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[03 Jun 2006|12:28am] |
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mood |
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Rock the fuck out. |
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music |
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BATTLE METAL |
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Go out and buy "Battle Metal" by Turisas.
Epic black metal Wurzles. Feel the rock.
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[07 Apr 2004|10:08am] |
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Could anyone please offer me some clue as to why I was sent an Advance Reading Copy of some book I've never heard of, by some author I've never heard of ("Wild Animus" By Rich Shapero, apparently)? Addressed to "Alex 'Ladyboy' Whatsisname", appearing to have been sent from Germany, and claiming to be sponsored by www.BookCrossing.com (whatever the hell that is), this has me somewhat confused. Help, anyone?
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| A 549 Word Story About A Guy Once Known As Jillian |
[11 Jan 2004|12:03am] |
The Story Of Jillian, Part II: The Big, Blue Axe And The Royal Grapefruit Slicer
Exactly twelve days, three years, two months, a week and, ooh, let’s say about five or six hours after we left our hero last time, Anthea was to be found pottering about in the garden. This was an unusual event, for two reasons; firstly, he had no reason to potter so on this particular day, and secondly, because the twelve lions had once again escaped from the zoo, and he should by rights have been running about in a panic before getting eaten (presumably against his will, but you never know, with some people).
Why, you may well ask, was Anthea not assisting in the recapture of the escaped beasts? Surely, I hear you cry, such a brave man as this would not stand by and let innocent civilians be mauled to death by such ferocious creatures?
Well, sorry to have to tell you, but if think you that, then you’re stupid. HE ONLY HAS ONE ARM, HE’S TWO AND A HALF BADGERS SHORT OF A SETT, AND (although admittedly I haven’t pointed this out yet, but I’m going to write it in capitals anyway, just for the sake of continuity) HE’S SO DAMN STUPID HE CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A RABBIT AND AN OCTOPUS! Would you want a man like *that* trying to capture a dozen lions? No? Thought not.
At about two-thirty that day, Anthea, having finished his pottering, entered the wooden hut that he used to call Home (he had since, in a moment of extreme loneliness, re-named it John). As soon as he opened the door, he knew something was wrong; his senses were so finely attuned to the usual smell of his cabin, he could tell just from the odour that something was badly amiss.
Lighting a torch that hung on the wall nearest to the entrance, Anthea was immediately able to discern what was so damn wrong. Sitting in the far corner of the hut, looking like some kind of unholy pile of clothes holding a big axe, was a man wearing new, barely-used clothes, and holding a big, blue axe.
Anthea immediately recognised this man as the Royal Grapefruit Slicer, who he had worked with in the palace kitchens in his youth. The axe he had himself used many a time to chop the royal Wood for the castle fires. Realising this, and using his knowledge of the disappearance of the Royal Grapefruit Slicer after being accused of being the guilty party in the recent Big Blue Axe Theft scandal, Anthea knew that the Royal Grapefruit Slicer must be on the run.
And, like any good citizen, Anthea used his mobile phone to alert the police as to the Axe-thief’s whereabouts. The guilty man was arrested, and excommunicated from the Church for Crimes Against The Crown (but that’s another story entirely; suffice to say that it had to be washed many times before the King agreed to wear it again, and even then he considered it to be Unclean), but was allowed to stay on at the palace because, after all, he was *very* good at slicing grapefruit.
The next day, three peasants in the village were smitten by the lightening from the heavens, and the twelve lions were chased off the top of a cliff by a pack of hunting mice.
© 2004 Me
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| A Haiku |
[10 Jan 2004|11:11pm] |
"A Haiku" by me
Reading this will make
You really really really
Really really bored.
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| A 152 word story about a guy named Jillian - *PLEASE* don't ask |
[23 Dec 2003|01:28pm] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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Once upon a time, a guy named Jillian lived in a wooden cottage. Actually, truth be told, he was more of a young lad than a guy. But that is beside the point.
Jillian wanted to change his name to Anthea, because he was strange like that. However, this was a problem, because in his younger years, Jillian had been a slave, and had "Jillian" tattooed onto his forearm as a mark of slavery.
But Jillian was cunning- Cutting off his arm with his wood-chopping axe; he removed from himself all evidence that he was called Jillian. Then, holding a pen in his teeth, he wrote (in somewhat squiggly writing) "Anthea" on his other arm.
Jillian and was thereafter known as Anthea to all who knew him, except a few animals, who couldn't speak, and the odd family member that remembered his old name and thought it was silly to change it.
© 2003 Me
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