Monday, May 26, 2003
So after everyone told me how crap it was, I finally got round to watching The Matrix Reloaded. A big fuck you to all those who told me it was shite and a big thank you to Mistress SB, Drexil, Biancca, enemabagjones, Lisa and Steve for sharing this fucking awesome movie with me. I will be going to see it another fifty times more. And on the subject of thank yous, thanks to Darchylde again for the long distant Canadian phone call (you should sue the beer company for your phone bill).
Anyway…
Return of The Soul of Darkness – Part V
So Baby Bear whispered, ‘Shit, everyone hit the floor, it’s the pigs.’
I immediately stuck my face into the big pile of cocain and started snorting in an attempt to destroy evidence. Papa Bear and Mamma Bear hid in the closest closet, BB jumped off his stool and dived under a heap of old newspapers.
‘Open up,’ said the voice behind the door, ‘we know yooz are in dare’.
I lifted my head out of the pile of cocain, thought, ‘I feel fucking great,’ and said ‘don’t worry I’ll get it. I picked up my guns and walked over to the door and opened it. I didn’t see anyone.
‘Who da hell iz you,’ asked a voice somewhere down at my feet?
I looked down. ‘Fuck, you guys really are the pigs.’
‘Yez, some-a time known az, The Three little Pigz,’ said the pig puffing on a cigar, ‘but that doez not give me d’ answer to my question, who da hell iz you?’
‘I have to say this is really weird. A talking Pig. Who would have thought. I saw a show once where this guy had a dog that could make its bark sound likes words but never a talking pig. I mean, if you could fix that speach impediment, you could make some serious cash. Anyway, they call me, Hooker Bastard’.
‘Hooker, yooz pimping bitches on my turf? I’ll fucking put one in your head. Capiche?’ said the pig as he turned to one of his two companions who opened his jacket to reveal a gun.
‘Oh I get it now, you are supposed to be mafia pigs. That’s not bad, a little bit of a gimmick thing to go with the talking bit, not too sure on the Mafia thing though, but hey, a talking pig, that’s still fucking cool.’
The pig reached behind his back, pulled out a gun and held it at my stomach.
‘You tellz doze Three Bears dat Red Riding Hood wants her dough and if dey want dat Goldilocks bitch out of dare fur, dey better be talking to us’.
I looked at the pig for a bit, then asked, ‘is that a real gun?’
The pig puffed on his cigar and replied, ‘yes, and I’z not afraid to use it?’
So I pulled out my gun and shot him in the face. The other two ran away squealing like stuck policemen.
I turned around to face the three bears who had come out of their hiding places. Papa Bear and BB stood staring at the bloody mess on the floor while Mamma Bear went searching around for a mop.
‘Man we are in deep shit now,’ said Papa Bear
‘Why,’ I asked
“Red Riding Hood is going to be furious and the three pigs were our last hope for getting rid of Goldilocks. We are fucked.’
‘Listen, he pointed a fucking gun at me, what was I supposed to do. If you want, I’ll go and speak to this Red Riding Hood person and if Goldilocks bugs you that much, I’ll shoot her in the face as well.’
Mamma Bear started mopping up the blood and Baby Bear grabbed the pig by his feed and started dragging him away. Papa thought for a while and said, ‘OK, that sounds good to me’.
I put my gun down on the table and said, ‘Good, so who’s up for some bacon and eggs?’
Hooker 5:48 PM
Insults Here
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
So I had a wonderful evening of death last night. Mistress SB’s evil cats awoke my mutated allergy gene that my father graciously passed on to me. Thanks Dad. Anyway had a pretty quiet weekend, young Drexil has found a new couch to sleep on, hope you’re happy buddy, we all miss you, don’t forget to write. And the fucking dims on my car cut out last night. I had to drive with my brights on. People get angry when you do that. BTW this person is a laugh.
…So anyway, where was I?… Oh, right, don't have much to say though, but here it goes…
Return of The Soul of Darkness – Part IV
It was not the easiest thing, being in the forest again. It was raining and I could feel my hair getting fucked up with every drop. The voice in my head grew stronger the moment we arrived. I did my best to ignore it. The three bear’s house was quite lovely though, though most of it was filled with all sorts of equipment for making drugs. I found it hard to fight the urge to stick my face into a huge pile of cocaine that sat next to a large, brass measuring scale. The house itself was situated on a slope, which enabled one to look straight down, through the trees, to the basement of the forest.
‘You can sleep here,’ said Papa Bear stringing up a hammock between two wooden pillars that held the staircase to the bear’s rooms. ‘Not the most comfortable sleeping arrangement, but it should keep you till your business in the forest is done.’
‘The hammock is fine, thank you very much,’ I replied. ‘I once spent a large portion of my life sleeping on one of those.’ The hammock led my mind back to the nights spent in the Cambodian jungle with the Khmer Rouge*. I blocked that thought out of my mind as quickly as I could. Cambodia was not at the top of my list of things to think about.
‘Can I get you anything,’ asked Mamma Bear, ‘tea? Coffee? Porridge?’
‘No thanks,’ I replied with a smile, ‘I think I’ll just finish this bottle of whiskey and take a bit of a lie down till the rain stops.’
‘And besides, you don’t want any of her porridge, she makes it far too cold,’ interrupted Papa Bear.
‘Well yours is far too hot. The spoon melts in yours,’ snapped Mamma Bear.
‘Well, you snore,’ said Papa Bear.
‘Well you have big feet,’ replied Mamma Bear.
‘It’s ok for me to have big feet. I’m a fucking bear. Bears have big feet.’ Shouted Papa Bear flopping his two front paws up and down.’
‘Could you two just shut the fuck up.’ said Baby Bear.
Papa Bear was about to say respond to Baby Bear when there was a knock at the door. Everyone went quiet and Papa Bear motioned to BB to check the door.
BB placed a wooden stool in front of the door, climbed on it and looked through the keyhole. He turned round and in an urgent whisper said, ‘shit.’
Hooker 1:44 PM
Insults Here
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Return of The Soul of Darkness - Part III
‘STOP IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! JUST STOP SINGING THAT FUCKING SONG! I’VE HAD IT STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR HOURS NOW AND I CAN’T GET IT OUT,’ I screamed fucking loudly.
‘Gee, aren’t you just a bit touchy,’ said Papa Bear.
I ground my teeth and said, ‘Yes I am and I hate that song, I hate it. It’s driving me fucking crazy.’
I lit up a smoke and drank a good section from the bottle of whiskey.
‘And give me back my gun.’
I lent back into the back seat and grabbed my gun out of the hands of Baby Bear who had been swinging it around in time to the beat of their stupid song.
‘Fuck, as if the voice in my head wasn’t bad enough, now I have to contend with the three retard bears and, If you go down to the woods today…. Aaaaaaarg.’ I sat with my gun in my hand and stared at the road in front of me, while the hum of the car’s engine replaced all conversation.
‘You know what you need,’ said Papa Bear, breaking the silence?
I had my face buried in my hands, ‘it better not be that song, ‘cause I’ll shoot you all dead.’
‘You need a bear hug. Yip, one big bear hug. Nothing in this world beats a good bear hug.’ said Papa Bear and turned to me with paws wide open.
‘Just watch the road,’ I shouted, pointing at the pilot less steering wheel. ‘If fact pull over, I’m driving,’ I said waving my gun in the general direction of the roadside.
I climbed into the drivers seat to be confronted by sulky bear faces.
‘What was I, drunk?’ I mumbled, ‘letting a fucking bear drive.’
I put the car into first and accelerated off with silence in the car and three bear lips hanging on the car floor. I looked around the car at them all, ‘so what? I’m the bad guy now?’
‘We just want to go home now,’ said Papa Bear.
‘Well I just need to get the voice out my head and maybe get back in time to see my fucking girlfriend.’ They didn’t look at me or speak and I all of a sudden felt sorry for them. ‘Oh, crap,’ I said, ‘here’s some whiskey, sing the fucking song.’
We drove for a few more hours and the sun began to set.
‘… so anyway, firsht she starts stealing our porridge,’ slurred Papa Bear as he swayed to and fro from the whiskey.
He pointed one of his claws at me, puffed on his cigarette and continued,’ then she sharts with the ….’ He paused, looked around for a bit, then tried to look at me, ‘what wash I saying?’
‘I think you finished,’ I replied
‘Oh…you shee what I mean.’
He puffed some more on his smoke. Mamma Bear and BB slept in the back of the car; Papa Bear just wouldn’t go down.
‘Sho, where are you going wif those voices in your head,’ he asked trying to point at his head?
‘I’m going to look for something.’
‘Where,’ asked Papa Bear?
‘You wouldn’t know it but there is a dark forest that surrounds an awful nursery school. That’s where I’m going.’
‘Aah, The School for Other People’s Kids,* we live two blocsh from there. You can shtay with me,’ replied Papa Bear as his head fell against the window and passed out.
‘Great,’ I said and drank some whiskey.
Hooker 12:53 PM
Insults Here
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
Return of The Soul of Darkness - Part II
I woke up on the passenger seat side of my car, big hangover, lots of awful early morning sun. I looked out the window of the car at the frost covered daisies whizzing by and thought, ‘I need more whiskey.’ I fumbled around my pockets for a lighter and lit a smoke.
‘Can I have one of those,’ said the big bear driving the car.
‘Sure,’ I replied and handed him a smoke.
I lit it for him, he closed his eyes and took a deep, long puff and said, ‘damn, that is good, I haven’t had one of these in two days.’
‘Fuck, I’d go insane,’ I replied.
‘Almost did,’ said the bear.
The bear with one hand on the steering began fumbling around the floor with the other.
‘You should try keeping your eye on the road,’ I said to him as the car veered onto the other side of the road.’
‘Huh? What you say? I’m trying to find your bottle of whiskey,’ replied the bear as he looked up to see a truck heading straight for him.’
‘Fuuuuuck,’ screamed the bear as he screeched the car back onto the correct side of the road. ‘Fucking asshole,’ he shouted out the window and gave the driver of the truck a big furry finger.
I have to say I was a little pale from the near miss but spotted my whiskey on the passenger floor under a bunch of Ping Pong paddles.
‘Ok bear, I’m finding all this a little weird right now,’
‘How so?’ he asked.
‘Well last night I was driving along in this car, drunk admittedly, and then this morning I wake up and find I’m not. Don’t you think that’s a little weird.’
‘Well no,’ said the bear, ‘we were hitching along last night; you stopped, said you were drunk and would lift us if I drove. Nothing weird about that, everyone hitches.’
‘Suppose you’re right.’
I threw the last of my smoke out of the window, lit another and drank some whiskey.’
‘So where are you off to then,’ I asked?
The bear took the last puff of his smoke and said to me, ‘well me and my family are drug dealers and we are on our way home.’
‘Right, so you’ve come back from a deal then?’
‘No, we’ve been hunting down that filthy whore Goldilocks. She keeps coming over to our place to steal drug and we’ve had enough’.
‘Why don’t you just tell her to fuck off?'
‘Well we’ve tried and she just won’t go. We even called the police once and that wasn’t the brightest of ideas, hey Mamma Bear,’ said the bear turning his head to the back of the car.’
‘Yeah, that was stupid, we had to used BB’s college fund to pay them filthy pigs off.’
I turned my head around to the back seat of the car to see two bears staring at me. One was almost the size of the bear driving the car, who I presumed was Mamma Bear and the other was quite small, who I presumed to be BB or I suppose, Baby Bear. I turned my head back to face the road. I lit another smoke and took a generous swig of whiskey.
‘I’m going back to sleep now.’
Hooker 12:12 PM
Insults Here
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Return of The Soul of Darkness - Part I
No matter how much time moves along or how hard I try to forget or how much happiness enters my life; the cold, darkness of the forest and the hatefulness of the children at the gates of The Pretty Good Watch Tower of Amandrool will never cease to plague me. I often, and sometimes too often, find my thoughts lingering there for longer than is, perhaps healthy. It has now been of late, that the sordid actions of that day now seem to beckon to me and call to me and the bottles of whiskey no longer drown the screams or blot out the images, for there is one voice amongst it all that whispers deep into my mind. It took me a while to recognise the voice, as it is not a common voice and none that any earthly being could produce, for this voice was born in the despair of Hell and wielded by the darkest of angels, the voice is none other than that of, The Soul of Darkness. *
So I thought, ‘what the fuck, I thought I tossed that ages ago.’ It bugged me a bit to think that I would, in order to get the damn voices out of my head, have to go and trash it again. Anyway it didn’t seem to be too much of a train smash cause Mistress SB had her sister up for the weekend (and had to entertain her) and young Drexil had his new bitch with him, so I though, ‘might as well get this out of the way’.
I made a list of all the things I needed… it was a lot and I didn’t have the cash for it (the bowling balls alone were gonna set me back R25 566). So I phoned Christopher Walken and said, ‘hey you owe me money,’ and he said, ‘no I don’t,’ and I said, ‘yes you do,’ and he said, ‘really?’ and I said, ‘really,’ so he said, ‘how much?’ and I said, ‘$50 000,’ so he said, ‘fuck you, there’s no way,’ so I said, ‘I’ll settle for $1000 but you have to pay for this phone call,’ and he said, ‘OK.’
So I went out and bought guns with the $1000 and found thereafter that gun owners get pretty much everything at discount price, like, for free. So I got the basics: the original clothes that Keanu wore in The Matrix, Jimmy Hoffa’s body, Amazing Fantasy (the one with the first appearance of Spiderman), a cool car, table tennis paddles, black pepper refills, smokes, a vanity mirror, nice hair and Shirley Temple (she go a bit noisy after a while, so I told her to fuck off).
So I got into my car and drove off into the sunset to destroy the Soul of Darkness….um…to be continued.
Hooker 5:00 PM
Insults Here
Thursday, May 08, 2003
Hands up, who hates me? Hold on, let me rephrase; hands up, if you hate me and are a boyfriend of a woman who knows me. It seems lately I’ve acquired quite a few boyfriends who hate me. I had coffee this afternoon with a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in a while and I was like, ‘hey, Pam, how are you? Haven’t seen you in eight months, four day and sixty two minutes’, and she said, ‘I know, it’s been a while and my boyfriend hates you and won’t let me see you,’ and I replied, ‘that’s great, I always knew you were strong willed and not susceptible to that kind of thing.’ Anyway the bloke’s name is Paul, most probably could knock the shit out of me, likes slow walks on the beach, sunsets and Wrestle Mania.
Anyway, young Pam reads this blog, so tell her to lose the boyfriend and find a bloke who’s rich, likes me and will buy me drinks. Interesting bit of trivia about Pam: she once borrowed my TV and then sold it. I’ve only through intensive therapy, been recently able to deal with it.
Anyway, what the fuck, or as they say in Cambodia, 'what the fuck.'
Hooker 4:47 PM
Insults Here
Do you know that a pig’s brain has 3100g of cholesterol? I had no idea pigs had brains. I wish I had a brain. I wish I could live in a world where we all had brains. I wish I had lots of money, so I could buy a brain. I wish chocolate would start growing on trees again and we could all go out on a winter’s day and gather chocolate and have parties to celebrate the first buds of chocolate. But alas, even the chocolate rivers have dried up and the sweet sounds of the chocolate birds will no longer be heard. Everyone blamed the big chocolate corporations for The Big Chocolate Deforestation’ of 1984 but I firmly believe it was the collaboration of two beings: The Easter Bunny and Donald Trump. Anyway, I don’t really care anymore. I feel old and wish sometimes someone would put me down.
Hooker 12:48 PM
Insults Here
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