Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 32
Sign: Gemini
City: glasgow
State: Scotland
Country: UK
Signup Date:
04/15/06
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Friday, August 15, 2008
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Paperback
(a short story)
Living in the top flat directly across the road, he'd noticed her a long time ago. His last girlfriend - poisonous cunt that she was - had left him almost a year earlier for an absolutely fucking hideously pretentious goth idiot who had himself down as some sort of messiah of the Glasgow 'vampire' scene, but was actually just some balding twat with a ponytail down past his arse, who worked in a shop. It'd be understandable if a rejection such as that had taken some recovering from but he didn't feel the need to recover anything other than pace.
He knew she walked to the shops around lunchtime every Saturday, weather permitting, and since the summer had come around it nearly always did; thank God, because she'd taken to wearing wee floaty, all-but see-through dresses and looked like an angel. He knew she wasn't, however. He'd followed her a few times as if to somehow warn her of what might be coming but she hadn't noticed him and if she had it didn't show, she was so confident. She knew she needed brought down a peg or two. It was just a matter of when.
That day he'd been watching her from his living room window. She was dancing around her flat getting ready to leave; just watching her bound about was enough to have him in a trance… then his buzzer went and he near jumped out his skin, convinced he'd already been caught before he calmed, realising it was probably just the postman needing into the close. The intercom proved the latter to be right. But as he held the button down, letting the downstairs lock off the latch, he felt his face slowly widen as realisation sank in: the opportunity might never present itself quite so well again. Flustered, he flapped about, pacing back and forth, unsure of what to do, before answering himself,
"But I've got to…"
He burst out his flat, down the close stairs, past the postman (who was now on his way out), and out the door, just in time to see her carry herself beautifully down the street, en rout to the shops, right on cue. He sat nervously on the edge of the nearby bus stop bench and intently watched the postman, hoping to find her side of the street still to be delivered. Just shy of ten minutes later, the post man crossed and began to work her side. He panicked for a moment, feeling doubtful but knowing if he didn't think fast he'd have to wait a whole week at best - when suddenly he'd never been so glad of his misspent youth. He shot back up his close, into his flat then trashed the place in search of a half empty multi-pack of 'Orbit'. Then, having found it, crammed his mouth full and bolted back down the stairs, across the street, checking unsuccessfully for the whereabouts of the postman before arriving at her close door. Sweating profusely and shaking almost uncontrollably, he pressed all the buzzers at once and waited.
"Hello," said a man's voice.
"Postman!" he replied. The door clicked open. He spat the awkward dollop into his hand then clumsily hesitated, realising if he stuck it in the catch it wouldn't have time to solidify and might even jam the door closed. Undiluted terror set in, sweat soaked from every pore, time lost its footing and agitated as it became very clear he was already fucking this up… until finally he thought to simply stick the gum in the inside top corner of the doorframe, preventing the door from closing properly. Then, failing to look even remotely casual, he quickly walked back across the street to his flat, clocking the postman still about five minutes away as he did. He stood at his living room window and watched, near shitting himself as the postman came and went. Doubts flooded in from everywhere. So much could go wrong. The back of his hand slid the sweat from his brow and his heart reeked absolute trepidation. Despite this chance only a short while ago seeming so, it was far from perfect.
Then it was too late. She was on her way back and she was asking for it. He had to do it. He had to do it now. He made his way down to his close door and watched, waiting as she approached then rummaged for keys, then as she entered her building he ran long, quick strides, bending across the road, and quietly let himself in just as she turned the first corner of her close. He knew her staircase was the same as his: walled up the inward-side instead of just railed, so there was no way she'd see him, but the echo was so dense it amplified even the slightest sound. His temple pounding… his breathing… the volume inside his skull was thunderous. One set of stairs… half a landing behind… he could almost feel her movement's breeze. Then they were there. He heard her keys jingle. He stood, petrified, with his back to the stairwell wall, two steps from the top, not five feet away, so close he could smell her. He heard her keys turn the lock then her door begin to open and, almost intuitively, he began to gently sneak.
As he grabbed her from behind, her fright-reflex was so extreme it almost shocked him into letting go. He had his left arm round the front of her waist and his right hand over her mouth, pulling her head back over his shoulder as he lifted her through the door and heeled it shut behind him. She was scared but far from scared stiff. She tried to scream as she kicked and punched and scratched and gouged. He dragged her through to the room looking onto his and slammed her onto the couch, pinning her down with his hand over her mouth. Her eyes were different now, not beautiful but scared. She fought and fought as he started tearing at her dress. He pulled at her pants, excited by her white thighs reddening where the elastic dug in. As he tore them from her she lashed out with her foot, kicking him in the face. He slapped her hard on the side of the head, dazing her enough for him to pull his jeans down and climb on top of her, then she began to beg,
"Please, please no, please don't, please… stop, please!" He held both her wrists above her head with his left hand, and her head down with his right hand flat across the side of her face,
"Oh God… oh, Jesus God… please…" she continued. He was pressed up against her, just about to force himself inside her, when her plea turned to a scream,
"…PAPERBACK!"
Everything froze.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry… What… Are you… I'm so sorry, please… are you ok? Jesus, I'm sorry, please… just tell me you're ok?" he said, having let her go. She covered herself, ashamed,
"…It just wasn't like I thought it'd be… sorry, Matthew."
They'd met nearly three months earlier. One Friday night he'd been drunkenly doing the pogo to the Pogues' 'Hot Dogs With Everything', not realising his curtains were wide open. At the end of the song he'd noticed her standing at her window, laughing. He smiled and shrugged with his palms turned up, feeling like a total spanner. She put her hand over her mouth and pulled her shoulders up, giggling like a cartoon character, then waved the cutest, most relieving wave he'd ever seen. He waved back. Then she, very authoritatively, threw her finger in the air before showing her palm, indicating she had an idea and that he should wait. She ran to the corner of her room and returned a moment later. He watched, baffled, as she stood looking at him for a few seconds, then suddenly she started dancing. He laughed and joined in, despite his record already having finished. After whatever song she'd been playing had stopped, she indicated he, once again, should wait a moment, then she returned with a massive sketchpad with 'WHAT YOU LISTENING TO?' written on it. He disappeared for a minute then came back, pulled a poster off his wall, wrote on the back of it, then held it up. It said 'NOTHING. IT WAS THE POGUES BUT IT FINISHED AGES AGO!' whilst nodding a big gaping smile. She joined him in laughter then scribbled and held up another sign that said 'DO YOU HAVE SALLY MACLENNANE?' He nodded, enthusiastically, then she scribbled again, 'PUT IT ON AND WE'LL DANCE TO IT!' then at the bottom it said, '(I'M SALLY!)' he nodded and wrote, 'HI SALLY, I'M MAT!' They danced to 'Sally MacLennane' with an entire street busying about between them, then once they'd finished she held up a bottle of wine and waved him over.
THE END
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Currently
listening
:
Rum Sodomy & the Lash
By
The Pogues
Release date: 2006-09-19
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2:12 PM
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11 Comments - 15 Kudos
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Friday, August 08, 2008
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The Great Search For Absolution
(a short story)
Propping up the bar were Batman and his HIV positive, alcoholic friend, Count Dracula. The pair had been there all day, and Batman had come round to thinking he must be looking comparatively good, what with all the smiles he'd been getting from the barmaid.
"What're you looking so pleased about?" slurred Dracula.
"Nothing," spat Batman, smugly. The pair returned to their usual silence, despondently staring blankly into nothingness, until Batman rolled his eyes and sighed,
"Aw, crap…" having noticed Robin, dragging over a stool,
"Hi guys!" said the boy wonder, gleefully, only to receive a half grimace in return. Awkwardly hovering, he stood feeling unwelcome until, having managed to catch the barmaid's attention, he perked up,
"Hi there, can I have a bottle of red wine, a pint of Guinness, and let me see… oh, I'll have a cherry Bacardi Breezer, please?"
"Have you got any ID?" asked the rather attractive young barmaid, embarrassing Robin who nervously fumbled about his waist. Batman smirked to himself in mockery, before once again catching the barmaid glance him a smile.
"It's in my other trunks…" said Robin, sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, but I can't serve you without ID. Sorry."
"I'll vouch for him, I'm his legal guardian, he is honestly eighteen," said Batman, trying to impersonate his long forgotten charismatic alter ego, 'Bruce Wane'.
"I'd still need to see some proof. Sorry."
"I'm Batman, he's Robin, what more proof can there be?"
"I'm sorry, but I'd need to see some ID."
"What?"
"look, I'm really sorry, but it's the law."
"The law? Are you insane? You think that I… 'the fucking Batman' am going to show you… some wee barmaid… ID? Like Commissioner fucking Gordon hasn't already tried that?"
"Look, if you're going to continue to talk to me like that I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to…"
"Oh please, it's no big deal, I'll just have a can of Top-Deck and These two can get their own. He must've just had a bad day or something, I'm sure he wont talk to you like that again, will you?" pleaded Robin, having turned to his mentor.
"No!" spat the bleary eyed Batman, looking down into his almost empty pint.
"How many glasses would you like with the wine?" sighed the barmaid.
"Just the one, thanks," slurred an almost oblivious Dracula.
"So… any good crime fighting tonight Robin?" spat Batman, sarcastically.
"Nah… redirected some traffic. Before the filth got there anyway. There was an accident this end of the A77. No one injured. I saw this guy take some kicking up the town, though. If it'd gotten any worse I'd've jumped in but… well… you know… there were quite a lot of them and… he totally deserved it, anyway," said Robin as he sat down, pulling his wee cape across and down over his lap, just as a girl would her skirt if it were too short, "how you doing Count? Any joy with the medication yet?"
"Nah, the problem's with my blood; it's different on account of my being a… Ha! Get it? Account…a Count? Never mind… My bloods different 'cause I'm a vampire, so the medication doesn't work. Pain in the fucking tits. I mean things just really aren't cool anymore, you know? If I'd known things were going to end up like this…" slurred Dracula, only having just gotten started.
"Yeah, I hear you. Times are tough," interrupted Robin, regretting having asked.
"No, I'm serious, I'd've never gotten into this whole 'immortal vampire' thing if I'd known… I mean, Jesus! The last time I killed someone was so long ago I can barely remember… and I got twenty odd years because of something daft like 'DNA' or 'finger prints' or 'dental records' or whatever. Twenty fucking years… just for having some dinner?" slurred Dracula.
"You were out in ten minutes and that's not even because you're a bloody vampire and could've easily escaped anytime you pleased. It's because the criminal justice system in this country is an absolute shambles!" spat Batman.
"How, exactly, was I to escape from jail? As far as I can see you're the only twat around here thinks he's a fucking bat! And believe me, no matter how long someone might live, seven years is never ten minutes," slurred Dracula.
"Did you know that human DNA is 97% identical to that of a banana?" added Robin.
"Oh, shut the fuck up you pathetic little prick… sic to the fucking stomach listening to your drivel!" spat Batman, even more bitterly than usual.
"…That's just… that's just not on and you know it! I've just got here two seconds ago and already you're… It's not my fault criminals aren't scared of 'The Batman' anymore! It's not my fault you're a big fat alcoholic! Maybe if you stopped getting photographed staggering home, covered in piss 'n' puke in broad daylight while everyone else is on their way to work… at least then people wouldn't be able to see your lumpy bits through your Lycra! I mean… Christ, that trout Vale wrote that article calling you a bloated pederast and that's supposed to be my fault? And by the way, you've got something hanging from your nose!" huffed Robin.
"Aw, fuck-sakes, man… an' I thought she was giving me the eye! Why the fuck didn't you say?" spat Batman having turned to Dracula as he blew his nose on his cape.
"I come out, my face all covered in shaving foam or toothpaste or whatever and do you ever tell me? Naw, so shut it!" slurred Dracula before everyone once again fell quite silent. Time slowed as Robin looked around his shadow-stained surroundings, wondering what it was that these two, at one time, giants - monsters - Gods among men, found so comforting in such a horribly grim punctuation.
"I'm just pissed off with the whole world today in general, you know?" Dracula began again, "I can't even go to a decent fucking nightclub without being splashed all over the tabloids the next morning. And usually the night hasn't even ended; I'll just be heading back to the coffin… or off to another party and already I'm all over the front page of the Sun! It's not on, it's really not, and, well… personally, I blame the Devil… it's all his fault things ended up the way they…"
"I heard that!" shouted the Devil from a table up the back of the pub.
"Speak of the fucking Devil…" slurred Dracula, under his breath.
"He's been sat back there all night," spat Batman.
"Shit… I…I think he's… he's coming over!" stuttered a now very panicked Robin.
"Aw fuck, Ok listen, it's cool, just let me do the talking, he and I go way back," slurred Dracula, "Hey, Satan, sorry mate, didn't see you over there, how's tricks?"
"Aye, Aye, very good…and I suppose you think Hitler was my fault an' all?" asked the Devil. Everyone fell awkwardly silent for a moment before Batman botched an attempt at changing the subject,
"So…while we're all here… anyone watch 'Big Brother' this year?"
"See… I fucking knew it!" exasperated the Devil, "Ok, I'll admit the guy was good for business but other than that I had fuck-all to do with the mental bastard… well, apart from obviously setting the horrible fucker ablaze for all eternity… 'but, oh no, never mind that! It's all the Devils fault! Oh yes, course it is!' If you really need someone to blame, blame that delusional gob-shite Nostradamus… was him put the idea in the crazy fucks head in the first place, not me!" insisted the Devil.
"But we saw'm in here just last week!" slurred Dracula.
"Who, Nostradamus?" asked the Devil.
"Naw, not Nostradamus… Hitler! He was sat over there by the pool table, drinking with Elvis,"
"You need your eyes tested, pal, that was Chaplin and Wolverine. Trust me, both Hitler and Elvis are well and truly fucked." maintained the Devil.
"Fair do's… so who's that you're drinking with tonight, Satan?" asked Batman, looking back at the overweight, middle-aged man with thick gray hair, bushy gray eyebrows, very shaky hands, and big wet lips, sat at the Devils table.
"Oh, that's an old friend. He's just after telling me about this dream he had wherein he was sentenced to death for attempted suicide… interesting guy but I don't think he likes me much," answered the Devil. Then catching the barmaids eye, "hey toots, I'll have a your phone number, all your money, a triple Ardbeg - no ice, a bottle of Mountain Due, and whatever these three are having." Another short silence found itself interrupted as the Devil noticed Robin spying him nervously from the corner of his mask, "Pleased to meet you, I'm the Devil," said the Devil, offering out his hand in friendship.
"Hello Mr Devil, I'm…" Robin reached to meet the Devils handshake, only to find Batman calmly blocking the way.
"Robin, are you really so foolish as to shake hands with the Devil?" began Batman, "No offence, Satan."
"None taken."
"I mean, come on boy… most people, such as our poor unfortunate friend Dracula here… no offence, Dracula."
"None taken."
"Are at least sensible enough to barter some outrageous agreement before handing over their eternal soul to damnation. I know we're all friends here but, come on… you should know by now to keep your wits about you when drinking in an establishment such as this, I mean it's no wonder they call you 'boy …' aye… well anyway..."
"…Sorry, I didn't think."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, wee man," began the Devil, cheerily, "you'd be surprised how many a noblemen's 'fallen' for that old trick… anyway… my friend'll waiting but I'll be back in a bit."
Despite being in the company of friends, Robin once again found himself alone enough for his eyes to wander.
There was of course the Devil and his friend sat at the table furthest up the back. Then at a table a few in from them sat a group of four unremarkable looking young men of various heights and builds, all of whom must've been about thirty. They sat laughing and arguing amongst themselves as only life-long friends could. Then, at the table closest the door there was a very odd group of eight, who, despite seemingly vacating the place more often than most the staff, kept themselves to themselves more than anyone. The most noticeable of whom was a very beautiful girl who never left her boyfriends side, even walking arm in arm to and from the toilets. Then there were two pensioners, one of whom seemed an intellect, the other a jailbird complete with a facial scar and tattooed tears. Next was a very unhealthy looking, buck-toothed young man who was clearly in desperate need of a good bath. Then a very energetic, spotty youngster who couldn't have been any older than Robin himself. Then again was a very bland looking man of an in-descript age who seemed to bore anyone within earshot to tears. And last of all there was a very, very strange looking man who at a glance wasn't even visible, seeming to be almost completely transparent as if a hologram, who only ever caught the attention of the old criminal looking man. Robin sat watching for a while, trying to fathom what might be the purpose in having your own personal hologram, especially if you had to adhere to its every command, as the case seemed to be here.
After having pondered the pros and cons of holograms, Robin's attention was brought back to the well being - or not - of his old friend and supposed father figure, Batman, having noticed him now absentmindedly drooling on himself. Robin gently nudged his sensei, hoping to arouse him from his comatose state, only to find that Batman was not at all insensible but just as unforgiving as ever.
"When will you realise that you're not wanted!"
Robin quickly thought on his feet, needing something agreeable to say,
"No, sorry, it's just… since they wont serve me I thought I'd give you the money and you could, you know, get a round in for me?"
"Oh… yeah, it's your round," spat Batman.
Robin slipped Batman a score, then while Batman got the round in, Robin heard something very out of place as a gentle song passed behind him,
"True love will find you in the end… You'll find out just who was your friend…" then having looked, saw it was the Devil's friend making his way for the door. Not being used to such outrageous optimism, Robin felt terribly uneasy and slowly turned back to face the bar where he found the Devil had once again joined them, with his hand round Dracula's shoulder, comforting him,
"Don't worry, mate, we all make mistakes. God knows, I've made mine," said the Devil. But Dracula looked tearful as he poured the last of his wine, eyeing the approach of another bottle.
"So what do you think'll happen to you, Dracula, I mean… what with your health an' all?" asked Robin, concerned.
"Well, if I'm staked and/or beheaded I'll go to hell. If not, I'll just continue to rot inwards until I'm crippled and all I can do is regret. Then eventually there'll be nothing left of me at all… nothing but regret… regret and guilt. The rest'll've rotted away and my conscience'll just lie wherever my body lay, awake but unable to do anything but suffer my own failings for all eternity," slurred the disillusioned Dracula.
"Hell would be exactly the same only instead of just lying there you'd be on fire," said the Devil, trying to reassure his friend.
"…But I don't get it… if you two are friends… then why…" started Robin, not having noticed Batman rummaging around his utility belt and producing a small plastic bottle and pouring its contents on his cape. Batman sat looking directly at Robin for a moment until Robin noticed, then grabbing him in a head-lock, Batman smothered Robin with the damp patch of his cape for a few seconds, rendering him unconscious.
"Chloroform!" spat Batman, delighted.
"Good thinking, Batman!" cheered the Devil.
"Sounded, to me, like the boy might've had a point, though," slurred Dracula.
"Ucht, we are friends, Dracula, but business is business and, you know… life goes on," said the Devil.
"And on and on and on and on," slurred Dracula, "there should be some kind of extenuating circumstances clause or whatever… a mitigating cause. I wasn't of sound mind when I signed that contract. There should be a union that takes care of this sort of thing."
"Aye, aye, very good… and maybe you should get yourself down the citizens advise bureau… see what they have to say about it," said the Devil, mocking Dracula's ridiculous declaration, "and anyway, let's not forget that death's a privilege I earned you in the first place. It's not my fault you thought better of it," said the Devil.
"But if you're intension was such a humanitarian one then why pop up at such an opportune moment brandishing that 'get out of jail free' card?" slurred Dracula, as if hurt, "I mean it's fine for everyone else, they've infinite ways to die and the hope of Heaven… I'm completely fucked!"
"Ok… so you're fucked as far as Heaven goes but trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's boring as fuck… and what do you mean 'infinite ways to die'? People don't go around hoping for something in particular like they're playing some lucky dip wife swap! They get what they're given, they die, and that's the end of it," said the Devil.
"Anything's got t'be better than being beheaded or staked through the bloody heart, though," slurred Dracula, scunnered.
"Hmm…" pondered the Devil, "ok… lets say, just for talking's sake, you could choose, how would you go?"
Dracula turned for a second to see his friend, Batman, almost fall from his stool without even seeming to notice as his elbow slipped from the bar, then answered,
"With my heart in one piece… I mean, bloody hell, if you'd successfully managed to take over Heaven we wouldn't even be here and I wouldn't be in this Godforsaken mess!"
"Godforsaken? Don't you talk to me about Godforsaken! And I never even tried to take over Heaven, you silly bastarding twat! That's pure propaganda… all I did was ask God if he were capable of building a chasm so great that even he couldn't jump it, and the pretentious prick threw me out! Patronising wanker that he is." insisted the now irate Devil, rubbing his hand on his chest and screwing up his face.
"Heart burn?" spat Batman.
"Nah, it's… aw bollocks…" Started the Devil, before collapsing to the ground with a thud. Batman and Dracula sat perturbed.
"Did he just have a heart attack?" slurred Dracula.
"As unlikely as it might seem… I think maybe he did," spat Batman. Just then the Devil jumped back to his hoofs,
"Sorry about that, lads, happens all the time… too much salt in the diet. Pain in the fucking arse though, every bloody time it happens all my ongoing agreements become null and void… loose a bloody fortune!" explained the Devil, looking even more red than usual.
"What?" spat Batman.
"You know… stress… that and lifestyle. And work, of course. I mean the money's good but the hours are terrible! Look… there's really no need for anyone else to know about this, is there?"
"Hold on, rewind a bit… null and void?" slurred a wide eyed Dracula.
"No, no, not yours. I mean if you'd just wanted to play a mean guitar you'd be off the hook but you're a fucking vampire. You're fucked… sorry mate."
Dracula sank even further into himself.
"There's really no point worrying about it now," spat Batman, "I mean, the hung-over moments of cognizance between waking up and getting to the pub are surely bad enough."
"Hangovers? You still get hangovers?" slurred Dracula.
"Well, no, but you know what I mean… when you're not properly drunk yet," spat Batman.
Just then Robin began to stir. Everyone watched as he came round.
"…What the bloody hell did you do that for?" asked Robin.
"Too many questions, Robin, too many questions. An inquisitive mind is a vulnerable mind. You'd do well to remember that. And watch your language," spat Batman.
"Ok, so If questions are so daft then riddle me this, Batman! What's the deal with that guy over there?" asked Robin, pointing towards the hologram guy. Batman shrugged, smugly grinning from one side of his mouth as if to imply some sort of 'who cares' bravado.
"He's a ghost," answered the Devil.
"There's no such thing as ghosts," said Robin. Everyone gawped at Robin, amazed, finding what he'd just said surpassed all levels of idiocy previously assumed by those who knew him.
"Robin, son, you're sat drinking with Count Dracula and the Devil. What do you mean there's no such thing as ghosts?" spat Batman.
"Ok. So how do you know he's a ghost?" asked Robin.
"Because I'm the Devil… and because it's obvious, just look at the guy, you can see right through him, he's quite clearly a ghost," said the Devil before turning to Batman, "here, Batman, this boy really isn't going to do your legacy any favours."
"He has a lot to learn, I admit." spat Batman.
"Hold on a second… so how come, if I'm not mistaken, I mean, we see those guys in here all the time, right? And only one of them even knows that see-through guy's there?" asked Robin.
"Evidently, that's the guy he's haunting." answered the Devil.
"But we can all see him! Any one of us could just waltz over there and start up a conversation with him, couldn't we?" asked Robin.
"Shit, yeah, what the fuck? I mean, of course I should be able to see him but there's no reason you should. What about you Count, can you normally see ghosts?" asked the Devil.
"I cant even see my own fucking reflection!" slurred Dracula, without having bothered to look. After a short baffled pause the Devil started humbly,
"Well… I guess the only explanation I can offer is that it must be the fault of the author."
"You mean God?" asked Robin.
"No, I don't mean God, you silly bloody soft-arse. I mean the guy that wrote this rubbish. Clearly, he hasn't given it much thought."
THE END.
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Currently
watching
:
The Devil and Daniel Johnston
Release date: 2006-09-19
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3:19 PM
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8 Comments - 14 Kudos
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Sunday, August 03, 2008
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Victory!
What else could the words "big dobber" mean when looking down upon a view such as that? All muck and member; thriving, poised ready to strike: to splash out ferocity in answer to the need in her hungry eyes, so big with the reek of laboured naive pleas. Then, so quickly, what just now seemed unobtainable becomes imminent, un-containable, unsustainable… then nothing more than a failing strength, a tortuous pant, a stale musk, rotting accomplishment and disgust, as he stands above the mess he's made of beauty. 'Is true valour now achieved?' he asks himself as he watches her rub her face back to a sheen coated pretty. Horrified by his own sense of triumph, he struggles to loosen his grip of himself. Victory is not what he'd imagined it to be.
11:21 PM
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Monday, May 26, 2008
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Man’s fall.
A parody.
Eve lay wiping the sweat from her brow, having just rode Adam into the ground reverse cowgirl style,
"I'm a bit thirsty after that, Adam. I think I'll go and collect some water from the stream and maybe pick some fruit. Coming?" said Eve.
"Nah, I'm ready for a hernia after that. Think I'll just have a wee nap. Wake me up when you get back though, I want to cuddle in." replied Adam, being a pure softie.
"Ok." said Eve before standing up, looking pure tidy in the nip, then making her way off round the garden singing the theme tune from 'Prisoner Cellblock H'.
"…and things were different then, on the inside the sun still shines…" when suddenly she heard someone say hello,
"Awright Eve, nice fruit, no wit a mean?"
Eve, barley able to understand the accent, turned to see who it could be, only to find a snake moving his tongue rather suggestively.
"Oh, hello snake, I didn't know you were able to talk; you've never said anything before." said Eve.
"Eh… aye, eh… we've no goat, eh… oany ears so we don't say much 'cause wee canae hear wit we're oan about… plus nane eh ma mates've goat oany chat oany-road, no wit a mean?" said the snake.
"Oh, right, I see." said Eve, not having really paid attention.
"Nice tits, by the way." said the snake.
"I beg your pardon?" said Eve, not having understood.
"Nuhin," said the snake before continuing, "Here, how huvnae ye picked oany apples? Don't ye like apples?" said the snake.
"What's apples?" asked Eve.
"Those big tasty luckin' shinny rid hings oan that big tree hour there, see, pure juicy luckin!" said the snake.
"Oh, we're not allowed those, God said so." said Eve.
"Wit? Ur ye sure? That doesnae sound like suhin' God wid say." said the snake.
"Oh, yes, we're definitely not supposed to eat those, of that I'm certain." said Eve.
"Ur ye really certain? Nah, why wid they be here if yer no supposed tae eat thim? A mean luck it thim, they luck pure heavy tasty. Ur ye sure eh didnae jist mean no tae eat aw eh them, like, tae leave some fur him, no wit a mean?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, I don't think so. Maybe though." said Eve.
"Aye, that must be it 'cause God's pure bran' new by the way, he wouldnae jist pure dae that like a prick: leavin' pure tasty fruit lyin' about yer no aloud tae eat, no wit a mean?" said the snake.
"Oh, do you really think so?" Said Eve.
"Aye, they must jist be his favourites, no wit a mean. So long as ye leave some fur him he'll no bother is erse by the way." Said the snake.
"Oh, well when you put it like that, maybe he wouldn't mind if I just tried one. I'll ask Adam and see what he thinks." said Eve.
"Wit? Ye mean yiv no even tried thim yit? How long you been here fur and yiv no even tried wan? Are ye mad? Hurry up and try wan, they luck pure tasty!" said the snake.
"Mm… I'm not sure…" said Eve.
"Ucht, moan? Ad try wan masell but av no goat oanae taste buds so gawnae jist tell is wit it tastes like?" said the snake.
"Right, ok, but just the one." said Eve. Then, as if in slow motion, she reached up to the biggest, reddest, shiniest apple within reach. She could see her reflection in it: the palm of her hand growing bigger and bigger until it hid itself behind her grasp as she felt the smooth surface cool against her skin. She held tight and pulled slowly away from the tree, feeling its reluctance; its straining desire to remain where it was until it snapped away and the branch flinched back as though hurt. She looked at her reflection mirrored red in the skin of the apple as she brought it up to her mouth, then closed her eyes and took the biggest, wettest, most satisfying mouth full she'd ever taken. She crunched and crunched, thoroughly enjoying the sensation as the firm, softly jagged mouthful began to turn to juice and almost overflowed from her lips, and with her eyes and cheeks bulging, she looked to tell the snake just how incredible a sensation it was. But he was nowhere to be seen. She checked all around her feet thinking he might have scurried about with excitement, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Then, for the very first time in her life, Eve jumped with fright as she heard her own name become something very harsh,
"EVE! What in Eden do you think you're doing? You know we're not allowed to eat those, honestly, I leave you alone for five bloody minutes!" said Adam, abruptly.
"No, it's fine, I met this talking snake and he said…" started Eve.
"WHAT? There's no such fucking thing as a talking fucking snake you silly fucking boot, shut the fuck up!" screamed Adam, vexed.
"Adam?" said Eve alarmed, never having seen Adam angry before.
"Don't you fucking 'Adam' me, you stupid fucking bastard! Just what the fuck am I supposed to tell God, 'oh sorry God but you know that daft fucking cow I pal about with, well she's just gone and had a wee conversation with this talking fucking snake who just happens to be an expert on the ins and outs of the rather vague politics surrounding forbidden fruit and he said…' and exactly what did this chatty fucking twat say anyway? 'here Eve, you look thick as fuck. And by the way, nice tits!'" roared Adam facetiously.
"Oh, Adam, it's only one apple, I'm sure God wont…" started Eve.
"What the fuck's an 'apple' when it's at home? Did your wee snake pal tell you that, did he, aye? What else did this mouthy wee fucker hit out with, the square route of the hypotenuse? Fucking stupid bitch!" said Adam.
"Oh dear…" said Eve, beginning to think.
"Aye, 'oh fucking dear' indeed." despaired Adam.
"I'm sure if I just explain to God that I've been duped…" started Eve before Adam rudely interrupted, mocking his wife with his hand, having it irritatingly mouth fake words as he wobbled his head from side to side,
"'Nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nye-eh!' No. Just shut the fuck up, please, don't say another fucking word."
Just then a bright flash of light shone over the horizon, wind blew and lightning cracked, indicating the approach of God, just like in the film 'The Time Bandits'.
"Shite! Hide that fucking apple thing, quick!" said Adam.
"What?" replied Eve.
"GIVE ME THE MAP, RETURN WHAT YOU HAVE STOLEN FROM ME!" said God.
"Eh?" said Adam, confused.
"OH, I MEAN, WHAT IS SHE HIDING BEHIND HER BACK? WHAT HAS SHE BEEN EATING? I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THOSE APPLES! DID NOT I TELL YOU?" said God.
"See?" said Eve, turning to Adam and souring her face.
"Oh, eh… hello God, fancy seeing you here, eh… well, a funny story, eh, you see…" began Adam.
"NO! I, AS YOU ARE AWARE, AM GOD, AND AS SUCH, HAVE NOTHING BUT CONTEMPT FOR WOMEN. LET THE WOMAN EXPLAIN." said God.
"Shit." muttered Adam.
"Hi God, well it's like this, I was just picking some fruit when I met this snake and he said…" began Eve.
"WHAT?" interrupted God,
"Shit." muttered Adam.
"A TALKING SNAKE? THERE IS NOT SUCH A THING AS A TALKING SNAKE YOU STUPID FUCKING COW! I SHOULD KNOW, I AM GOD AND I AM SURE I WOULD RECALL HAD I CREATED SUCH AN ABSURD CREATURE. TELL ME, WHAT DID THIS TALKING SNAKE HAVE TO SAY FOR ITSELF?" continued God.
"Well, he said he didn't have any ears or taste buds and that it would be ok to have an apple so long as I left some for…" started Eve.
"ENOUGH! TROUT, I CAST THEE OUT OF EDEN! GO NOW AND NEVER RETURN! said God.
"Hold on a sec, God, she made a wee mistake is all, she wont do it again, she promises; don't you promise not to do it again, sweetheart?" said Adam.
"Uh-huh." said Eve.
"NO. SHE HAS VIOLATED MY LAW. SHE MUST BE CAST OUT OF EDEN INTO THE MORTAL WASTELANDS. said God.
"Violated's a bit strong; she only had an 'apple' and she didn't even have time to finish it before you turned up, all stern and looking for a fight. I mean, I know you've never liked her but she's my bird and, well… I think you're overreacting a bit. And I never made a fuss about that whole 'testicle' thing, did I?" said Adam.
"WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS BEFORE, ADAM. THE TESTICLES MUST BE ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE BODY AS THE TEMPERATURE INSIDE THE BODY IS TOO HIGH, AND THUS, THEY WOULD FAIL TO OPERATE CORRECTLY. THEY MUST REMAIN COOL IN ORDER FOR THEM TO FUNCTION PROPERLY. BESIDES, THEY DO NOT LOOK THAT BAD." said God.
"But we're in Eden; we're immortal and as such, don't need to have children. Who cares if it's too hot inside the… unless… you sneaky fucker! You fucking Sleekit bastard, you knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You had it planned the whole fucking time, didn't you, you big shit!" said Adam.
"NOW, EH, JUST HOLD ON THERE A MOMENT, I DO NOT NEED TO, EH, STAND HERE AND LISTEN TO THESE ACCUSATIONS, I HAVE IMPORTANT WORK THAT NEEDS…" stuttered God.
"You're a big dick!" interrupted Adam.
"NOW LOOK HERE, SHE…" started God.
"Don't you point your big fucking finger at her, you arrogant prick! Who the fuck do you think you are anyway, looking down your nose at her. You're the shit here and you know it!" insisted Adam.
"OK, LISTEN, SHE HAS GOT TO GO. NOW, YOU CAN STAY HERE ALONE FOR ETERNITY AND EVENTUALLY BE DRIVEN TO A BIT OF THE OLD 'ROBINSON CRUSOE'…" said God.
"What's that?" interrupted Adam.
"BEASTIALITY… UPON WHICH, I WILL CAST YOU OUT OF EDEN, BY WHICH TIME EVE WILL BE EITHER LIVING AS A FUCKED-IN OLD TROLL UNDER A BRIDGE SOMEWHERE OR DEAD. YOU WILL BE LONELY UNTIL DRIVEN, ONCE AGAIN, TO BEASTIALITY - OR YOU CAN GO WITH HER NOW AND LIVE TOGETHER AS MORTALS, WHEREAPON SHE WILL LET HERSELF GO, HER ARSE WILL BECOME FRIGHTFULLY HUGE TO SUCH A DEGREE THAT YOU CANNOT CURRENTLY COMPREHEND AND HER BREASTS WILL SAG. AND SHE WILL GROW TO HATE YOU UNTIL SHE EVENTUALLY DOES THE DIRTY ON YOU WITH ANOTHER MAN, BREAKING YOUR HEART AND SPIRIT, AND LEAVING YOU A BROKEN AND CONFUSED SHELL OF A SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF. WHAT WILL IT BE?" said God.
"You're a big dick." said Adam.
"YES." said God.
"Well, I guess I should stand by my woman, really, shouldn't I?" said Adam.
"SHE WILL RUIN YOU, ADAM. SHE WILL BREAK YOU. YOU WILL WORK YOUR FINGERS TO THE BONE AND SHE WILL HATE YOU FOR IT." said God.
"That remains to be seen." said Adam. And just then he felt a big lump of guilt stick in his throat as he realised he was in the buff. He quickly grabbed a few fig leafs and covered Eve up before covering himself, then God escorted them both to the gates of Eden and beyond. They felt a chill in the air and barely recognised the landscape.
"Stupid fucking bitch." said Adam.
"Aye? Well you've got a wee tadger." said Eve. Adam had no idea how to react to this so he cracked Eve in the jaw with a left hook, knocking her to her arse. She sat stunned until she began to cry.
"Oh, I'm sorry, babe, but you pushed me too far. You know I love you, come here." said Adam, holding out his hand and helping his wife to her feet, then wiping the blood from her lip and giving her a big cuddle. As they stood cuddling, Eve looked over Adams shoulder and saw a man on the other side of the moor. He smiled at her. She smiled at him and very quickly, Eve learnt to flutter her eyelashes.
THE END.
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Currently
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Chill Out
By
The KLF
Release date: 1993-04-08
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5:00 AM
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8 Comments - 16 Kudos
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Thursday, April 10, 2008
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You are about to leave MySpace.com
A (very offensive and unnecessary) short story
Paranoid and delusional, MySpace.com comes to and, shaking off an insomnia addled narcolepsy, he finds himself numbed in a dark and dank backstreet. Still confused, he strains through the fog between his ears and sees he was once popular but can't see why. It all seemed to happen so fast and just got way out of hand, and being too young to know any better, he just went along with it: mountains of money, cocaine, fast cars, video cameras and big breasted Las Vegas style hookers; he had it all.... then Facebook.com came along and stole everything.
His torn, semen and faeces stained suit is unable to conceal the bitter, spiteful monster that lies beneath any longer. He has guns but they're unsuitable for his purposes. His blade, still soaking with the blood of his last sexual encounter, is perfect for the job at hand. "I'll kill them all" he mutters incoherently to himself, "they all leave in the end... once they've had their little piece... every last one... bastards... i'll show them... i'll fucking show them all… repulsive lecherous bastards! i'll fucking murder every last one of them!" The prostitutes corpse at his feet reeks of reasons why.
The approaching sound of a woman's heals echo's up from the mouth of the street. He squeezes his penis through his trousers with one hand and raises his knife with the other. Everything else disappears. He stalks her for half a block before becoming distracted by a discarded cigarette butt still smouldering. He picks it up and enjoys it, remembering the good old days when he was able to piss in his own bath water and still come out clean, but as the cinder drops off, his purpose again becomes clear.
Once more, he hears her approaching - walking towards him, so nice, so confident, so unaffected… until she sees him. She tightens up. He tightens his grip. Just as she's passing he strikes out, ferociously plunging his blade right through the centre of her pretty little throat. She falls back, spluttering in shock, with one hand on the ground behind her and the other out to protect herself. He smiles as he removes his blood stained erection from his trousers then, grabbing the sides of her head, he forces himself into the wound and begins to pound. He can see the tip of his penis bobbing in and out of vision at the back of her mouth as she chokes, desperately trying to find breath. She claws at his clothes and streams of tears run down her beautiful young face until finally he ejaculates a small puddle of semen into her mouth with a little spilling out over her lip. For a brief moment she hangs limp from his slowly subsiding penis, before he pulls out and drops her to a twitching bloody heap in the gutter and leaves her for dead. For a second or two he forgets and everything is fine… but it doesn't last; haunted by that desperate signs return, flashing up behind his eyes, taunting him further,
You are about to leave MySpace.com
DO NOT LEAVE MYSPACE.COM
Go Back to MySpace
and it all begins anew.
Months pass. Again and again he strikes, mutilating both men and women alike, the entire time living out of bins. Then it happens. He's wandering the streets picking up empty cans and bottles, finishing off their dregs between murdering innocent's, when he sees him: Bebo.com. He's settled down with a chubby 18 year old with not one single redeeming feature and even less character, and he seems quite content with his lot. After receiving some spare change from the nonentity social networking site, MySpace.com walks a few slow breathless paces before calmly removing both his hand guns from his nap-sack and putting them to either side of his own head, then simultaneously, he pulls the triggers.
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From the Ashes
Release date: 2008-02-05
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3:46 PM
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Wednesday, March 26, 2008
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Being Collin.
A (very) short story
"Wow, I wonder why they never let me swim around out there beside them and do whatever it is their doing. It must be really good fun 'cause they do it all the time. Gee, I really wish they didn't keep me in here all the time. It looks like it would be cool to swim around out there. I could teach them how to swim around. Why don't they swim around? Don't they know they don't have to be at the bottom all the time? Don't they realise they can go up to the top? Maybe that's what they're doing. Maybe doing that's much better than going to the top… Yeah… Whatever it was I was just thinking just now felt good; I really wish I could remember what it was. That would be cool!" Thought Collin the goldfish as he watched his stoner owners smoke their rent money.
"Hey, man, how come there's, like, no combination of letters that makes a 'zh' sound?" Said one stoner to the other.
"Fuck… Yeah, man. That's, like, so fucked up." Replied the other.
"'Cause it's, like, a totally different sound to a 'sh' sound, and its not a 'z' sound, or a 'v' sound. It's, like, somewhere in-between all of them. It's a 'zh' sound; totally separate and distinct in its own right and it deserves to be recognised."
"Fuckin' too right, man. That's, like, totally out of order… Do you think they have, like, a dictionary for sounds?"
"Fuck… I don't think so, man… Maybe, though."
"Fuck… That's heavy, man… I hope they do... Then they could put that in it."
"Yeah, man… It's your turn to build."
"Fuck… No it isn't… It's yours!"
"No fuckin' way, man, it's totally yours. I just went to the shops for skins, remember?"
"No you didn't… No, wait… Yeah… Yeah, You did! And I built a number while you were away so its totally your turn!"
"Fuck… Where's the yak?"
"It's on the tray, man."
Poor Collin had no idea his owners were such stupid idiots.
"It's like if you, like, say the letter 'J' really slowly… Only just after the initial 'j' sound but before the 'ay' sound at the end, you've got the 'zh' sound really briefly in the middle."
"Yeah totally, man... I bet you, like, any money the German's have a letter for it. They've got fuckin' loads of letters, man."
"Yeah, man?"
"Yeah, man… The Germans are, like, really into makin' up new letters that make crazy fuckin' fucked up German sounds, man… They've got, like, this thing that looks like an 'S' but sounds like a 'B'… No, wait… Yeah… No… Yeah… They're fucked up… Their alphabet's got, like, hundreds of letters in it, man."
"What? They must be at primary school for fuckin' years, man… Crazy fuckin' fucked up Germans!"
Collin didn't know what a 'crazy fuckin' fucked up Germans' was but he thought it sounded cool.
A short while later there was a knock at the door,
"Fuck, man… I think that was the door!" Said one stoner to the other.
"Fuck… Are you sure, man? Did you hear it?"
"Yeah, I think so, man… Didn't you?"
"No, man, I don't think so, maybe you imagined it… This is really good yak, man."
"Fuck, yeah, man… This is fuckin' really good yak, man… I'm baked."
"Me too, man… It's your turn to build."
"What? No way, man… I just went to the fuckin' shops for skins, it's totally your turn!"
Just then there was a second, much clearer knock at the door,
"Wow… Fuck… That was totally the door, man… I definitely heard it that time! What should we do?"
"Shouldn't we, like, maybe just answer it, man?"
"No fuckin' way, man, it'll totally be Mohamed and we don't have the rent money… we're fucked!"
"Yeah… this is definitely good yak, man."
"What? Shut the fuck, man, what the fuck? Shit… Mohamed's at the fuckin' door, man, what the fuck should we do?"
Collin didn't know what a 'Mohamed's at the fuckin' door, man, what the fuck should we do' was but he really didn't like the sound of it.
"Lets just ignore it, man… He'll go away in a bit."
"But the telly's on in the kitchen, man, he knows we're in!"
"Why's the telly on in the kitchen, man? We're totally through here!"
"I don't fuckin' know, man, you turned it on!"
"No I fuckin' didn't, man, it was totally fuckin' you, I saw you do it!"
"No you fuckin' didn't, man!"
"Yes I fuckin' did, man!"
"No you fuckin' didn't, man!"
"YES I FUCKIN' DID, MAN!"
"See, you totally fuckin' did, man, now what the fuck are we supposed to do?"
"What, man? Wait… Wait… What, man? That's not fuckin' on, man, what the fuck?"
Then a third voice was heard from behind the door,
"Excuse me, bud I can hear you arguing over the telly. Could you please just open the door, please?"
Collin watched intently as his owners seemed to just stop completely. He blinked hard a few times, trying to make them snap back into action but it didn't work, they just sat there, absolutely motionless. After a few seconds, Collin thought to himself,
"Hmm, I'm sure they used to move around a bit… And maybe talk. Maybe they didn't, its hard to tell, but I thought it was… Ooh, this is quite good... Yeah, yeah, this is really cool!"
Then suddenly,
"Look lads, if you cant pay the rent, you'll need to move out, ok? I'll be back round later in the week bud if you haven't got the rent, you'll need to move out, ok? Right, ok."
"Wow!" Thought Collin, but still nothing moved. Then after another short while,
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, man... Totally fuck!"
"That was, like, totally Mohamed, man."
"Fuck, yeah, man… It's your turn to build."
"Whatever, man… I'm building anyway… You should too."
"Totally, man."
"Hey, man… What were we on about before? it was, like, something cool about… Fuck… What was it again, man?"
"Fuck… Yeah… What the fuck was that? Shit… I don't know, man, I cant remember!"
"Fuck… Neither can I?"
"Fuck it… Lets build these then feed that fish!"
"Yeah, man… That fish is, like, totally fuckin' stupid, man… What's its name again?"
"Shit… it's, like... Fuck, it's something fuckin' stupid for a goldfish, man... It's, like... 'Callum' I think."
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Currently
listening
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The Harder They Come
By
Jimmy Cliff
Release date: 26 June, 2001
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3:26 PM
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6 Comments - 10 Kudos
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Wednesday, March 28, 2007
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Good Boozers.
A short story
As ah wipe the crust from ma eye's, ah look over at the clock and see it's just before half four in the afternoon. Ah climb out of bed and take ma jacket off. Ma heeds got someone trying tae brake out it man, it's fuckin' killin'. Ma phone goes off and as it does ah realise am supposed tae be down the pub. Sure enough, it's wee Tommy askin' where ah am. Ah put ma jacket back on, brush ma teeth and head roun' to the 'captains rest'. It's a good wee boozer with all the features any good boozer should have: drunk old cunts, a barman that knows yer name an' a venue down stairs that puts on mad nights that don't suit the place; fuckin' mad brake-core and shit like that.
As ah walk in, wee Tommy smiles over an' holds up a whisky. Eh hands it tae us as the barman tilts his head back,
"Boab?" he says.
Ah nod. Ah canae remember his name. Folk just call me Boab 'cause am some fuckin' size. Two polis cunts come in. They throw us a growl as they walk past, headin' towards the kitchen. They're wearin' pushbike helmets. Ah clock wee Tommy's fizzer lookin' aw fuckin' 'don't growl at us cunts, you'll fuckin' regret it'. He's got mischief written all over his face. 'Here we fuckin' go' ah think tae mysell. Wee Tommy sees ma look ah despair an' just laughs with his eyebrows raised; eh knows ah know exactly what eh's thinkin' straight away. Ah reach intae ma pocket, fumble through some money, then hand him a score,
"that should be about halfers?" ah half ask and half demand. Ah've just got here, ma head still hurts fae last night and eh's already up tae no good. Eh hasn't even said hello. The first words out ehs mouth are,
"out side in two?"
Ah laugh and shake ma head in mock disappointed agreement.
Two minutes later, ah've necked ma drink and ah walk outside. ah spark a fag and look up tae see wee Tommy runnin' back across great western road holdin' a big plastic bag. Ah stand in the way of the c.c.t.v. and keep edgy for the coppers while wee Tommy picks up the polis bikes, which someone else had already kicked over, then pulls a big fuckin' motorbike padlock out the bag, chains the two bikes tae each other an' tae the nearby lamppost, then we just walk across the road an' intae 'the winter gills' where we wait for our coppers tae look like cunts, knowin' they're bein' watched.
"what d'ye think then?" ah ask,
"they'll call it in as they walk over tae the bike shop, looking fuckin' stupit as they do."
Sure enough, wee tam, as usual, knows the fuckin' score. Exactly as eh said. We piss ourselves laughin', havin' a quick whisky and water as wee watch them scunner over tae the bike shop, then we head off tae 'Oscar Slater's' before they get back.
'Oscar Slater's' is a fuckin' crackin' boozer, but it's a bit hairy. Tommy gets in a couple more whisky's then its on tae pints and it's ma round again. wee Tommy's sat down talkin' tae some old boy and am standin' at the bar with ma back tae the side door. Suddenly some'd'y fuckin' crashes intae me fuckin' screemin', gives me the fright eh ma life buryin' a fuckin' axe intae the fuckin' bar, demandin' aw the fuckin' cash, werein' a fuckin' balaclava. The barman's shitin' it; so am ah if am perfectly honest but the barman.... the fuckin' barman's fuckin' fumbelin' about all over the place, man, fuckin brickin' it. This cunt starts goin' fuckin' radio rental, threatin' tae chop folk up, reachin' over tae grab the barman. But then when eh goes tae grab ehs fuckin' axe out the bar, the fuckin' things stuck! Ah just take one step forward and crack the cunt with ma left and eh goes flyin' back intae the frame eh the door, totally fuckin' sparked. Immediately aw these old gray whistle test types are on um. They've aw got their belts off tyin' him up; beltin' ehs hands up behind ehs back, ehs feet together, then another belt holdin' the two the-gither. these old boys must've done this a few times before man, it's fuckin' impressive. Everyone starts singing my praises and offering tae buy me an' wee Tommy drinks but we have tae explain were no wantin' tae deal wi' any fuckin' pigs so we c'n only stay for one.
We have our drink; laughing at this clown on the ground who now, with his balaclava off, shitin' himself, just looks like some harmless wee dirty dying junkie fuck. Wee Tommy's making me out a hero but we both know he'd've cracked the cunt before the axe was even out the game. Tommy's a tiny guy, but eh doesnae fuck about.
We head round tae 'nice 'n' sleazy' after that. It's an exception tae the rule. It's no a proper boozer, there arnae usually any jakes cuttin' about in there; every cunt's got a fuckin' hair do as if they're all at art school and plan tae just hand themselves in at the end a term; a pub full a Ziggy fuckin' Stardust's. It's a good boozer, but. The staff are aw sound, even the fuckin' bouncers are awright, man, and that's fuckin' sayin' somethin'. As we're walkin' in ah say tae Tommy,
"Ah hope that wee birds workin' the night, man."
"Who, fuckin' Zebidee?"
"Naw man, no Zebidee. The wee gypsy girl."
"You still obsessed wi' her man? Why don't ye just ask her out?"
"Fuck off tam? Then we'd no be fuckin' back, man. This is a gid boozer but it's no the place tae fall aboot fuckin' steemin', askin' out the staff. behave yersell. fuckin' Zebidee but?"
"aye, but she's a nice lassie, man. She's always got a smile." "aye, she has hasn't she? she always says hello when we see her out fuckin' jumpin' about like a broken pogo stick, right out her gums, wired tae a fuckin' dynamo. Pure fuckin' wham bar man! lovely girl, but."
It's still ma round so ah try and work it so the wee gypsy serves me. Perfect timin'. Every time she serves me ah try and talk proper so she doesnae think am a pure mad hairy.
"Hiya, what can i get you?" she asks,
"hello there, can I just have two pints of Guinness please?"
"Regular or extra cold?"
"Just regular thanks", ah say with an inoffensive smile.
She's fuckin' lovely man, pure wee darlin'. She just skulks about behind the bar lookin' dead self conscious, not realising how fuckin' lovely she is. She's got long black hair with curls in it sometimes, and sometimes she wears specks. She's got a tooth missin' just at the left of her front teeth and pure lovely big lips man. pure wee gypsy girl, she's fuckin' hot.
We get our pints then turn to the pool table and stick our names down. We're not waitin' long before we win the table. More pints and plenty of pool. We're both pretty fuckin' handy with a cue so we get rid of any challengers with ease. Fuckin' daft wee students, man, canae play the fuckin' game tae wipe their arse's. At least that's what we thought till this wee darlin' dressed up in a fuckin' rainbow comes along and gubbs us both. Nice girl, dressed like a clown the same as wee Zebidee but no quite as mental. We get her and her mate a drink and have a laugh wi' them for a while then we politely leave them to it and head off tae the 'Variety bar'.
The variety's an unofficial Celtic pub, it's full a auld yin's durin' the day and a similar crowd as sleazies an' that at night. Our mate Mark's got a thing for one a the staff in here so we think we might see him but we don't.
"Ah'll phone'm before we head out tae see what eh's up tae", ah say.
"There was fitba own the day man, he'll be oot the east end fuckin' steamin', then off tae one eh eh's wee sisters pals fur ehs hole, later. Fuckin' tart man!"
"Wind it in Tommy man, he isnae that fuckin' bad."
"Aye he fuckin' is, man. He's aw doom an' gloom an' broken heart one minute, then flingin' it up anythin' it'll fit intae the next. Fuckin' chancer", Tommy says laughin'.
"right enough", ah have tae agree.
Am back up at the bar when ah get a tap on the shoulder. Ah turn round and it's the wee bird fae the pool table in sleazie's, the one wearin' the rainbow. Ah cant remember her fuckin' name, but.
"I'll get these, what are you having?", she asks,
"Guinness, cheers."
"The same for Tommy?"
"aye, cheers."
We're aw gettin' chattin' again; both myself and wee Tommy are on form as usual. The girls are laughin' there tits off and somewhere amongst the drunken stories - which are so fucked up they must seem made up but then, who could make up this madness? - we realise we're all heading out tae the admiral after for Kaput! We all relax a bit more and just enjoy each others company, until it occurs tae me that this cute wee thing might fancy us. Why the fuck would she be intae me? Ah haven't eaten anything today and we were shit faced last night so maybe it's just me being steamin'. Am not sure, but now every time ah open my mouth it's like another problems fallin' out it. No-one seems tae notice, least of all her. Why the fuck do ah get so nervous when ah think ah might pull? Wee Tommy's here, thank fuck, tae keep them laughin', then we're off out. The girls jump intae the shop next door tae the variety for fags, so me and Tommy are just waiting with our backs tae the wall; ah chin him about there names but he just laughs, shrugs and says,
"keep yer ears open man, we'll suss it out."
We're just watchin' the madness of sauchihall street fall all over its sell, when Tommy's phone goes off. He walks out intae the depth of the pavement as eh answers it, lookin' at ehs feet. Ah just space out for a wee bit until ah notice some wee dick in Tommy's face. This should be a laugh.
"Whit mate? Hold on a wee second, ah'll phone ye back… awight, cool, ah'll see ye in there", Tommy says down the phone, then looks the jakey straight in the eye and says, laughin',
"naw, you give me money."
Ah notice the wee cunt's got a lock-back in his hand, so ah step out behind um as Tommy walks intae um, makin' um step back.
"Ah said, you give me money", Tommy repeats.
The wee prick steps back ontae ma toes, and as eh does ah reach round and take the blade out ehs hand.
"Yer fuckin' tee's out, wee man", ah say down intae the top of ehs head, enjoying every word.
Tommy grabs um by the throat and says,
"empty yer fuckin' pockets ya fuckin' heeder! right fuckin' now."
The wee prick pulls an old phone and a claty wee velcro wallet out ehs pockets and hands them over, then Tommy rags um off down the street the other way fae where we're goin', kickin' um up the arse as eh does. The wee prick looks back tae check the size eh me an' gets a wee fright for his trouble. Me and Tommy turn and laugh.
"That was Mark on the phone, eh'll get us in there." Tommy says, as ah give him the wee guys blade.
Eh sticks everything in ehs pocket just before the girls spill out the shop.
"We off then?" the rainbow girl asks, unwrappin' her fags.
"Aye, taxi down here." Tommy points.
We cross the road an' at the other side Tommy bends down, pretending tae do ehs laces and drops everything the wee prick had down a stank.
"Did ye even check that?" ah ask, stupidly.
"Did ah fuck man, sort it out, fuck sake", eh says nearly in fits. We jump intae a taxi and sit down. The cute wee rainbow girl sits on ma knee. Ah put ma hand on her hip and suddenly go quite quiet. Thank fuck for Tommy's patter.
We get tae 'The Admiral' which is another unofficial Celtic pub, and have a few drinks upstairs before the doors open. Ah drink harder at first, trying tae get ma nerves sorted. She catches me ah think because she gives me look ah translate as 'relax, i wont hurt you'. Maybe am just para. Either way its daft, am fuckin' massive and am scared fae a wee lassie.
By the time we get down stairs am doing better. We're aw fucked; up doin' some fuckin' dreadful dancing. Aw the sleazies staff are in except the wee gypsy. Zebidees jumpin' about like a fuckin' loon. She says hello tae us, nice lassie. Tommy tells me Mark's just sent um a text, eh's no comin', he's off tae ehs wee sisters mates gaff for his hole, right enough.
Tommy and the wee rainbow's pal are up at the bar and we're sat down talkin' about tunes and gigs when she plants one on me. Ah canae fuckin' believe my luck and she's whispering in my ear,
"so will you keep me warm tonight, then?"
Fuck me sideways man! dont panic! Keep it the-gither man, just keep it the fuck the-gither. Ah smile an' give her a wee kiss an' tell her,
"if you'd like that", she nods and cuddles in.
It doesn't seem like long before we're in the taxi again and am askin' her where Tommy and her mate are, but she tells me no tae worry about them and how they're doin' ok. We head for hers, thank fuck because mines a fuckin' health hazard this weather. We're listenin' tae tunes and havin' a wee kiss an a cuddle when she asks,
"would you mind jumping in a quick shower?"
Ma heart fuckin' stops. She can probably hear ma paranoia buzzin' fae there,
"em.... no, yeah, sure", Ah say; ma voice trembling.
"And is it ok if I come with you?"
Fuckin' trout! Ah smile and she bursts out laughing. Next thing ah know we're in the shower an' am just worried am goin' tae hurt her because she's half ma size. Ah don't hurt her. This is amazin'! How did ah get this lucky? She's fuckin' perfect, her tits are fuckin' perfect. This image would be one a the most beautiful in the world if ah wasn't in it. She's up on the balls of ur feet with ur back arched, her hands on the tiles an' she's screamin' ur fuckin' lungs out. After fuck knows how long we're just standin' under the shower and she's cuddling intae me with her face buried intae ma chest, or at least the top a ma belly. Ma cocks hangin' down an' knockin' in between ur thighs. Am still ragin' about how the cheeky cow fuckin' asked me tae come for a shower so ah piss on ur legs.
About ten minutes later she tells me she's got tae be up in a few hours. So fuckin' much for keepin' ur warm, what the fuck was this all about? Ah get dressed and she watches, fuck knows why. She gets me tae the door and asks me if am goin' tae ask ur for ur number.
"Oh, aye, of coarse."
Ah take ma phone out 'n' she takes it off me an' sticks her number in then rings hursell.
"I've got yours now. so, will I meet you before the Errors gig or shall I just get you there?"
"Aw, right, well ah guess ah'll phone ye and then we'll sort something out."
Ah'd totally forgotten we'd talked about that.
"I'll look forward to it", she tells me.
Fuck, maybe ah shouldn't've pissed on her legs.
"I had a really good time tonight, Boab, thanks."
"me too, ah'll eh, ah'll phone ye.... well, when's the best time?" Ah ask nervously.
"When ever you like, the sooner the better though." she says smiling.
Ah give ur a kiss and leave. Ah check ma dialled numbers straight away, she must've typed it in ursell just tae save me the brasser. Ur name's Jane, how the fuck did ah forget that? Ah head home an' on the way ah text wee Tommy tae see if eh got home ok. He replies straight away. Eh's fuckin' shocked an aw, Jane's mate that eh pulled was called Molly. She had um fuckin' tied up. Ah cant fuckin' wait tae next weekend.
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Currently
listening
:
Dirty Old Town: The Platinum Collection
By
The Pogues
Release date: 19 September, 2005
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3:35 PM
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16 Comments - 20 Kudos
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Tuesday, February 27, 2007
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There Is Beauty In The World, But Only For The Blind.
as time thaws and the ageing process gains pace, making it harder for me to catch up, i find myself worrying that maybe i think to much, or that maybe I'm off my tits because i have thoughts that normally i wouldn't want anyone else knowing. for instance, i cant get my head round just how many people don't care about how they affect other people; they don't give it a second thought. everyone just cuts about suiting themselves without even the thinnest understanding of the potential consequences of their actions. its like they're all just ridiculous little atoms running around, randomly fucking into each other, spazing off then fucking into everything else. its fucking embarrassing. sometimes i really do think i actually am mental because i get worked up about things that no one else notices or cares about. i get caught up in a kind of loop of discontent which leads to other thoughts and i end up convinced about something daft like if i could learn everything that's ever happened, then i could mathematically work out what's going to happen in the future, then i get scared; becoming aware of how utterly insignificant we are (that old chestnut), and as a result of that, i get annoyed at the fact that it bothers me how careless people are to start with.
after falling through this gaping hole in my own character, i usually find myself subject to the tender mercies of gravity. thankfully, my screams are soon silenced by the very familiar sound of rock bottom breaking, shortly followed by an idiotic applaud similar to the one that wankers have ready at all times incase someone drops a pint glass in the pub. unfortunately, it doesn't end there as now, with my imagination unable to bare the wait of my existence, i watch both my flatmates sell their arguably soluble soles to cash converters, then buy them back only to auction them off on ebay a week later, and i realise, we are in poverty: literally and figuratively.
maybe its just that I'm growing immune to the zopiclone i gub in my seemingly failed attempt to put a collar on this insane insomnia which serves only to magnify my nothingness. or maybe I'm just mental. either way i still cant help but think that the term devolution should be more to do with us de-evolving as a species. i want to say its biblical but when ever i introduce my thoughts on our living in the end of days, i do so without subtlety, lose credibility and am understandably sometimes asked to leave.
even if i am mental, there is still definitely something fundamentally wrong in the modern conscious.
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Currently
listening
:
Dr. Octagonecologyst
By
Dr. Octagon
Release date: 29 April, 1997
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9:28 PM
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11 Comments - 3 Kudos
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Monday, February 05, 2007
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friends reunited
just as everyone predicted, i am a complete failure and am quite sure it will all end in tears, probably during a stint in jail. i have six children, all of which are fictional, and am currently unemployed. my ongoing struggle with alcoholism, the only thing that makes my life worth living, has left me unable to get or sustain erections and is also the inspiration for the book i am currently working on, entitled "apathetic clarity". this is a de-motivational life plan designed to purge any readers of whatever ambition they might have.
i often find trouble when stringing together the most basic of sentences and i lose my breath during the simple daily task of climbing out of my single bed, usually in the late afternoon. i get through the long and lonely nights wondering if i would actually have a personality if only i had someone to share it with.
i have an obsessive hatred for people that call themselves survivors, and i have woken up on several occasions covered in blood with no idea where it came from. sometimes i feel something pressing and pushing in the back of my mind, its hard to describe but it feels like me. it feels like me only worse. i think i need help.
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Currently
listening
:
Rum Sodomy & the Lash
By
The Pogues
Release date: 11 January, 2005
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12:36 PM
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13 Comments - 8 Kudos
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Sunday, June 10, 2007
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status report.
has rigour mortis already set in? have i, through reckless indifference, evolved into a rhetorical person? must i indulge in the intravenous consumption of copious amounts of religion, politics and sport, then snort a few keys of testosterone, buzz a can of chloroform through a towel, and then relax over a few pints of benolin in order to become a well balanced individual? should i pay a patronising man a lot of money to lay me down on a chezlong and tell me i live in an 'i cant' society, and that if i so choose i can brake the shackles of apathy and become the master of my own destiny? should i admit to myself that blaming other people for my own failings is something that's always come naturally to me? congratulations and commiserations, you are sane! isn't it amazing what you can achieve when you don't apply yourself?
i've long since come to terms with the fact that i'll never find happiness but have only recently started to consider boring a hole in my skull to go with the one i already have in my sole. i have not yet lost the will to live, nor have i lost any sense of self, but i have absolutely lost any faith i ever had in everything else.
apparently all you need to succeed in life is ignorance and confidence. well good for you! whatever talent i might have shall definitely remain homeless. and that's fine, i don't mind being looked down at, just so long as I'm not expected to look up in return. wanke | | |
