls and general underwater ambience are enough, however; to impress upon the enterer the feeling he’s stepped inside a fish tank. Tables and chairs are old and worn, perhaps salvaged from the hulk of a sunken ship, lost at some ragged spot upon a rocky coast, in the deep dark woods, of the soul. Somewhere behind an iron door, a radio is playing rag time classics.

Behind a door, it is playing.

Indeed, one chair in particular may catch the eye of the hapless seeker of a hearty breakfast. Painted a fire engine red and adorned with the purple face of Barney the Dinosaur, it appears quite out of place among the rest of the faded grey furniture. There is something strangely comfortable looking about it; perhaps the only chair in the room with some form of cushioning material. And it is upon this very red chair, above all else, that the dweller on the threshold desires to rest his weary legs. Therefore you lead your sleepy companion to a corner of the room and sit yourself down upon your very red chair, satisfied with your choice of seating and the fact that your companion has to sit on a much less comfortable and interestingly coloured, grey chair. Menu now in hand, there can no doubting the special appeal for the hungry and hung-over traveller, of the adequate and reasonably priced mini grill.

Travellers between late night and early morning are we, upon this stage of life.

But it’s only after the moustachioed waiter has taken your order, complemented you on your excellent choice of seating and disappeared behind the iron door that strange questions begin to arise in your mind’s inner mind, like:

What’s behind the iron door?
Does the mini grill come with toast?
Did that old guy get toast with his?
Did he get the more expensive mixed grill?
Is my companion getting up to go for a number one or a number two?

In this life there are only questions. Does one really enjoy a toilet activity or is it more a feeling of relief? Is enjoyment and relief the same thing?
You make ask who they are, this greasy waiter bringing out two plates of grilled rot, that old prick with his basket of toast and more luxurious mixed grill, your strange companion who hasn’t said a word since entering the café. Do they enjoy all this business? You want nothing but a small basket of toast.
“Can I get some toast with that?” You demand desperately above a plate of grilled junk.

People move in and out. A child enters in its young fathers arms, crying and pointing in your direction. Your companion returns and hands you a phone he found in the hallway.

The human eye usually takes a number of split seconds to focus on a digital image. The focus time however is unique to each pair of eyes. The average time it takes between looking at an image and our brain making sense of what we are seeing is usually about 0.02 seconds. However, after a time you will comprehend the image on the phone is a photo of a purple dinosaur attacking a clearly distressed man, who is sitting on a very red chair, at a grey table, in a small café.

The inside of the café however, is not unpleasant.

In fact you are so astonished by the image that you are quite unaware of the purple dinosaur that has entered the room from behind the iron door and has come to stand at your side holding a basket of toast and an electric carving knife, until he screams in a shrill feminine voice:

“You’re toast, fucker!” and proceeds to carve you open.

Behind the iron door time slows down. Chairs have been placed at tables, floors have been swept. The moment has come and the sound of nervous shuffling echoes through the great halls. A thousand dinosaur eyes roll and stare and blink in the darkness.

Breakfast is served.

Day Seven. Part 1

2007-03-22T00:17:00.000Z

Day seven. I was late to work again today but who cares. Seven days no clients maybe I needed to do a bit more advertising. I don’t know though if telling all five people I know about my new business doesn’t work then what would? Still I decided to place an ad in the local paper, mainly because it was cheap.
I call the number and spoke to a young woman who took my details and tells me the ad will appear in tomorrow’s edition.
“Nothing to do now but sit back and wait for the work to roll in.” I say to no one in particular.
Just as I put my feet up on the desk to relax the phone rings.
“OH YA” I scream jumping to my feet. But wait I think the ad is not out until tomorrow.
“Hello.” I say once I have picked up the phone.
“Hello this is Mary from the newspaper office. I was wondering what type of work you do?”
“Oh the usual. Ah…..” to be honest I didn’t really know what I did as I hadn’t gotten any jobs yet, “Body guard, finding missing people ah….. Being an all around legend ….. Basically what ever I will get paid for.”
“Oh good, be at 10 waldon street at 8 tonight and come alone.” She says and hangs up.
‘Interesting’ I think, ‘finally a case to get my teeth into’.
8.30 I arrive at 10 waldon street and I see the woman standing in a door way wearing a tight black dress. ‘This could be a very sexy first job.’ I think. She has a dog on a leash beside her. ‘Not really into that,’ I think, ‘but let’s see where this goes.’
“You’re late.” She says glaring at me.
“I doubt it.” I say, “So what’s the job?”
She looks me up and down for a minute and then says, “I’m going to la Rome for dinner and I want you…..”
I interrupt her before I she can finish “I’m afraid you are going to have to go some where else. Unfortunately last time I was in la Rome there was some unpleasantness and let’s just say I am no longer welcome there.”
“Yes well luckily for everyone you are not coming with me. I need you……”
“Lady,” I say interrupting her again, “why would you call me out here not to go anywhere with you. I mean it’s your buck. I charge the same for doing nothing as I do for ah…doing.”
“Well don’t worry you will be ‘doing’ as you put it. I called you here to look after fufu.” She says.
“Lady, I don’t know what the hell that is but if it’s illegal I charge double.”
“Fufu is my dog. La Rome has the best food in town but they don’t allow dogs, even dogs as sophisticated as fufu into the restaurant. My usual minder cancelled at the last moment so I am going to pay you to stand here and mind fufu while I eat my meal.”
“No bother lady,” I say taking the dogs lead. “cujo is safe with me.”
“FUFU, is a champion poodle and worth more than your life. Please don’t move from this spot.” She turns and walks into the restaurant.
I look down at the animal who is wearing a rather flashy blue cardigan and say, “Come on Cujo lets go for a walk.”

Day one. Part 2.

2007-02-05T19:03:00.000Z

10.20 the lights are red for crossing the street, it is a single lane of traffic and I mentally judge the distance to the other side of the road. Too far to jump even with a running start. As I scan the area for something which might help I notice a newspaper vending machine about 3 feet high.
“Eureka.” I scream and move back to get a running start. My idea is simple I run full speed at the machine and use it to get enough height to clear the cars and land safely on the other side of the road. At the same time I would be praying that there wouldn’t be a truck passing.
Then I am off, running full speed I leap and land with my full weight on the machine. But instead of going up I find myself going down. I hear the sound of Glass shatters and metal bending as I am catapulted face first onto the street. I jump to my feet expecting to be battered by an oncoming car, but to my relief the lights have changed and I’m going to live. I now have a lump on my forehead, a nose covered in blood, cuts on my face, a limp and I’m pretty sure I am wanted for assault on an old lady but I don’t have time to dwell on this I have to get to work. As I turn to continue my journey I see two men in suites and a lady with a fur coat wrestling for the last newspaper from the vending machine I just broke. ‘Some people have no dignity’ I think as I sprint off towards my new job.
10.30 I get to the building all I need to do now is make it to the third floor after the incident with the elevator earlier I decide to use the stairs. I burst through the door to the stairs and run straight into the cleaning lady. Moments later I am in the basement lying on top of the woman, covered in dirty water with a mop on my head. ‘Damn,’ I think, ‘most people pay good money to get into this position.’ I jump to my feet again heading up the stairs three steps at a time. I burst open the door to the third floor and there it is my new place of work. I walk up and look at the sign on the door:
KELLY INVESTIGATIONS
P.I., DETECTIVE, VISIONARY.

Finally I was here my first day at a new job, working for myself which was lucky as anyone else would have fired me on the spot.

"Asslestar Galactica"

2007-01-31T21:46:00.000Z

“We’ve got contacts.”
Commander Danadama birthed no emotion.
“How many?”
“Five Cylon Basestars.” Petty Officer Dualla’s voice trembled.
“Sir,” interrupted Lt. Agathon, “we only have four Cylon contacts.”
Petty Officer Dualla slammed her fist against her screen, “There are, FIVE, lights.”
“One of those is us,” spat Agathon.
“Sir, Lt. Agathon is a Cylon.”
Colonel Tigh awoke from a stupor. He was drunk, angry and his balls hurt.
“That is it,” he roared, drawing his firearm which had been wedged between his legs, “ I have had it with these mother fracking Cylons, on this mother fracking Battlestar.”
Danadama spoke. “Old friend, there are no Cylons on Galactica.”
“Sir, we’re receiving a transmission.”
“Put it on speakers Lt. Roborg.”
Roborg’s one red eye flashed across his face. “By your command.”
There was static first and then a voice.
“I don’t think they’re going to pick up.”
“This is Galactica Actual.”
“This is, uh, Cylon Actual. Listen, about that war, we’ve had a change of, uh, faith. We don’t believe in God anymore.” “Yeah fuck God,” chimed another voice.
“We found something way better to believe. So, you know, sorry… about the nuking and genocide…and stuff.” “Uh, so, we’ll be off, busy busy busy.”
“Target the lead Cylon ship.”
“Bringing guns online”
Danadama’s knuckles were white. “You destroyed everything we hold dear. You brought our people to the brink of extinction. You expect it to end like that.”
A new voice broke over the speakers.
“Danadama, you know, I could have killed you in your sleep.”

…

Almost everyone in the Galactica control centre turned to look at Danadama. Tigh, the only exception pulled at his collar. His face was covered in grey stubble and booze sweat. His ass hurt like hell and his gun was missing. Finally, he turned to his leader.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” said Danadama, “why don’t I make breakfast.”

Day 1. Part 1

2007-01-28T19:21:00.000Z

Day one of my new life. I am finally starting my dream job. I had set the alarm set to wake me early as I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t be late. 5.00 alarm goes off. 10.00 I awake to find myself in a sitting position with one arm on the off button of the alarm.
“Shit, I’m late.” I scream. Although there was no one there to hear me.
I jump up fall over one of my shoes and smash my forehead into the wall. Damn but this day was off to a bad start. I start to pile the assortment of clothing and shoes which are currently on the floor into a heap. Sure it would be a lot better to actually tidy everything away but who has time for that?
I am still trying to get my second shoe on when I get to the elevator. The elevator is on the ground floor, I’m on the fifth, I start work at 8, it is currently 10.10 but I have an ace up my sleeve. It’s a little known fact that by pressing the elevator button as many times as possible the elevator will arrive sooner. I am in the middle of this flurry of finger work when the door beside me opens.
“Kelly rent”, says my grossly over weight landlord. What little hair he has left is black and from the corner of my eye I can see that he is wearing a string vest and a pair of boxers.
“What is a little money between friends?” I say without taking my eyes off the elevator button.
“It’s the difference between you living here and you living on the street.” He says in a rasping voice.
“Not a big difference then.” I mumble.
“Rent is paid by the end of the week or your out” he says and disappears back into the void he calls his home.
Finally my finger tapping pays off and the elevator opens. One occupant an old lady with the thickest pair of glasses I have ever seen. As I press lobby I note that she has pressed the 6th floor. Damn I think I do not need this today. As we get to the sixth floor and the doors have opened she looks out then looks at the elevator buttons.
“Oh dear,” she mumbles “I thought I pressed 8”.
“NOOO” I scream and grasp her by the shoulders. With all of my strength I launch the little old lady head first out of the elevator. The doors close to the shouts of “My hip, my hip” but hell at least I am on my way once more.
10.15, the doors open on the ground floor and I am off and running. I have to run 8 blocks and some how go back in time more that 2 hours, still no one ever said first days are easy.
As I get out the front door I run straight into the postman sending him flying into a parked car. I don’t even slow down I’m late and that bastard never gives me anything but bills.

The Office

2006-09-01T19:14:00.000+01:00

Worker 1: “What is this error message you get when you open word?”
Worker 2: “I don’t get it.”
Worker 1: “Ya, I don’t get it either.”
??????????????????????

"Lad in the Water"

2006-07-27T17:11:00.000+01:00

Imagine if Tolouse played a team called Towin. And the game was a draw.

We want more pussy!

2006-07-18T22:16:00.000+01:00

I presume this is the pussy you are talking about? God fearing guy like yourself (I heard you went to mass last Sunday).

He is coming for you Frankie. Let’s see your God save you now.

FRIDAY IV. Death of Friday

2006-07-15T01:27:00.000+01:00

As my head finally began to clear and the adrenalin pumps through me my body jerked up wards. Sergeant BaBa had been seconds away from destroying the world and I had been knocked unconscious. As my vision returned I began to see that the room was different. It was covered in a white, chunk filled liquid. My fateful dog Dermot sat near me and I finally spotted Sergeant Baba desperately trying to paddle out of the deep end of a pool of vomit.
“Looks like we did it again boy. The world is saved from another evil baby. What do you say we head home and I get some food into you?”
Dermot obediently roles onto the pallet truck and we head for home. I know that even as we walk home another evil baby could be born but I feet confident that with Dermots at my side the world would be safe.

After all imagine how much he can vomit!

FRIDAY III. Son of Friday

2006-06-30T23:18:00.000+01:00

As I look around the factory I see white walls, white machines, white floor, white ceiling…… except for one spot directly above my station which is blue. Why the fuck is there a blue spot in a factory painted white? I look around the rest of the ceiling its all white except for the spot directly above me. What type of sick bastard puts a blue spot on the ceiling? The ceiling must be at least 20 Meters high they would have had to been on a ladder to paint it. Did they run out of paint and blue was the original color of the ceiling? Damn that would be cheap.
“Supervisor is coming.” says my tech who has just returned from the toilet.
“Did you have a good sleep?” I ask.
“Ya. If you sit on the toilet and face the wall you can rest your head on the cistern.”
He has a red line down one side of his face but I decide not tell him. The supervisor walks over to us.
“Ok you can stop working,” he says. I cannot tell if he is joking or not as it is pretty obvious that I haven’t been doing anything like work.
“There is a head corporate person here and he is giving a speech on the quarterly results and our plans for next Quarter.”
This wasn’t too bad as I laught when I thought back to last quarters meeting where we were told us we were the second best plant in Europe. I strolled over to line one to see if they were coming in to the meeting. The guy who works on line one was looking around guiltily.
“What have you done?” I ask.
“I left a circuit board in the machine when I went on break.”
“I thought you didn’t have any boards coming down your line?”
“Ya there weren’t but I was bored and took one from the repair station it didn’t have any capacitors on it but I wanted to see what would happen if I tested it.”
“And what happened?”
“It passed. But it turns out that if you leave a board in the machine for over an hour it turns brown.”
“So what did you do with it?”
“I put it in the bottom of that filling cabinet. There were already two boards in there so I put it on top of them.”
“Fuck sake, let’s just go into this meeting.” I say and we walk into the canteen where the meeting was on. It is already pretty crowded but we get some seats at the back. I get a look at the corporate guy, he is the typical American upper management type. Good suite and smiling at everyone as if he’s about to give them money. As he stands up to start the meeting 2 engineers and the tech from line 3 walked in. One of the engineers walks over and sits beside me.
“What kept you?” I ask.
“Just got this e-mail,” he says trying not to laugh, “it has what look like 14 women on it, but 7 of them are men. So far the tech from line 3 has done the worst he thought 6 of the men were women. If he is that bad when he’s sober imagine what he is like when he’s drunk.”
Trying to get the image of an inebriated tech from line 3 harassing some poor innocent transvestites, out of my head I turn my attention back to the meeting which has already started. The corporate guy had just finished telling everyone that we are once again the second best performing company in Europe. Then his smile falters a little and he starts talking about how the global economy has taken a down turn and how the cheaper labor in Eastern Europe and Asia means business is slow and we are going to have to tighten our belts. This means changing shift patterns without notice to make sure we meet the customers needs and that we need to find new business to break into. It’s at this point that I start thinking about the fact that we have a new line in the plant but that we only build the first half of the product. It is then packed up and sent to our sister company to be finished. Despite the fact that we have the manpower and the equipment to finish the product and our sister is further away from the end customer then we are. So I decide to ask a question.
“If we need new business why are we sending our new product to be finished in our sister plant shouldn’t we finish it here?”
He looks at me for a moment, his smile forgotten as if shocked that someone would question him. Or perhaps I should have put my hand up before shouting at him.
“Well we are not actually making any money on that product so we thought it best to split the costs between two factories.”
He turns to go back to his slide to continue but I decide not to let him off that easily.
“Why are we building something that we are not making any money on?”
He looks at me again still no smile and a couple of the managers behind him murmur something to one another. Maybe you are not supposed to shout things out in the middle of a meeting but I think, fuck it.
“This is a big customer and once we do this business with them they will consider us for more contracts which will have better margins on them.” He says and tries to put back on his smile but this time it’s a little more stretched.
He continues to explain why we are in trouble and then comes to the plan to recover profit for this quarter. This basically consists of everyone in our plant and our sister plant taking a 20% pay cut for this quarter. Once more I decide not to waste everyone’s time by raising my hand.
“Is there any guarantee that this is the only time our wages will be cut?” I shout.
Again there is a pause and stares from the front of the room. The corporate guy looks like he is sweating a little.
“Well of course we cannot guarantee anything but with new business like the new product, (the one he has just told me we are making no money on) we are confident of being back on track next quarter.”
He finishes the meeting with the usual keep up the good work crap and walks out of the room. I walk up to my supervisor and ask him for a pen and some paper. He tares off a corner from his note book and hands it to me, I write ‘I quit signed Kelly’ and hand it back to him. He looks at it for a moment and says.
“Why are you quitting?” I still cannot tell if he is joking or not but decide to tell him the truth.
“I would give two weeks notice but I don’t think this place will be here in two weeks.” I turn and walk out of the room.
As I walked out of the building I looked to my left to see a dog projectile vomit on a baby and think why the fuck did I get up this morning.

I would like to take this opportunity to say that when I decided to write a story on Friday I had been drinking. The only plan I had was after seeing a film where a dog projectile vomited on shoes I thought it would be funny to write a story which ends with a dog projectile vomiting on a baby. Seeing as the story is actually true, it was written on and about a Friday and I had seen the film about the dog the only thing I made up was the word baby. Showing once and for all that I have no creativity.
Still my first Idea was a story about a super hero dog whose only ability was to projectile vomited on babies. Luckily his arch enemy was a baby, (Maybe you know him) sergeant BA BA. I figure I could have gotten 10 posts out of that and I was going to have, ‘my dog just projectile vomited on you baby, cunt’ as the tag line. However due to the distinct possibility of legal action from Ragecorp I decided to write Friday instead.

FRIDAY II. Friday's back and this time it’s personal

2006-06-26T23:24:00.000+01:00

“Break time. Comon lets go.” The guy on line 1 seems overly happy.
“What are ye doing today?” I ask him.
“Nothing” he says, “they forgot to load one of the bays with Capacitors so all the product they made has been rejected. So, break time?”
I look at my watch and see its 12.45, break is at 1 but I thought close enough and start walking towards the canteen.
“They forgot to load one of the bays with Capacitors, isn’t there only like 3 bays on those machines? How did they miss the fact that one of them was empty?”
He shrugs his shoulders and we walk into the canteen. I can never figure out how no matter what time I walked into the canteen there was always a line. It was as if the person on the register refused to let anyone leave the line unless there was someone to replace them. As we got to the top of the line I looked over our three choices of main course.
1. Some type of pasta with white sauce and even whiter chicken pieces floating in it. 2. Something in Bread crumbs which I presume is cod. And 3 the vegetarian option which looks like someone has walked outside and put a load of leaves into a bowl and are calling it a salad.
“What ill it be?” asks the greasy and totally disinterested chief (I use that term loosely)
“I’ll have fish and chips. What is that cod?”I ask.
“Pork chops” is his reply, “You want some gravy with that?”
As I try to digest the fact that I have ordered battered pork chops and chips I look as the container filled with brown liquid with a black crust on top of it.
“No I’m good” I say and walk over to pay for my meal. Luckily the food is part paid for by the company so it only costs me €2.50 still I can’t help but feel I would have been happier with the money. I look around for some where to sit and see the guy from line one sit at a table with the guy working in the next station from me (who apparently hasn’t left the canteen since he went for coffee this morning) and a tech from line 3 so I go over to join them. As I sit down I look at the plate in front of the guy working in the next station from me.
“What the hell is that?” I say “did you go for the salad?”
“Ya I wanted to try it for a change. There was two pieces of carrot and the rest is lettuce. How can they call that a salad. Fuck, I’m going to get a bowl of chips.”
“You should get some gravy with that.”I say as he leaves the table.
I look over at the tech from line three who is talking to the guy from line one.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember him he was skeletor's master. I think his name was horlex.”
“Like the drink?” I say.
“Ya do you remember him?” he asks, “His face was half white and half black…”
“And his amour was shaped like a cup.” I say. He stares at me for a minute as if trying to remember if there was really a guy in he-man who looked like a cup. Luckily we were interrupted by my tech sitting at the table.
He turns to me and says, “Why didn’t you wake me I nearly slept through break?”
“I didn’t think it was an emergency.” I say “Anyway you never eat anything.”
“Ya” he says “but I have been looking forward to coffee and a fag.”
“You’ll never get back to sleep.”
“Don’t worry” he says and gets up and heads off to get his coffee.
The guy working in the next station from me sits back down and eats one of his chips. “I don’t think this is gravy.” he says as I cut into my pork chop. I now realize that the only reason to put bread crumbs on a pork chop is so you cannot see what the pork chop looks like.

As I walk out of the canteen at 2.20 the tech from line three walks with me telling me a story about how he once bought a car for €50 and drove it into Limerick drunk. The reason the car was so cheap he told me was that the steering column was not joined and that you had to lift the steering wheel to make the connection and steer. It sounded like bullshit but if there was ever a man who would pay €50 for a car which you cannot steer it was him. As we get to my machine, I sit down and the story ends with him abandoning the car on the nenagh bypass. I see the supervisor for line 3 coming towards us.
“Hey are those boards on trolley beside your machine tested yet? You are holding up the line” he says to the tech.
“Ya they‘re done and they have passed. Just throw them down the line.” says the tech.
As the supervisor walks back towards the line I look at the tech.
“When did you pass them I haven’t seen you at your machine all day?” I say.
“Ah, I didn’t test them. But they are probably fine.” He says looking around.
I worked on line three for a few days and knew that on a good day 50% of those boards would pass. As I watch his supervisor throw the boards down the line and listen to the tech bitch about the fact that I don’t have a seat for him I think ‘God this is shit, but thank fuck its Friday.’

FRIDAY

2006-06-24T00:02:00.000+01:00

“……….. Billy Jean is not my girl”
“Ohhhhhh”
“… who thinks that I am the one. But the…..”
Fuckin radio alarms. As I look at the time I see it says 8.30. Fuck I start work at 8.30, but as my sleep addled mind gets flooded with adrenalin I slowly realize that just like every other day for the last 6 months I have set my clock 20 minutes fast. Sweet 10 more minutes in bed and then 10 minutes to get ready, wash up and take the 15minute drive into work.
25 minutes later walk into work. Tell the security guard I forgot my clock in card, will have to sign in. The last person has written 8.40. Fuckin ass hole, it is going to look pure shit but I put 8.30 beside my name. Shit late, better play it cool keep eyes down, also checking I am wearing pants, smile don’t make noise or eye contact.
Sit at my machine turn on computer, sweet no one has asked me, ‘what time I think it is’ in a humorous but patronizing way. Look around something is not right not enough people on the line. Shit morning meeting …….. no they were cancelled when someone pointed out that they take 20 minutes but no one learns anything. Turn to the tech beside me.
“What’s going on?” I ask him. He looks at me with blood shot eyes, I notice his skin looks yellow.
“Don’t know……. I’m going for a sleep in the jacks, if anything happens wake me. I’ll be in the second cubicle in.”
“Ahhh, ya”. I’m not going to wake him but I figure nothing will happen anyway. Walk up to the next station.
“Where is everyone?”
“The start of the line was put on evenings.”
“Mmmm, were we put on evenings?”
“No……… I’m headin to the canteen for a coffee, You commin?”
“No I’m good” I say still trying to figure out what is going on.
Sit back at my machine and stare at the computer. It’s linked to my machine, no internet, no games….. Shit.
The supervisor walks up to me, this is never good.
“According to the clock in machine you were late twice this week. The production manager was on to me about it.”
Wrong I think I have been late 5 times this week but only used a clock in machine twice. I also thought the clock in card was only used to tell who is in the building in case of fire and not as a way of watching people but I can’t remember if that’s true or some thing I made up.
“Sorry won’t happen again.”
“Ok” he says “You better get back to work.”
What work I think but walk back to my machine. I decide I had better change things I don’t want the ‘According to the clock in machine’ talk again. From now on I’ll sign in every day.
As I sit at my machine and stare at the green screen I think ‘God this is shit, but thank fuck its Friday.’

He's Invisbly Touching Himself too

2006-06-09T21:27:00.000+01:00

So what's this post about then? I'll tell you what it's about. It's about what I want to be when I grow up. When I'm thirty I want to be Richard Sandrak when he was twelve. Noble.

Unfortunately no cutoffs!

"Worst Sentence Ever"

2006-05-30T18:59:00.000+01:00

"Your baby is dead, cunt."

Pink Streets

2006-05-23T19:05:00.000+01:00

He was the rookie cop, small town kid in the big city, having to learn about life on the streets the hard way.Billy had his hands full.
But he had a partner.
Presenting Richard Sandrak in his movie debut, as Detective McMurphy, a cop who's seen it all,grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and came back to put the bad guys away,three failed marriages, six kids,four dogs,drink problem, smokes three packs a day, one day from retirement.
Together, there gonna fight crime the eighties way, in cut offs, oversized sunglasses, cod pieces and pink lamborghini's.They're gonna kick ass and chew bubble gum the american way, while finding out things about each others body's they never thought possible.
This summer if you don't see a trailer for Pink Streets, you better hope you're visually impaired.

Bollocks Trauma

2006-05-18T17:55:00.000+01:00

The following were the results of exam related trauma to the frontal lobe area of the brain of a 24 year old male:
1. The fatal stabbing with a blunt fork of a fellow student in a canteen queue.The motive= standing too close behind the test subject, cunt.

2.The strangulation of a cleaning lady using the elastic from a pair of boxer shorts.The motive= making too much fucking noise, talking bollocks to your stupid cleaning colleagues, interrupting the test subjects futile attempts to read a sentence of bollocks.

3.The beating to death of a mangirl with a blunt keyboard.Motive= Stop spazing out on the keyboard you fat bitch, interrupting the test subjects ability to think of bollocks to put in this list. Ah fuck it.

Local Gunman Returns

2006-05-09T20:05:00.000+01:00

Yes, Bob! What i said was my uterus was cleansed....... CLEANSED Bob! Cleansed by Jesus himself.

In other news, infamous local gunman Dan Meethan is set to return to Ireland on Friday, to face charges of illegally impersonating a bearded woman.
Irish Authorities have filed an extradition request for the male nurse believed to be living in Minnasoda, who is accused of frightening a child while dressed as a bearded lady, earlier this year at a pitch and putt event in Murroe, Co.Tipperary.
Flight records show he travelled to America on 28th March last , soon after Murroe police sought to question him.It is understood that within days of arriving in Minnasoda he unsuccessfully attempted to expose himself to a a full scale model of a T-Rex dinosaur from the late Triassic period.
Unable to secure work in the city of Minnesoda, it is believed the accused lived for a time in several city parks, moving from one to the other when the heat from local mothers got too heavy.
The accused was taken into the custody of the Minnasoda State Police on friday last when a number of sightings in the lakes district of a peson illegally impersonating a bearded walrus, were reported to police.
Upon being taken into custody the accused was heard to say "I ain't got nothin to say to nobody but Kojack".

This brings to the number five, children who were frightened at pitch and putt events already this year.A startling increase of 2% on the number recorded for the first quarter of last year.

"Dan Plus Laos Equals: D-Laos"

2006-04-22T00:01:00.000+01:00

A happy go lucky medical goods factory somewhere in the mid-west. The cast of regulars includes, Loosey Lui, Burn Face Michelle Yeoh, The Red Hand, Hong Kong Rita, Blowfish Biglips, Meloveyoulongtime and Rick Rickshaw.
Dan speaks with favourite local and mega legend, The Mighty Shoe. We join them mid-conversation.

The Mighty Shoe (Speaking with Asian twanged accent.)
"So out of your group, who do you think is nicest?"

Dan (Confused by the question.)
"Uh... I don't know."

The Mighty Shoe (Laughing.)
"I thought, that you were going to say, that you were the nicest."

Dan
"Nah, I'm too modest."

The Mighty Shoe
"...You are the oddest?"

Dan
"Modest?"

The Mighty Shoe
"...Oddest?"

Dan
"Mod-est"

The Mighty Shoe
"Odd-est."

Dan
"Actually, I'm am the nicest."

The Mighty Shoe
"Oh, okay."

All sorts of awkward silences fall on the pair.

The Mighty Shoe
"So, what did you guys do at the weekend?"

Dan
"Took a drive out to the zoo. It was great. We saw a rare ape."

The Mighty Shoe (Genuinely shocked.)
"Oh my God, that is terrible.

Dan
...?

The Mighty Shoe
"Did you call the police?"

Dan
"Uh...no, we just watched for a while and I took some pictures."

The Might Shoe
..?!

Dan
"Uh...I don't know what I just did there but I want you to know The Mighty Shoe, that I think you're great."

Hong Kong Rita
"I think you great too Dan; great on my nerves."

Dan (Throwing it down.)
"You want some of this shit Rita?."

End scene.

"Lost"

2006-04-16T00:40:00.000+01:00

"Big D, Small d"

2006-04-06T02:33:00.000+01:00

"Dan's American Girlfriend"

2006-04-01T21:10:00.000+01:00

"A Danner Darkly"

2006-03-19T23:23:00.000Z

Doctor
“Damage has taken place to the left dominant hemisphere and the right hemisphere is attempting to compensate.”

Dan
“You mean, the two halves of my brain are…competing?”

Doctor.
“That would depend.”

Dan
“On what?”

Doctor.
“Whether or not you consider the Special Olympics a competition.”

Dan
“Guh?”

New Banner Caption

2006-03-13T19:57:00.000Z

Dan returns from America.
Somehow different.
New helmut?

"Visual Aids"

2006-03-10T01:39:00.000Z

"TV Times #3"

2006-03-09T01:15:00.000Z

Coming up next on the new season of 24. The long working hours begin to take their toll on Jack Bauer.

Curtis
“Jack, are you okay? It sounds like you're injured.”

Jack Bauer
“Curtis, if I don’t get to a toilet in the next fifteen minutes, I am going to shit my pants. Do you copy?”

23:15:05… 23:15:06… 23:15:07

Captains log

2006-03-08T21:23:00.000Z

“Captains log, star date 25.25.02. We are receiving reports of unidentified…”
“He’s doing it again!”
“Just ignore him.”
“If he doesn’t shut up I’m going to have to beat him senseless. Why is he talking to that lump of plastic anyway?”
“I think it is supposed to be a log.” he said looking at the short, fat, balding, old man standing in the corner of the room.
“That makes about as much sense as cement flavored ice-cream.”
“Don’t start that again. I told you I get confused when good looking women talk to me. Now just drop it.”
“You don’t seem confused when you’re talking to me?”
“I said good looking women.” He muttered under his breath.
She stopped and turned towards him. “What did you say?” she said with murder in her eyes.
“hahum, nothing I was just thinking that lump of plastic is the closest thing to a log on this hunk of junk.” He said quickly changing the subject.
“What do you mean there is a whole hydroponics bay full of tree’s. Not that it would make any more sense but he could have at least looked there.”
“Well actually that’s where he got the lump of plastic. You see the hydroponics bay was supposed to provide extra oxygen for the ship but during construction some bright spark figured out that plastic trees cost half the price of real tree’s and made a tidy profit for himself.”
“This is some amount of Bullshit. I thought this was supposed to be the most expensive ship ever built?”
“Ya well you can pay a man a million quid for a piece of shit. Now that piece of shit is the most expensive piece of shit ever. Doesn’t mean it’s anything more than a piece of shit though does it?”
She nodded and sighed, “What’s for Dinner?”
“Two plastic Carrots and a can of spam, same as yesterday.”
“Nice one,” she said reaching for the pot.
“Captains log supplemental, I fear there may be cling ons……”
The woman walks calmly over to the old man and begins beating him with the pot. As he turns his attention from the sigh of his female companion beating the life out of a crazy, short, fat, balding, old man, he stares into the space he has been floating in for the last 2 years and thinks ‘What the fuck are we doing up here.’

"TV Times #2"

2006-03-08T01:20:00.000Z

Coming up on classic A-team. The gang plan to utilise an oversized novelty carpenters tool to negotiate over a surface where no point is higher or lower than another. But B.A’s got something to say about that!

B.A
“I ain’t getting on no plane, fool.”

"TV Times #1"

2006-03-07T02:46:00.000Z

Coming up on Star Trek, The Next Generation, Data finally fulfils his dream to become a human while the rest of the crew fulfil their shared secret dream... to become androids.

Android Picard.
"Commander Data, how long until we reach Starbase 657?"

Data
"Twenty-two hours Captain."

Android Picard.
"Incorrect."

"MSN Messenger: Lump Will Lover Them, Lover All Over Them"

2006-03-05T17:26:00.000Z

BERNADETTE says:
Hey, what are you doing up so late?
Daniel says:
Having gay orgasms in my ass
Daniel says:
Oops sorry meant that for someone else
BERNADETTE says:
Lol I won't care to comment
Daniel says:
You better not, say nothing to no-body.
Daniel says:
Uh, so how are you?
BERNADETTE says:
And from then on well when the Barbarians tasted beer well then their meager mead was no substitute for the real deal

BERNADETTE says:
I’m fine and that last sentence was not for you
BERNADETTE says:
Lol don't worry I won't
Daniel says:
I'm not worried, for you see, I am only joking.
BERNADETTE says:
Someone once told me: many truths are revealed in jokes
Daniel says:
Oh give it to me big boy
Daniel says:
Oh Jesus sorry.
Daniel says:
That was, also a joke.
BERNADETTE says:
Hahahaha
Daniel says:
Yes indeed, ha ha.

BERNADETTE says:
If you're wondering about the beer
BERNADETTE says:
I’m telling Tom about how it got to Germany
BERNADETTE says:
And about the ancient Egyptians
BERNADETTE says:
And basically (as usual) I’m outlining doing his speech draft for him
BERNADETTE says:
He likes talking about beer to tick me off
Daniel says:
I don't give a shit.
Daniel says:
Ah fuck, sorry, I'm talking to an idiot on messenger
BERNADETTE says:
So I thought it would be fun if he gave a speech about something he likes
BERNADETTE says:
Ah ok
Daniel says:
Not you, this other fucking idiot, he is really annoying the shit out of me. Any suggestions to get rid of him?
BERNADETTE says:
Depends on your relationship to him
BERNADETTE says:
If you know him well
Daniel says:
Yeah?
BERNADETTE says:
Then tell him you are trying to download stuff and can't really talk
BERNADETTE says:
Or something like that I don't know

Daniel says:
That’s good enough for me. How’s lump? I haven't been talking to him in a while?
BERNADETTE says:
Well he is getting pics via email
BERNADETTE says:
I don't know what happened to the ones I sent via mail
BERNADETTE says:
So I finally decided to start using my digital so tom was over and we were loading the stuff up
Daniel says:
Sexy pics? Lump would love that considering all the porn he looks at.
BERNADETTE says:
They are pics of me ok

BERNADETTE says:
Sexy?
BERNADETTE says:
Not really.

"High Coup D'é tat"

2006-03-02T20:29:00.000Z

Colombian brown,
A wayward red riding hood,
Both can be abused.

"The Old Man and the C"

2006-02-16T19:06:00.000Z

“Would you boys like some tea?” purred Darina Adventure, brew master and cleaner of the Ab Ovo Institute for Science and Chicken Farming. Both Professor Trin Fallacy and Professor Tee Jay waved her on.
“I leave it down here then,” and she teetered her wrinkled mess of a body to the far end of the room spilling sugar and milk as she went.
Professor Jay scanned the information on the clipboard, flicking back and forth between pages.
“According to the brickwell, brinell and vickers test, ‘sorry’ seems to be the hardest word.”
Professor Fallacy crossed his arms indignantly and spoke.
“I believe my theory is vindicated. You owe me an apology Jay.”
Outside, lightning hissed through the air as a seasonal storm picked up pace.
“That’s pathetic Fallacy, this in no way supports your theory. Words that on one level seem similar can be completely different on another level.
Look at this,” he said presenting a page from his writing pad.
“I see,” said Fallacy, not really seeing.
“Now look at this,” said Jay turning over to the next leaf.
“Oh…” disappointment crossed his face, “…I sea.”
“Icy? It’s a fucking blizzard out there,” said the newly arrived Professor Nitt Mustard.
“Now the circle is complete,” declared Professor Jay, “and look I also drew a square and some sort of uh… squiggly thing.”
“Nitt,” said Fallacy “we need one of your experimental machines to help us out with our project.”
Mustard was delighted. “Which one? They’re all equally fucktastic.”
“We’re not really sure. What does that one do?”
“This bitch,” said Nitt, patting a large grey box, “is the Non Sequiter Mk2. You input all the information you have, all the data and results you have already collected and it provides you with a reply that has no relevance whatsoever.”
“It’ll end world hunger,” declared Fallacy.
Jay and Nitt nodded in disagreement.
“And what about that grey box you’re patting?”
Nitt smirked, “I just invented this fucker. It should solve all your problems. It’s the Deus Ex Machina. Here let me fire it up.”
“Are you sure its safe,” asked Fallacy
“Of course," laughed Mustard, “there are maybe two things in the entire world that would dangerously disrupt this machine.”
A moment after the machine was switched on, and just a moment before Professor Mustard was to tell them that milk was one of the two things in the entire world that could dangerously disrupt the machine, it exploded, killing all present.

Coroners Verdict: Death by Ms. Adventure.

J.A.A.D

2006-02-11T03:51:00.000Z

Cloudy eyes opened, registering little before them. A mouth twitched, yellow and wet with spit. A body shuddered, not with cold or fear but from that other thing.
Tony Jaa made no attempt to forget the dream. Instead, he watched the orderly carry the stinky Englishman away and did his best not to inhale the noxious vapour river of booze and piss that trailed in their wake. All around him were dying men. The stinky wrinkled excrement of juvenile times.
Sometimes his head felt heavy and he would fall into acid dark or not, conditional to the presence of strength. Less and less could he rely on the tiger’s vigour to remain conscious. Less and less did the vinegar sterility of his world inspire him to try.
The dream had wafted in on a strange liquid breeze, settling peacefully and yet disturbing profoundly. A drunken master long gone from life had appeared on a hazy field of yellow grass and ruby soil. Furious movements, magnificent forms; the feats of prowess painted a glorious carnival of life.
“I was once as you were. I was worshipped and loved. Time grew jealous of these things. Those that would have raised me on shoulders crushed me under foot. Past victories were meaningless. The mistake I made…”
A dragon appeared, its chest slashed trice. It burnt the sky with spirit alone until all creation could but stare at its wonder. Then ashes rained, the dragon no more.
“…You made it too.”

D.A.D

2006-02-09T04:06:00.000Z

“No joke, nipples like mushrooms. So I looked her right in the eye and said, ‘the name is Bond, James Bond.’ And she said, ‘I know who you are Mr. Bond, my name is Shebe Moisty.’
Shebe Moisty! Can you fucking believe it? So I said, ‘tell me Shebe, are you a cold-blooded or a hot-blooded woman?’ That threw her. So she pouted and said, ‘how does one go about telling?’ And you are not going to believe this, I said, ‘personally, I like to stick my toe in the deep end.’ And I followed that up straight away for a double whammy, ‘if the temperature is agreeable, perhaps I’ll go for a few laps.’
The Asian orderly gently removed the old telephone receiver from Bond’s matchstick fingers. “Time for a bath Mr. Bond.” James looked away, out the window where the old hickory tree was flaking and whittling to dust. “I’m talking on the phone,” he grumbled.
“Sure Mr. Bond, and you can go back to talking after you’ve had a bath.”
“That old tree…” James trailed off, his knuckles whitened.
“All things that live die, Mr. Bond.”
“Do you expect me to die?”
The orderly gathered the rags of James up in his arms.
“No Mr. Bond, after your bath, I expect you to talk.”

"Con Test Or Man Test"

2006-01-26T21:19:00.000Z

This is a genuine test of MANhood and is accurate to 99.9% MAN.

# 1

What would you rather be?

(A) A woMAN.
(B) I don't know.
(C) A legend.

# 2

"If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it..."

(A) "...make a sound?"
(B) I don't know.
(C) "...mean that a deaf MAN head butted it."

# 3

You're at a friend’s house and they offer you a banana. What do you say?

(A) "Oh lovely, a banana. I'll gobble that right down."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "Get that banana out of my face or I'll cut it off at the balls."

# 4

Fight Club. Discuss.

(A) "What appears to be a film about MEN touching each other is actually a film about a MAN touching himself."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "His name is Robert Paulson."

# 5

Do you worship God or Satan?

(A) God.
(B) I don't know.
(C) Whichever is the one I see in the mirror.

# 6

Which of the following is the closet to your life motto?

(A) "Laugh and the whole world laughs with you."
(B) "I don't know."
(C) "Arbeit macht frei."

# 7

Complete the sentence: "Fight fire with..."

(A) "...fire."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "...water."

# 8

"Stupid is as..."

(A) "...stupid does."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "...woMAN does."

# 9

You are perforMing AN intiMAte coNcert of earthy folk tunes detailing the lives of coal Miners ANd railway barons when Music from A Nearby teenwhore gig interrupts. Your reaction.

(A) "Those Sugababes sure have sass."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "That shitfull music is disrupting my storytelling."

# 10

"When life throws you lemons..."

(A) "...make lemonade."
(B) I don't know.
(C) "...catch them."

Mostly A: Nice tits, bitch.

Mostly B: Indecision is a signpost that a woMAN driver has crashed into killing all her male passengers whilst rendering her deformed and thus unusable to reMAiNing MEN.

Mostly C: A real MAN doesn't need a test to prove it. A real MAN knows it. He feels it every time he looks at a woMAN, every time he arm-wrestles a punk into submission, every time he wraps a shiv. Every cell in his body vibrates every moment of every day with the power of MAN. A real MAN wouldn't have read this far. Better get the tampons in.

"Bumforgiven"

2006-01-20T02:19:00.000Z

"They call me The Myopic Kid, on account of my firearm of choice." He twirled the pistol in his hand. "The Colt Myopic 88."
"That’s a Colt Nay 33 kid."
The young horseman squinted at the raised lettering on his pistol. "The Nay Kid?" he mumbled. "Look mister, I ain't here to discuss the finer points of pistol names."
"Best you be telling me your business then," said the old farmer.
"Two gay cowboys cut up a manwhore pretty bad. All up in his titties and such. Worked over his sack too I expect. All them she males have collaborated their earnings and are offering a reward for justice."
"Justice or vengeance?"
"It don't matter beyond the telling of it. I'm just looking to get my hands on some of that brown gold and maybe some free ones while I'm at it."
"I'm not giving out free ones kid."
"I'm here because I need a partner and I heard you were a killin' machine. Story was that a man could make a healthy living from digging graves in your wake."
"You got the wrong man kid."
"Heard tell that Dead Man Pass used to be called Crowning Meadows till you took it on yourself to clean it up."
"That ain't me kid."
"Heard you even killed Gambling Freakshow Eddie Owe Nine. And they say he could dodge bullets."
The old farmers eyes cut the horizon. "Freakshow Eddie," memories from the ether, "I fired on him. Sumbitch was faster than a shadow, crouched right down to the dirt. Didn't know I was aiming for his balls."
"The duck of death," whispered The Myopic Kid.
"His face, it disappeared, fell away from his skull like a crimson shroud. A mans features shouldn't do that..."
"Pa, another hog has the fever." The farmer’s young sons voice cut through the past.
"Goddamnit kid, that ain't me, not anymore."
The old farmer kicked at the dirt. "Kid, I upheld the law. I killed men like others swatted midgets. And I killed some of those little fellas too. If they were deserving it. But I met a woman. A good woman. And I calmed my ways, took to working in a Public Trust Bank, until we had sufficient savings. I bought this here hog farm on which I could raise the little ones. Now my wife, God rest her soul, is waiting for me on the other side. When I see her again, I know she'll be proud that I kept to my peaceful ways."
"Seems like a step backwards to me," said the Kid.
"Well I guess it depends on which way your facing. Now you best be following your path." Spinning his horse, the kid made to ride away but turned back again. "You looking rusty and all but if the wind blows differently and you want to catch up with me, I'll be riding along Boddicker ridge."
"Kid," said the old farmer."
"Yeah mister."
"Some advice. Good easy on the aftershave. A drop of infinity goes a long way and I smelled you coming two days ago."
Long after the beat of hooves on dirt had left his ears, the yearning remained in his heart.
"Pa, the damn hogs, they got the fever."

The old farmer stood ten feet from the post upon which he had placed the can. The mechanism in his leg long since unused began to buzz to life. It blossomed and his sidearm emerged. Raising it as he had done many times before, he spoke the words more out habit than necessity.
"Dead or alive, your coming with me." And he fired.

Later they would speak and sing and mime:

"A can once filled with corn so sweet,
perched on a post under the Missouri heat.
Dimpled skin, jagged edges; rusted rivers over it flowed,
It had served its purpose; it had carried its life load.
Yet, of something special it still became aware,
A stirring, goosebumbs, a neck with prickled hair.
Red bullets tore through without concern, pause or stop.
The return of a hero. Half man. Half machine. All cop."

Making the Film

2006-01-06T18:29:00.000Z

"Quick we're losing him" I screamed.
"He is fast.........very fast." Said my slightly out of breath female assistant.
Sure she was carring all the equipment but that was no excuse for losing our target.
"What did you expect? If he was slow we wouldnt be here. Now shut up and keep running."
"I dont think I can keep going I need to sit down." She panted as she slumped into a cafe chair.
"What the hell? How do you expect us to get the money Daly promised us if you keep on taking breaks?"
"How much money are we getting you havent even told me how much I am getting. I think I should know after all I paid for the airline tickets and bought all the equipment.."
"For the love of God woman, SHUT UP. With all of your talking and sitting it will be a wonder if we get any footage at all. Right give me the labtop I need to find out where our star lives."
"The... Lap....Top......?"
"Yes. Have you developed a speach impediment? The laptop which I told you to bring?"
"Well I dont think I was there when you told me that."
"..............What the hell kind of sence does that make? Are you trying to tell me that when I had a conversation with you, you were not even there to hear it? I dont want to talk to you when you are standing in front of me why the hell would I talk to you when you werent there? That is the stupidest..."
"Shut up he's looking at us"she said looking over my shoulder.
"Who is?" I said looking around, "And did you just tell me to shut up?"
It was then I saw him walking towards us the star of my soon to be bet winning video.
"Ok" I shreaked "Act natural".
I sprang into the nearest chair and screamed a the top of my voice, "Ha Ha Ha that was so witty," at my slightly starteled and less than able boddied assistant. Shit I thaught one look at her and he will know I am up to something there is no way she was being witty. Keeping my head down I watch him walk by in my periferal vision once I am sure he is out of ear shot I detail my cunningly devised plan to my acomples. She is to go to the top of the street and set up video camera, while I pay a homless peson to attack our star. It was briliant, an instant short film with no overheads. As she gathers the equipment I pay the slightly over weight and heavily intoxiated homeless man. After a few tries I finally get him to understand what I want and watch with pride as he charges off screaming profanities towards the designated area. I returned to my seat confident in the knollage that my plan was fool proof and that I could watch the fight later. About twenty minutes later my once more out of breath assistant stumbles out of a building and walks towards me. This was odd in two ways, firstly as I had sent her up the street and secondly what had she been doing in a one story building that could have left her out of breath?
"So what happened? Did you get the fight on film?" I asked slightly unsure if I wanted to hear what she had done.
"No he didnt turn up." she said once more slumping into her seat.
"But I saw our star walk up the street and the homless guy followed him. Was there no fight?"
"Up the street? But I was in that building over there?" She said pointing at the slightly rundown one story building she had staggered out of.
"Why were you in that building?" I said struggeling to hold my temper.
"Well," she said slightly uneasily "I must of thaught that was what you wanted me to do."
That was it my face turned purple and I was using every ounce of will power to try to control my insurmountable rage. After all if I killed her now there were too many witnesses. And I was unsure if I could survive life in a thailand prision but I was concidering it. As I stood rooted to the spot I over heard a conversation an American was having with his friend.
"That was awesome I cannt believe we saw Tony Jaa kicking the shit out of that homeless guy. That was the greatest fight I have ever seen."
As I let my breath out slowly I turned to my petrified female assistant and said, "Thats it you just fucked up another one of my briliant plans. I am getting the hell out of this country. God, I really dont know why I keep you around. Now pack my bags and meet me at the airport............ Oh ya and you better give me a fiver it looks like Daly wins his bet."

“Role Playing Reality” Episode One: A History of Violins

2005-11-21T21:26:00.000Z

"Do you want to run over it again?"

"Take me for a fool human and I will remove your testicles through your trout."

"Trout?"

"I meant throat."

"Well you said trout."

"I am aware of what I said."

"Why don't you be aware of what you say, as your saying it? We are here at the request of the local garrison to find out what really happened, we are their last chance for justice. Now try it again."

"Your head will make for a fine codpiece."

"I'm not really feeling it Rangnar. Have you eaten today?

"Must I always be the bad guy McCool?"

"I have some salted meat, do you want that? Hold on, here have some cheese."

"MacCool, you know that this is not about delicious num nums."

"You're a troll for Sighlongs sake....."

"And I have quested to rid myself of what is supposedly set in stone. You know this."

"Its an act Rangnar."

"Its a betrayal to what I strive to become."

"It doesn't mean anything. We do this for good."

"If it does not mean anything, why do you not do it?"

"Fine, we haven't time to argue about this. All you have to say is, 'You'll need these spare undergarments because if you don't tell me the truth, it’s my friends job to rip your hands off and at that point, most people defecate themselves.' I'll handle the rest. You understand?"

"Perfectly."

Rangnar slouched slightly to accommodate his height. The room was small and hairy like the internals of a rabbit that had been turned inside out. In the centre under directed sunlight sat Racs Bass, business associate of the murdered elf, Sequoia Bigtree and chief suspect in the subsequent investigation.
Behind Rangnar, leaning moodily against the shadowed wall, posed the dark figure of Legend McCool. Renowned for his altruism and heroics, he was now awaiting the cue to get violent.
Amateurs, thought Racs Bass. The stench of smug dripping from his very gums. They had nothing conclusive and the Troll and Thug were the theatrics of desperation. Maybe after he was free he would commit another murder just to rub it in the hollow fleshpots that bore their faces.

"What were your business dealings with the victim?"
So the smelly abomination was asking the questions. Bass decided then that he would enjoy this.
"The end of wee as the world knows it."
"I do not understand."
"Of course not," sneered Bass. "We were developing a process by which urine could be used as a cleaning agent for clothing."
"And where did you acquire my rine?"
"Urine troll. Piss. What your kind drinks instead of everything else."
Legend shifted slightly but Rangnar let the comment slide.
"You clean clothing with piss?"
"Its technical. In the future all civilised people will wash in urine. Not that you'll know about it."
"Somewhere along the path," Rangnar declared grimly, "the purity of this piss was tainted with the shittiness of murder." He was facing the wall now, arms folded behind his back, pretending to contemplate some meaningless speck on the wall.

The lumbering pus bag was dumber than a stillborn sow. Bass would have laughed, but he was saving that for the thugs almost certain attempt to strong-arm him. These fools would get nothing, no confession, no clues. Nothing. Interrogation tactics were child play to a man steeped in the business guild.
The troll turned, one arm remained resting by his back; the other outstretched offering a washboard fresh pair of jocks. Legend moistened his lips. Rangnar's eyes lit up. One hundred and forty seven miles east, a white buffalo was born.
"You will need this spare undergarments," said a newly intense Rangnar, "after my friend here gives you a hand job."
A barely audible snap was the only clue that MacCools suddenly tensed body had broken a rib.
Racs Bass's head darted from side to side in a desperate attempt to catch any words that may have lost their way to his head. Surely he didn't just say that. A vice gripped his face. "...What?"
Rangnar, unaware of his error, nodded viciously. "You will felate yourself," he declared. .
"...Excuse me?"
"Most people do," smiled the Troll.
"You can't do this, there are rules for prisoner treatment."
Rangnar snorted, "You may talk sweet about rules to my friend as he is pulling bits of you off. He does enjoy the moan of his victims."
Snap.
"You can't..."
"Make no mistake Bass, he does not want to do it, but you have forced his hand."
The prisoner licked his lips, his breathing thick, his pupils wide. Silence.
"On your head it be." Rangnar moved for the door. Legend's bowls moved for the floor.

"Okay, okay, Bigtrees methods of refining the urine were disastrous to the environment. I tried to make him understand but he didn't care about the damage."
"Are you admitting your involvement?"
"Yes...but I had to kill him. His mind was diseased with thoughts of lucrative profits and the three types of elfen pun tang. Someone had to stop him. For the sake of us all."
Racs put his arm on his chest, the finishing touch to a calculated move.
"Earth is an anagram for heart you know."

"And Racs Bass is an anagram for ass crabs," spat Rangnar, "spew your falsehoods else where."
"It," said Bass referring contemptuously to Rangnar, "knows what an anagram is?"
"That's the problem with you smart people," said Rangnar, "you believe everyone else to be stupid."
Legend's words were whitewashed with relief, "who the fool now?"
"I shall think fondly of you over a warm jug of piss, ass crabs," said green hero as he moved from the room.
"Don't feel left out. In prison you get to drink from the source," quipped Legend." And he too was away.

EPILOGUE

Rangnar and Legend stood with the leader of the local law enforcement. Their belongings packed, the road to adventures new waiting.
"My thanks to you both. I must say, you make for an odd couple, troll and human."
"I've seen stranger in my travels commander." said MacCool. "On one occasion I happened upon a chicken having intercourse with an egg."
"I have not heard this tale," said Rangnar.
"There is plenty more you haven't heard."
"A chicken and an egg," mused the commander.
"Tell me," ventured Rangnar, "which came first?"
A mischievous grin caught Legend's face by the balls.
"I did," he said sheepishly.
The commander laughed heartily at the joke. Rangnar knew better.

************************************************************

On the new season of John Doe.
John Doe remembers who he is, but forgets everything else.

John Doe
"I remember who I am. But I've forgotten everything else."

Black Cop
"Maybe we should call you John Duh. Snizzle."

And coming up next, Pimp my Ride.

Mike.
"How you gonna trip this sucka out 2shay?"

2shay
"I'm gonna put a 20 inch LCD on the bitch's back so when our boy Tyrone is pounding her dog style, he can watch skin flicks."

X-biscuit
"Faw real."

A Lesson in History

2005-11-10T19:57:00.000Z

The las vegas times ran this story on the 21st of October after a dead body without any fingers turned up in the back alley of a strip club. Appearently the local cops discovered the body with a message written on the wall beside the body. Below is a copy of the message.

‘If you are reading this note you will have realized it is written in blood. I only pray as each finger wears down against the granite of the wall that I have enough fingers to finish my tail. It is a tale which must be told no matter the cost so that future generations do not make the mistake I made. I was once as you are now, living my life with a care free abandon which make light of the dangers in every day life. This is a tale of time travel and drunken debauchery with family members. But the most important fact the which I must warn everyone of is the ………’

The only thing found on the person was the below photo which had one word written on the back of it.

Grandma

HUMANITY IN SPACE

2005-10-14T21:02:00.000+01:00

“2 no, 3 yea I think 3”
“3 ha, you don’t even……”
Alarms interrupt the conversation and the com on the desk beside the men crackles.
“Captain….. Captain”
“Ya, what” says the slightly over weight balding man who had just been conversing with a skinny twitchy individual.
“Sir we have a problem”
…………………….
“Your going to make me ask what the problem is?” says the captain still with his legs strewn over the desk.
“Sorry sir the problem is…”
“Answer my question.”
“What? Am, ah. No sir. I mean yes sir I’m not going to make you ask sir. The problem is…”
“Two years in deep space and they still don’t have a clue.” The captain says to his companion.
The skinny man scratches the skin below his left eye, clears his throat, spits and sits back without responding.
The captain looks at him with slight disgust and then realizes the person on the com is still talking.
“.. and now we don’t know if we ever had one but that’s not the worst of it…”
“What the hell do you mean not the worst of it you moron just fix it and stop brining me this shit.” With that he gets up and walks down the corridor. His skinny companion follows and 200 meters down to corridor they sit at an identical desk and begin there conversation again.
“Ya 3 women is definitely the best number to sleep with at one time” the captain continues, “with 2 you always feel you could do more and with 4 you can never walk the da…….”
His gaze is drawn to the window and the port engine which can be seen through it. He tilts his head slightly as he watches the engine lean to its left, a crack appears in it and it floats off into space.
“Uha idiots. 4000 crew and they can’t even stop the engine from falling off.”
He presses the intercom on this desk.
“Hey what the hell is going on”?
The same voice crackles on the inter com.
“Sir we have a problem”
“Oh no not you, Isn’t there anyone more senior then you on the bridge?”
“What bridge?”
Silence.
“What bridge” repeats the captain bareley controlling his temper, “The God damn bridge you are calling me from. You idiot.”
“Oh sorry Sir. No sir I’m all alone”
“Well what’s happening what is engineering saying?”
“Ah as I said earlier we don’t seem to have an engineer on board and we don’t know if we ever had one.”
“What?”
“The only person I could get through to on the intercom was a journalist who had gotten lost in engineering the day we launched and can’t find his way out.”
“I seem to remember you saying there was worse news? I’m hoping you meant the engine was about to fall off.”
“No Sir we’re heading for a black hole.”
“Ok don’t panic” said the captain with a definite look of panic in his eyes, “Abandon ship. Everyone to the escape pods.”
“But yo..”
“But nothing, I’m out of here if you want to stay fine.”
“No sir, don’t you remember you ejected the escape pods a month ago because people had been using them as toilets.”
“Shit.” Is all the captain can say as he stares into the space he has been floating in for the last 2 years and thinks ‘What the fuck are we doing up here.’
His skinny companion clears his throat once more and spits on the window.
An alien ship monitoring them sends a one word message before leaving the sector.
“DICKHEADS”

"Like Father, Like Crimson"

2005-10-02T19:34:00.000+01:00

"I took a dump in your shower," said Crimson Dominic, wiping his ass on a dishtowel. He ran it past his face breathing deeply. No one loved the smell of his or her own shit more. She was still sprawled on the bed mourning the loss of more intimate times. There was the sound of glass breaking from the kitchen and a moment later, "you're out of milk."
There are many qualities that separate us from animals. In the case of Crimson Dominic it was either a restraining order or a condom. As with all people, he wasn't that simple to classify. What can sometimes feel like multiple opposing personalities are all driven by the same goal. However when a man cannot tell the difference between opinion and knowledge, between what is important and what he thinks is important, then it is unlikely that he will make an effort to truly understand who he is. Dominic instead put his complex brain to other uses, developing an equation for exploitation.
She wasn't thin or beautiful. She hated herself more than she would ever tell anyone. Sometimes when she was alone, she would cry and curse God and rage, and spit with fury and self-pity because she had no one who loved her. He could feel it, like it was something tangible. A noose of anguish and despair that he would use to strangle her.
It didn't take much effort to get into her bedroom; she was hideous. Any port in the storm thought Crimson. Only there wasn't a storm.
"I have a girlfriend."
If it ain't kin, stick it in.
"Crimson, what?"
"I have a girlfriend."
"No," she said sitting up on the bed.
"For fuck sake Crimson."
"Carol."
"For fuck sake."
"Carol."
"Damnit Crimson." Silence.
"Are you engaged?"
"No," replied Crimson.
"Is she pregnant?"
"No," snorted Crimson.
"Where is she?"
"She had to go to a with her friends from work. She is staying at my parent’s house tonight. She thinks I'm on a job."
None of this mattered and Crimson knew it. The putrid bitch would have to put up a fight or she would look like the fat whore she was pretending not to be. Truth be told, he had only said it because he knew it would mess her up. Watching her squirm was foreplay.
He lay on top of her rolls of fat and pawed her mouth open with his stubby fingers. Licking the sweat from between the folds of her chin, he felt hair stubble and imagined he was tonguing a cat. He took great mouthfuls of her breasts or her elbows, he couldn't be sure. Skin was everywhere and the sickly vinegar smell of body odor hung over them like murder. They groaned and rolled and vomited their illicit passions. After, Dominic lay on his side facing away from her.
Unaccustomed as she was to optimism, Carol occasionally allowed herself slivers of hope. They had shared something special, an intimate moment that connected them. He would understand how she felt.
"There is this idea that I studied in college. It says that when you study something, it changes. You can't know its true nature because just by looking you affect it. I always thought that counted for something." She was almost whispering now. “If our perception actually changes reality then maybe that means we're important, that we matter."
He heard her swallow heavily, her words tied up in emotions.
"Crimson, what do you think?"
"Are your nails trimmed?"
"Yeah." The word came from her mouth softly.
"Stick a finger in my ass."
As the unfortunate digit was wrapped in shit and flab, he was wrapped only in the infinite wonder of himself.
Night blended into a splendid dawn. The canvas sky orange and red. Life stirring into a fresh world to explore new moments the virgin day would bring.
"Crimson, get your dick out of my face."
"Sorry, I thought it was your ass," he spat pulling away. His time was up, just one more scar to leave.
"Will you call me?"
Crimson was already at the door. "Call you what, a frigid bitch?" And he was gone. That would eat at her like stomach cancer and next time he could be sure that she wouldn't be so fucking prude.
Within an hour, the fat cheating bastard was lightly knocking on the door of his parent’s spare bedroom.
"Open up, this is the smile police," said Crimson.
"Come in," replied a soft voice, worn thin with a night of excess.
"Ma'am," said Crimson standing at the door, his hands planted on his hips, "I'm afraid you’re going to have to turn that frown upside down."
"I'm hung over you bastard," she said playfully.
"Have a good night?" he asked gathering up her clothes and putting them on the bed.
"I don't remember."
"Well get up, and when your ready come downstairs and I'll have breakfast ready, okay babe?
"Hmmm."
He was already at the door when she said, "Crimson, I love you."
He turned and smiled, "You'll love me even more when you see breakfast, now get that gorgeous face of yours out of bed."
"Jesus, that girl of yours was a mess last night." Crimson's dad was on his hands and knees sniffing at the kitchen floor. "I had to help her into bed." He swept his palm underneath the old armchair that decorated the corner of the room. "She kept saying, "Crimson this, Crimson that." He picked up the dog's basket, threw a glance underneath and replaced it.
"She was drunk as a stone in a whiskey barrel." His dad dissected the couch but found it a wasted effort.
"She loves me," smirked Dominic as he read the newly received text message.
"I'm so sorry about this morning, can we meet again? I want to make it up 2 u."
But his dad had wandered off and in his place stood his grinning girlfriend twitching with a nervous energy.
"Crimson, I think I'm pregnant,"
Abortion, miscarriage, stillborn, fetus cat food, bitch, baby cancer, fucking bitch, baby jam, dead baby, dead baby, die you fucking bitch, mistake, cot death, thought Crimson.
"W-what?" said Crimson.
"Look," she said holding out her hand, "These were in my uterus."
"Your what?"
"In my vagina, look."
"Look in your vagina?" He was almost hysterical.
"At my hand."
Three white solid objects lay in her palm.
"Teeth," she declared, "I think they're baby teeth!"
"Oh great, you found them," Old Daddy Crimson smiled revealing the black gaps in his mouth. "Where were they? I thought one of the cats had 'em for breakfast."
How can you know what someone is thinking, what they're goal is? Start by knowing what your goal is. Crimson Dominic shook his head in disbelief. He didn't see it.
"I had to help her into bed."
"She loves me."
He didn't see that they were both doing the same thing.
Bragging.

My so called shitty life

2005-09-28T12:52:00.000+01:00

A conversation between two people which started with out any previous reference.
“When do they start?”
“What?”
“What time do they usually start?”
“Who?”
“They are normally in by now.”
“Who are?”
“Oh no wait they are usually not in for another hour airnt they?”
“Who are not in for another hour”
“No. What time do they normally start work?”
“Stop. What time do who start work ?”
“AMERICA”

The Devils Baseball

2005-09-14T18:30:00.000+01:00

What a crazy week he thought as he picked up the bin outside his house. He had been meaning to burn the papers for some time but with everything that had happened he didn’t have a chance. As he casually threw the papers into the flames he went over his plans for the next day in his head. He had met the girl a week ago but had just worked up the courage to ask her out that day. He couldn’t believe she said yes but now all he had to worry about was the date itself.

The man in black opened the gate and walked into the garden he didn’t know why but he knew that this was where he was supposed to be. He still had the Childs blood on him but had been too preoccupied to do anything about it. He saw the man burning his papers and walked up to him until he was right behind him. Looking over the mans shoulder, he watched for a moment as the paper disappeared into flame.

The children were playing on the green, about ten of them had gathered and were engaged in a game of tag. The old woman looked on still in awe at a Childs ability to recover from traumatic events. The ambulance had left just ten minutes ago but already the children had returned to the same state as they were before the accident. Without thinking she knelt down and picked up the baseball which was at her feet and walked back into her house to finish her dinner. As she walked into the kitchen she thought she smelt something but put it down to her imagination. Once she finished eating she put her left overs in the bin outside. It was then she discovered the baseball she had put in her pocket, she stared at it for a moment before she threw it over her fence into the neighbors bin. She lit her cigarette and walked back into her house. The resulting explosion caused by the gas leek being lit by her cigarette rocked the whole neighborhood.

Charlie was always alone. Being the smallest and youngest kid in the neighborhood he always felt the other kids picked on him. They would call him names and throw things at him, sometimes he wished he was dead. That would show them, they would be sorry they were so mean to him then. At this moment he was standing alone in the shade of a tree near the road. As he watched the other children play he began to cry, even the new kid in the neighborhood had been allowed to play there game. The new kid was the son of a local baseball hero and all of the kids wanted to play with him. They had started a game of baseball and had picked two teams but told Charlie he was too small to play. As he watched them play the baseball was hit out of the green and rolled out onto the road near Charlie. Seeing his chance Charlie rushed out to pickup the baseball. As his hand grasped the ball he looked up to see a man in black standing on the side of the road directly in front of him, where no one had stood seconds before. Charlie froze as he looked at this man and then something hit him from his left. Charlie’s body flew through the air and his last though was that perhaps now that he had gotten the ball the other kids would let him play. As the bus skidded to a halt one of it passengers began to scream.

Being new in town sucked but when you were the son of a sports star you had to learn to make friends fast. His father was always changing teams or moving into a new rented house. This was the latest in a long line of teams who had bought his fathers ability but this could be the last. His father had been playing bad for the past few months and this was the only pro team who were still interested in him. The kid walked into his father’s room, picked up the baseball from his father’s bed and went out to meet the local kids. He failed to notice through the half open bathroom door, his father’s lifeless body hanging from the light switch.

THUMP. The man who had been burning papers snapped back to reality as he heard the sound. Looking down he saw a baseball had fallen into the flames. He stared at it for a moment as it began to unravel in the heat and wondered at the events that had led to this ball being left in his bin. As the ball burned the man in black shrank back in to the shadows from where he had come.

The Process

2005-09-11T01:13:00.000+01:00

Posts are transcribed predominantly from the frontal lobe area of my brain onto feint ruled A4 size paper, using a black “Imperial” Conway Stewart ballpoint pen, sometime between the hours of two and five a.m.The paper is carefully torn from a brown Cartier Refill Pad which originally contained eighty leaves. However, at present only thirty-four feint ruled leaves remain. Each page or leaf has a thin, royal red margin.
Next the finished handwritten script is sent away to be typed up by a dedicated team of criminals and degenerates, while they await execution for the diabolical crime of original thought. A crime, which in many instances they are innocent of.
When the typing process is completed and the post is published on the site “Retard Vegas”, the handwritten copy is shredded using a Hewlett Packard 3300C ShredJet. This data is then separated into the lovely consonants that we all know and love, and the evil vowels which decent society loathes.
First, the horrible vowels are cast haphazardly into the core of a nuclear reactor along with the afters of a gypsy wedding.
Then, the wholesome consonants are carefully inserted into a particle accelerator where they collide at high speeds with other consonants causing them to fuse together, ultimately creating new words. This process is particularly significant as it allows the formation of words without resorting to the use those of backstabbing vowels.
However, the high-speed collisions produced in the particle accelerator can occasionally cause the consonants to become unstuck in time, so to speak.
Unfortunately for everyone, these dissident consonants are usually deposited somewhere between 40 and 200 B.C., where they are used as the literary source for the Bible of St. Paul.
The Author fervently regrets this unfortunate side effect of the Blogging Process and wishes to express his deepest sympathy to anyone who has suffered at the elongated and freakish hands of boredom.

A Head in Crisis

2005-09-11T01:04:00.000+01:00

In the wet town dry mouths scream for water.
Rampaging rape mobs stampede to earthy ecstasy as death squads stalk the ravaged rooftops, snatching military choppers out of the air like butterflies. The liquid death of the streets turned mosquito rivers; greet those attempting to escape the city’s escalating lawlessness.
It is something resembling day. A balding captain and a hairy young man are moving through the chin deep flood mire, approaching each other from opposite sides of what was at some point in time a street. After an indeterminate lapse of time the two men draw level, or should I say their heads draw level, for that is all of both men that is visible.
A third man sitting on the balcony of a fourth story apartment eating breakfast, is struck by the similarity between the scene before him and a dream he had two nights previously, involving talking heads, a horse and a monkey. Having monitored their slow progress through the floodwater, he now observes the heads as they begin to talk.
Captain: Hey Beardo! Did you forget to shave this morning soldier?
Beardo (laughing nervously): Oh no I’m not in the army, I’m a reporter actually, for the Limerick Leader. It’s a newspaper in Ireland.
Captain: Don’t you know me soldier?
Beardo: No.
Captain: Where’s the rest of the division? You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t recognize me. You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I found you! I made you what you are now; I turned you into someone new. Five years later on you’ve got the world at your feet; success has been so easy for you!
Beardo: What the hell are you talking about you bloody mentalist?
Captain: The Division of Joy, soldier.
Beardo: I have no idea what that is.
Just then the head of the Beardo heard a sound that can only be described as the noise a gun makes when it is cocked under water. This alarmed the Beard, as he was familiar with such a sound, having cocked under water himself several times in his secret past.
Beardo: Take it easy man! Drop the gun!
Captain (raising the gun to his head): Love, love will tear us apart.
Beardo (Screams): No!
But the Captain’s head did not hear the Beard because it had a large bullet hole in it. The dead head sank beneath the oily surface and the Beard began to cry for a bit because no matter how much he hated the Captain for taking away his childhood, he still loved him for rescuing him from the cut throat world of waitressing, giving him a home in the religious/ military sect known as “The Division of Joy”, and ultimately taking him to the pinnacle of natural disaster journalism. And the Beard was silent for a time.
Meanwhile, it was all going to plan for the man on the balcony. Having finished his breakfast, he was meditating on the power of dreams and how they are really a form of time travel, as a horse with a monkey on it’s back, came swimming merrily down the street. Both (living) human heads looked on in amazement and both were equally touched inside, though in different places, by this fantastic, horse/ monkey combo.
“Pride is the real enemy, not the Black Panthers”, pondered the Beard as he moved off in the direction of the east, a head in crisis, not really knowing where he was going or what lay in store for him but inconsequentially getting closer to Mecca, among other things.

The Closet

2005-09-01T16:30:00.000+01:00

When I got to the house it was already engulfed in flames. I knew that Jack was still inside and rushed through the front door. As the flames licked the sky I searched for my friend. I knew where he would be and when I burst into his bedroom I saw him lying on the floor in front of his closet. I dragged him out into the cool night air and checked if he was still breathing. To my relief he was and I lay on the ground beside him. I looked up at the clear night sky, listening to the approaching sirens and tried to figure out the circumstances that had led me to this.
I had been sitting at home half asleep when the phone rang. Answering it I heard the panicked voice of my friend Jack muttering incomprehensibly into the phone.
"Calm down, Calm down" I said suddenly awake.
"Its true, it’s all true. I always knew some thing but not his I... can’t... don’t understand," he stuttered. “The closet, it’s the closet I told you about it. I knew it"
In my mind images, situations and the edges of conversation flickered into thought. Stories he had told me of sleepless nights feelings of dread and foreboding all because of his closet. As a child he had thought it haunted as, a teenager it haunted his dreams to this day he said he couldn’t go near it with out feeling like some one was watching him.
"What about the closet Jack. I don’t understand, what happened?" I said my mind still racing with images of disaster.
"We were doing renovations on the house and we were knocking through my closet as usual the builders were about three weeks late. I was outside when the builder came to get me. They had knocked through the wall of the closet but had not gotten straight into the bathroom as they had expected but had found a space of about two foot. The only thing that was in this space was an old chair. I ran inside to see this but when I got to my room and looked into the closet I collapsed on the floor.
In my mind ...at least I think it was in my mind I woke up on a mud path. As I got up and look around I saw I stood in an old fashioned village with a wooden wall round it. The main gate was open and a cart was coming through. I saw people talking but although there mouths moved I couldn’t hear anything. I noticed people began turning towards the gate and move away. As I turned to where they were looking I saw men streaming through the gate swords held high cutting through men, women and children. I was routed to the ground I stood transfixed as the slaughter enfolded before me. I soon noticed one figure in black more cruel than the rest. Although his back was to me I could see he twisted his sword as he pulled it from the dead and his body shook as if he laughed. I approached him and was right behind him when he turned. I couldn’t see his face as a mask covered it. No sooner had he turned than I collapsed once more.
I awoke this time on a wooden floor I got up and walked towards a door which opened into a dinning hall. From the clothes and physical appearance of the people I knew that this was a soup kitchen which was used in the famine. The mainly women and children who crashed past me had looks of dread on there faces. Bodies of dead children lay all over the place and again the man in black was weigh ding through them again with his back to me. I knew it was the same person and ran towards him, once more he turned to face me and I collapsed.
I awoke in a garden in front of my house but something was different. The car in the drive way looked like it belonged in the 40's. I immediately ran to the front door and tried to warn who ever was inside of this maniac I banged on the door and when no one answered I tried to look in the window. I saw movement and was filled with dread. I kicked the front door in and saw the first body, as I walked through the house I found two dead adults and the bodies of three young children. Before I entered my room I knew what I would find, as I walked in I immediately looked at the figure in black sitting in my closet on the chair. Although his face was masked I could feel his hatred as he stared at me and I collapsed.
When I awoke the builders said I had only been out for a few moments. I sent them home and have been trying to figure out what had happened ever since." He droned out to me as if he was watching the scenes unfold in his mind.
"Well did he look familiar? Did you know him? Was there anything familiar about him" I said slightly panicked.
Only silence answered my questions. I knew something was wrong as I rushed over.
Now lying on the grass I couldn’t figure out what had happened to him. The sirens were only moments away and I prayed they would speed up.
Jack suddenly coughed and leapt up.
"NO....." he screamed.
I stepped towards him to try to calm him down but he continued to scream.
"YOU DONT UNDERSTAND" he screamed looking around" HIS FACE, THE MASKED FACE. I SAW WHAT HE LOOKED LIKE" He grabbed me so hard I wince and he presses his face close to mine.
"It was the face of my grandfather...............MY FACE."
He turned and ran into the burning building. I stood stunned as the police and fire brigade rushed around me shouting and pushing me. As the roof of Jack Egan’s house caved in I collapsed.

"Coal as Ice"

2005-08-29T16:38:00.000+01:00

"Actually, people don't have philosophies per say, they have personal truths," spewed Vincinzo Coal as he stood in line for the butchers counter at his local supermarket. "When you hear, 'that’s my philosophy,' what you’re actually hearing is, 'that’s a justification for my personal truth. 'My way of explaining the mess that is my life.' It isn't that people spend time meditating, come to some big metaphysical conclusion and developed their existence around that idea. No, people look a their lives, at their faults and weaknesses, then evolve an idea that will suit and complement it. So they don't look so stupid. Well, at least that’s my philosophy."
These words were spoken to a random old hag, who's brain was as shriveled as her nipples. "He'll eat carrots," she mumbled. "He'll eat garden peas," she drooled. "He'll eat broccoli," she mentalised. "Cauliflower, he'll eat that."
Coal cared not for the otherworldly ramblings of the witch, using her to direct his conversation to the tall blonde who was deciding which part of the inside of a dead animal would looking pleasing on her dinner plate.
Like many drones, Vincinzo Coal didn't have much time for original thought. But according to last month’s issue of the refined man's cum-book Esquire, the intellectual image appealed to women. Delicious scoops of thought, swirls of sticky musings, topped with crunchy nuggets of the mind. A cornetto of mental passion to wet even the driest of panties. Thanks to passages he memorised from the best selling Dan Browne novel, "Success is Not Being Yourself," he was now armed with a silo of intelligent comments.
"Hi," said the blonde. "I couldn't help but overhear what you said, what with you shouting and all. Are you a professor or something?" "No," laughed Coal as modestly as he could pretend, never having felt that particular trait, "I'm just a simple thought merchant unwrapping the delicate nuances of the world around me. My name is Vincinzo Coal."
"You look familiar Vincinzo Coal," she said touching his arm slightly. Coal was aware that this meant one of two things. For most women, this tactile maneuver was a sign of sexual interest, a twirl of the flirting dance. For others however, this was part of an insecurity that required them to have the attention of anything with a Y chromosome in touching distance without any actual attraction involved.
Rich man's paper vagina, Esquire magazine insisted that these cock wrestlers had a purpose. Friends could easily be convinced that the lady lightly brushing your shoulder with her hand was also shampooing your crotch with her mouth. Either way, I end up looking good, thought Vincinzo.
"Now where would I have seen you before?” "Perhaps you saw the pilot TV show I made last year. It was called The Naked Carpenter. I call round to a celebrities house, shoot the shit, an interview of sorts, real casual though. Then I'd stay for a few days, hang a door upside down, charge them a grand and leave. It was a very exciting format."
"Oh my God, you were on television. That is amazing."
"Well, no, it never aired. The suits had issues with the cutting edge nature of it. And they thought the title was misleading."
"You were fully clothed then."
"Oh no," said Vincinzo, "I was naked."
"Can I help you?" interrupted the saggy-bodied meat slave. Vincinzo would have read price list, but his lips were already tired from sliming to his potential trophy lay. Mentally referring to successful players jacking in the box publication Esquire magazines article on how to impress at the butchers or fish market, Vincinzo scratched his chin idly in the way he had practiced often.
"I'll have some steak," he said casually.
"Some steak?"
"Yeah, some steak."
The meat boy shrugged his shoulders displaying the universal sign of indifference.
"Aren't you going to ask me how much steak I want?" The board was set, the pieces in play.
Mouth open, eyes vacant, the meat zombie did as commanded.
"How much steak do you want?"
Checkmate thought Vincinzo and he threw a small grin in the direction of the breasts that he had been talking at before returning his gaze to the spot bag treasurer of the meat.
"All of it," he said.
"All of it?"
"You heard me," said Coal soaking in the glory.
"Would you like to get a coffee Vincinzo, talk a bit more about the world," said the teeth, tits and tan.
"I'd rather have something to eat," subtly suggested Vincinzo while staring intently at the entrance to her womb. "I'm supposed to be knocking at a wall at the old Egan place, but I'm already..." Vincinzo flicked his wrist, exposing a limited edition IWC Prada timepiece... "three weeks late, so I don't think it will be an issue."
"Are you sure you won't get in trouble for not being on time?" Coal exhaled the air in his lungs reserved for blowing off silly comments. "What you have to understand," he said, " is that Nail and Wood Relocation experts like myself measure time in a abstract fashion, like how long has elapsed between the moment you realise that someone you love has lost all respect for you and the moment you realise that you just don't care." Wealthy socialite hand jazz magazine Esquire, issue 147. "Its a different experience for everyone."
The blonde beauty, who at the tender age of nineteen mistook a miscarriage for a heavy period stood in shock. "I've never met anyone like you before. Who are you Vincinzo Coal?"
Life is full of strange contradictions. Why is that when we are young our parents teach us of death and the dangers of the world but never warn us of the pain of loving someone with all our hearts who will never feel the same in return. Or why it is that the most honest answer is always the most shameful.
"I'm unique," he said finally. The truth whispered in his mind.
"I don't know."
"I don't know."
"I don't know."

Beneath the Great Donut

2005-08-27T18:33:00.000+01:00

Everyone gathered agreed it was a lovely night for a human sacrifice to an unholy idol but no unfortunately the mansion was struck twenty five times by lighting.
Astonish!
It must be “divine intervention,” said a local pedophile. The man who was the butler Egan lived but everyone else perished painfully in the fire and everything was burned except a chair. Remarkable!
The chair was the Min Gate of course, so you could go from this world to the next in like ten seconds by sitting on it. He made a deal with the devil no less, the man called Min who built the chair long ago so he could be immortal and escape the lake of fire if he did the devil’s bidding, which made him pure powerful and a right bastard. But the devil must have tricked him cause he died after a while. In the ashes Egan saw one person badly burned who was moving and might have been still alive but he took the chair instead. Why?
The sounds of the dead was what Egan heard when he placed the chair on the Altar Stone in the forest. Then footsteps after the howls got louder and stopped. They had him surrouned!OH NO!
AND ON TO THE CHAIR HE MUST NOW JUMP TO ESCAPE!
So he fell through space and a great donut to the outskirts of hell. He looked down from a cliff at the sea of woe where the dead floated whom the devil had tricked and he saw his old master without immortality. They floated face down for eternity! And it was freezing with sharp rocks that they sometimes hit off. Inland is the lake of fire with the bad guys without deals where he meets the devil.
So which was it to be? The fire or the freezing with the sharp rocks?
Of course he said I’ll think about it for five seconds.
And yes he went for the sea of woe and in no time at all he was back on earth to do the devil’s work.
But what happened the chair?
Well you could say he bricked up the chair in his new house where no one would find it but probably his unborn grandson.
But that would be telling.