Already I'm hyped because I'm amped. I got up early yesterday morning and licked the bowl. I'm going to need to find a hobby in the coming weeks so I don't get lonely, what with Fabian Wildman having a job. There's only so much dog walking you can do. I think I might start going to the zoo and feeding the animals. I haven't been to Belfast Zoo in years and it'd be nice to go and hang out with all the monkeys and thank fuck one of my ancestors decided to jump down from the tree and walk upright. It's strange to think about how your parents and beyond influenced you. Like all the people who have big wonky heads because their ma's drank booze when they were in the womb.
I thought about researching my family tree but when I said this to Fabian Wildman he said that there was only so much I could find out on line, I'd need money to travel about the show so that was a big no no.
When I asked him for suggestions he gave me a funny look and said - "you could try getting a job."
Fuck me, he hasn't even started and he's already talking like a big capitalist scumbag. See if he starts catching shoplifters I'll loose all faith in humanity.
If he forgets who he is I'll play him this Neil Young song to remind him:
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Friday, 27 February 2009
Congratulations Fabian Wildman
Fabian Wildman found out today that he's got the job he applied for, pretty cool. We had a celebratory bottle of Vodka last night and he bought Battle Cat some dog treats. He made me promise not to say the name of the shop on here, so I won't. He also said if anyone works out who he is from this blog he'll let you away with shoplifting (to be honest I think he'll let you away anyway, so go for it).
Betty Blue and Hot Baby Roy came round and we had a right oul knees up. Well done Fabian. I bought him a new Zentai to celebrate, but it was really an excuse to get myself another leotard - leopard skin this time. Yeah!
Betty Blue and Hot Baby Roy came round and we had a right oul knees up. Well done Fabian. I bought him a new Zentai to celebrate, but it was really an excuse to get myself another leotard - leopard skin this time. Yeah!
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Pancake Day
I woke up this morning in a leotard. I cried for hours. How could that rotten bastard have done this to me in my sleep. My knife was still there so I suppose he could have done worse, besides once I got over the affront of it all it was quite comfortable.
"Nobody spark up a fag!" I heard Fabian shout from downstairs.
I ran down to find him opening the windows.
"We left the gas on last night," he said.
Then he said he saw I was still wearing my leotard. I told him someone put it on me in the middle of the night. He told me I put it on before I went to the 24 hour garage. I told him that was balls and that I'd remember that. He said that I might have put some clothes on over it but that I was definitely wearing it. I told him there was someone hiding in the roofspace. He told me he used to sleep in people's roofspaces. He once got locked in for a few days, and that there were all these weird sex dungeon devices and costumes, that's where he got his zentai. He was glad to see that I was into spandex fetishwear because he always worried that he was creeping me out when he did it. He said it was a far superior fabric to leather unless you're wanting to roll down the motorway at 70mph on your hands and knees (which he didn't).
Anyway I went and got dressed and once we were sure it was safe to turn the cooker on we had some scrumptious pancakes. Oh yeah, we rock.
"Nobody spark up a fag!" I heard Fabian shout from downstairs.
I ran down to find him opening the windows.
"We left the gas on last night," he said.
Then he said he saw I was still wearing my leotard. I told him someone put it on me in the middle of the night. He told me I put it on before I went to the 24 hour garage. I told him that was balls and that I'd remember that. He said that I might have put some clothes on over it but that I was definitely wearing it. I told him there was someone hiding in the roofspace. He told me he used to sleep in people's roofspaces. He once got locked in for a few days, and that there were all these weird sex dungeon devices and costumes, that's where he got his zentai. He was glad to see that I was into spandex fetishwear because he always worried that he was creeping me out when he did it. He said it was a far superior fabric to leather unless you're wanting to roll down the motorway at 70mph on your hands and knees (which he didn't).
Anyway I went and got dressed and once we were sure it was safe to turn the cooker on we had some scrumptious pancakes. Oh yeah, we rock.
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
In the wee small hours.
I haven't been sleeping so well and neither's Fabian Wildman, I got up at 3 last night after only a few hours sleep to find him sitting in the livingroom in a deep trance. I asked him what was wrong and he asked me what was wrong.
He kept repeating everything I said until I rushed out of the room and came back with a baseball bat. He started shouting that he had just been playing a trick.
I told him not to be playing tricks like that because they gave me the diarrhoea.
After we listened to the shipping news me and Fabian decided that since we couldn't sleep we'd sit and spoon coffee into us just to get all jittery. After an hour of scranning coffee we heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, armed with baseball bats.
No one was outside apart from a fat man in a leotard asking where Fabian was. I told him Fabian had died of the influenza during the war. He told me that he was here to pay his respects. He barged in before we could tell him to fuck off. He sat in the living room while Fabian made him cup after cup of coffee. He didn't say anything he just cried for a long time. He had a cake with him which he ate all to himself and never offered us a piece. I didn't want any in case it was poisoned with the deadly mistletoe. Then he said to Fabian that he knew him when he had a different face, and that if another man had to love his wife he was glad it was him. He knew Fabian's love was pure, unlike some other people who just wanted to plough his earth and make him eat the worms. He went to the toilet and didn't come back down. We searched upstairs for him but he was no where to be seen. I hope he isn't hiding in the roofspace. Incase he was I took a carving knife to bed with me. I hope I don't roll over in the middle of the night and stab myself in the guts with it.
He kept repeating everything I said until I rushed out of the room and came back with a baseball bat. He started shouting that he had just been playing a trick.
I told him not to be playing tricks like that because they gave me the diarrhoea.
After we listened to the shipping news me and Fabian decided that since we couldn't sleep we'd sit and spoon coffee into us just to get all jittery. After an hour of scranning coffee we heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, armed with baseball bats.
No one was outside apart from a fat man in a leotard asking where Fabian was. I told him Fabian had died of the influenza during the war. He told me that he was here to pay his respects. He barged in before we could tell him to fuck off. He sat in the living room while Fabian made him cup after cup of coffee. He didn't say anything he just cried for a long time. He had a cake with him which he ate all to himself and never offered us a piece. I didn't want any in case it was poisoned with the deadly mistletoe. Then he said to Fabian that he knew him when he had a different face, and that if another man had to love his wife he was glad it was him. He knew Fabian's love was pure, unlike some other people who just wanted to plough his earth and make him eat the worms. He went to the toilet and didn't come back down. We searched upstairs for him but he was no where to be seen. I hope he isn't hiding in the roofspace. Incase he was I took a carving knife to bed with me. I hope I don't roll over in the middle of the night and stab myself in the guts with it.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Lazy Days
I've been sitting in the house today doing some long overdue cleaning. I found some mushrooms growing below the sofa and I was looking forward to eating them until Fabian Wildman pointed out they'd be poisonous. I spent a while online and I ended up watching this Katy Perry video. I like her style. It's a good job the guy says "I do" at the end but we all know he has his doubts.
Saturday, 21 February 2009
She's Leaving Home
So yeah I woke up yesterday to see big removal vans outside Hooka and Fat Rab's house. So I went out because if they're moving I wanted to say goodbye to Hooka (and act menacing towards Fat Rab) but they had left yesterday and the removal van was just coming past to take a few big things out of the house.
I felt really shit because I thought Hooka would at least have said goodbye. I went in and told Fabian Wildman and he told me that it was a good thing because I could go out and find someone else because Hooka was a dick anyway. He also said he felt sorry for me because he'd read my blogs about her and he knew my feelings were genuine. Then I went and read all my old blogs about her and I realised I've been feeling really down recently, and mostly about her.
So here's a list of things that are good about her moving away:
1) No more Angry Anderson through the walls.
2) No more Death Owl next door.
3) People might forget about me pissing through their letter-box
4) I don't have to train Battle Cat to kill (see number 2)
5) We might get some fun neighbours who don't worship the devil
6) Fabian Wildman might stop having nightmares (see number 2, again)
7) I might stop being a moody bastard
8) Sometimes I'd be sitting out in the garden and all I could smell was burnt sage from some hokus-pokus affair. No more of that.
9) I won't have to witness the police dragging them out of the house in the middle of the night covered in goat's blood
10) I won't get done for assault for kicking the face off Fat Rab (it came close).
So there we go, my feelings for Hooka were like a ball of wool: soft, but terribly tangled. That's my last word on the subject and here's the lovely Avril Lavigne expressing how I don't feel about her leaving
I felt really shit because I thought Hooka would at least have said goodbye. I went in and told Fabian Wildman and he told me that it was a good thing because I could go out and find someone else because Hooka was a dick anyway. He also said he felt sorry for me because he'd read my blogs about her and he knew my feelings were genuine. Then I went and read all my old blogs about her and I realised I've been feeling really down recently, and mostly about her.
So here's a list of things that are good about her moving away:
1) No more Angry Anderson through the walls.
2) No more Death Owl next door.
3) People might forget about me pissing through their letter-box
4) I don't have to train Battle Cat to kill (see number 2)
5) We might get some fun neighbours who don't worship the devil
6) Fabian Wildman might stop having nightmares (see number 2, again)
7) I might stop being a moody bastard
8) Sometimes I'd be sitting out in the garden and all I could smell was burnt sage from some hokus-pokus affair. No more of that.
9) I won't have to witness the police dragging them out of the house in the middle of the night covered in goat's blood
10) I won't get done for assault for kicking the face off Fat Rab (it came close).
So there we go, my feelings for Hooka were like a ball of wool: soft, but terribly tangled. That's my last word on the subject and here's the lovely Avril Lavigne expressing how I don't feel about her leaving
Friday, 20 February 2009
Bows and Arrows, and Felt-tip Pens
Today I woke up to find Fabian Wildman out in the garden talking to Battle Cat. He'd his knife out and was using it to sharpen a long stick. I wasn't pleased about him being round Battle Cat with his knife but I was more interested in what the fuck was doing.
"I'm sharpening arrows to shoot the milk thief in the ass," he said.
"What milk thief?" I asked.
"Every morning I wake up to get my milk from the door step and it's not there, so I'm going to stay awake tonight and wait for the thief, then I'm going to shoot him in the ass with my bow and arrow."
"Fabian Wildman, we don't get milk delivered to us, that's why there's no milk."
"No, at the start of the year this big wonky fucker who looked like Sammy Wilson came round the house when you were out. I asked him if he was a milk man and he said yes, so I gives him a hundred pounds and says, that's for milk, call again when it runs out. We haven't had milk yet."
"Have you been smoking crack again?" I asked him.
He shook his head but then I noticed he had big blue nostrils.
"Have you been sniffing filt tips?"
He nods and giggles at this.
"I gave up crack," he said. "Not everything, so what if I want to relax with a sharpie from time to time. I don't trust a man who don't get wasted; they're never big in the mouth."
I took Battle Cat inside, even though I don't think Fabian would do anything to harm him, off his face or otherwise, I just don't want him to see Fabian when he starts digging a hole in the ground to fuck.
"I'm sharpening arrows to shoot the milk thief in the ass," he said.
"What milk thief?" I asked.
"Every morning I wake up to get my milk from the door step and it's not there, so I'm going to stay awake tonight and wait for the thief, then I'm going to shoot him in the ass with my bow and arrow."
"Fabian Wildman, we don't get milk delivered to us, that's why there's no milk."
"No, at the start of the year this big wonky fucker who looked like Sammy Wilson came round the house when you were out. I asked him if he was a milk man and he said yes, so I gives him a hundred pounds and says, that's for milk, call again when it runs out. We haven't had milk yet."
"Have you been smoking crack again?" I asked him.
He shook his head but then I noticed he had big blue nostrils.
"Have you been sniffing filt tips?"
He nods and giggles at this.
"I gave up crack," he said. "Not everything, so what if I want to relax with a sharpie from time to time. I don't trust a man who don't get wasted; they're never big in the mouth."
I took Battle Cat inside, even though I don't think Fabian would do anything to harm him, off his face or otherwise, I just don't want him to see Fabian when he starts digging a hole in the ground to fuck.
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Meeting my public
Fabian Wildman has a job interview next week. He's very excited about it, even though it's for some pish cheapo shop type affair which I know he'll hate. Since he told me I've been having these thoughts that I'll bump into him in five years time and he'll be like Bell Boy in Quodrophenia and I'll end up riding my scooter off a cliff in mental anguish.
I also spoke to someone today for the first time about my blog who didn't know I wrote it. My hot shot banker brother was on the phone for the first time in ages and he told me about this blog he'd been reading about this crack head who'd gave it up and I should read it because it might give me the nudge to quit. I didn't tell him it was me because I wanted to hear what he said about it. I was surprised he didn't clock it was me, but then again we haven't spoken much in a while and when we do we don't go into detail about what's going on so he wouldn't know much of the stuff on the blog. He must have started reading it recently otherwise he'd have spotted all the mentions he got last year. Oh well, it's me by the way, ha ha.
I also spoke to someone today for the first time about my blog who didn't know I wrote it. My hot shot banker brother was on the phone for the first time in ages and he told me about this blog he'd been reading about this crack head who'd gave it up and I should read it because it might give me the nudge to quit. I didn't tell him it was me because I wanted to hear what he said about it. I was surprised he didn't clock it was me, but then again we haven't spoken much in a while and when we do we don't go into detail about what's going on so he wouldn't know much of the stuff on the blog. He must have started reading it recently otherwise he'd have spotted all the mentions he got last year. Oh well, it's me by the way, ha ha.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Giving Fabian the Summons.
I hate the fucking Jonas Brothers, and when I discovered that the wee wanker across the street had started dressing like one of them and has had his hair permed I could have stormed over there and asked for Johnny Borrell's autograph back, even though it's fake (oops!)
Just then Fabian Wildman came down the stairs. This was the moment of truth. I gave him the court summons. He asked me what it was. I mumbled something and couldn't bring myself to say it. You see Fabian Wildman has criminal convictions and he's liable to get some time for what he did, even if it's only a few months. At the very least he'll get a big fine and a suspended sentence.
He looked really worried.
"I'm going to get really fucked over this," he said, he looked like he was about to cry. "Did that bastard bring it round."
"I'm sorry I went round your old house to kick his fuck in but he wasn't there."
Then he looked down at the court summons and started to laugh. I thought he'd went coco bongo for a minute.
"It's not for me," he said, seeing the surprise on my face.
"What?" I asked.
"This isn't my name," he chuckled. And then I looked closer at it (and without revealing his real name) they'd addressed it to (the equivalent of) Fabien Wildmen.
"That won't get you off," I said in disbelief.
"Sit back and watch," he said. "But don't really, I'm going to wait til a few days before the court to let them know."
Jammy bastard. I hope this works for him because if it doesn't the only logical option he has is to move house again and that would suck.
Just then Fabian Wildman came down the stairs. This was the moment of truth. I gave him the court summons. He asked me what it was. I mumbled something and couldn't bring myself to say it. You see Fabian Wildman has criminal convictions and he's liable to get some time for what he did, even if it's only a few months. At the very least he'll get a big fine and a suspended sentence.
He looked really worried.
"I'm going to get really fucked over this," he said, he looked like he was about to cry. "Did that bastard bring it round."
"I'm sorry I went round your old house to kick his fuck in but he wasn't there."
Then he looked down at the court summons and started to laugh. I thought he'd went coco bongo for a minute.
"It's not for me," he said, seeing the surprise on my face.
"What?" I asked.
"This isn't my name," he chuckled. And then I looked closer at it (and without revealing his real name) they'd addressed it to (the equivalent of) Fabien Wildmen.
"That won't get you off," I said in disbelief.
"Sit back and watch," he said. "But don't really, I'm going to wait til a few days before the court to let them know."
Jammy bastard. I hope this works for him because if it doesn't the only logical option he has is to move house again and that would suck.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
In The Death Owl's House
I broke into the Death Owl's today. I went round and knocked his door and waited for hours but he never showed up.
I went round the back of the house and bust in. It was easy enough done. Houses round the Holy Lands are made out of plywood and spit.
Fabian's old room has loads of pictures pinned to the wall of him sleeping and a really freaky one of Mr Ponti, Fat Rab and The Death Owl all round his bed while he's lying sleeping. I don't know who took it. I hope to fuck it wasn't Hooka.
I bust into the Death Owl's room. There was nothing in it but a sleeping bag on the floor. A stack of old dusty books (probably grimoires) and a wardrobe.
I looked in the wardrobe and found loads of pairs of black robes in it and a spool of rope.
I turned round to see that he'd stuck loads of strips of paper above where he has his sleeping bag with all these motivational phrases like: "don't waste your time on people who don't give a shit about you", "this is the first day of the rest of your life" and, this one I had to read twice to make sure I hadn't imagined it "you'll meet a lot of dickheads in your life, but it's worth it to meet that one really special person". I felt a wee bit sorry for him. I took another look at his stack of books and saw that most of them were self help books: "Fear is the Friend of Exceptional People," "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway".
All that weird, scary satanic stuff started to make a bit more sense, and if he hadn't been such a dick to me and Fabian I might have wanted to be a bit nicer to him.
I left the house and decided to break the news to Fabian. He wasn't there. He's been staying at Betty Blue's since they got back last night.
I went round the back of the house and bust in. It was easy enough done. Houses round the Holy Lands are made out of plywood and spit.
Fabian's old room has loads of pictures pinned to the wall of him sleeping and a really freaky one of Mr Ponti, Fat Rab and The Death Owl all round his bed while he's lying sleeping. I don't know who took it. I hope to fuck it wasn't Hooka.
I bust into the Death Owl's room. There was nothing in it but a sleeping bag on the floor. A stack of old dusty books (probably grimoires) and a wardrobe.
I looked in the wardrobe and found loads of pairs of black robes in it and a spool of rope.
I turned round to see that he'd stuck loads of strips of paper above where he has his sleeping bag with all these motivational phrases like: "don't waste your time on people who don't give a shit about you", "this is the first day of the rest of your life" and, this one I had to read twice to make sure I hadn't imagined it "you'll meet a lot of dickheads in your life, but it's worth it to meet that one really special person". I felt a wee bit sorry for him. I took another look at his stack of books and saw that most of them were self help books: "Fear is the Friend of Exceptional People," "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway".
All that weird, scary satanic stuff started to make a bit more sense, and if he hadn't been such a dick to me and Fabian I might have wanted to be a bit nicer to him.
I left the house and decided to break the news to Fabian. He wasn't there. He's been staying at Betty Blue's since they got back last night.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Valentines Dud
It took me a while to realise it but the Death Owl must have been out on a Valentines date with his honey babe. Some weirdo satanist girl called Esmarelda or something spooky. It wasn't until I heard Fat Rab and Hooka blasting Angry Anderson through the walls that I clocked this. So with everyone else loved up I drank a few more beers and fell asleep. I'm lonely and nobody knows it but me:
Saturday, 14 February 2009
OG Loc of the Holylands
When Fabian got back yesterday I didn't have the heart to give him the summons. he was taking Betty Blue off for a romantic weekend. I don't know how he was able to afford it but he said that since he's quit crack and not stopped stealing he's got a nice wee packet tucked away.
Once he left I locked Battle Cat in the kitchen and went round to The Death Owl's with a bottle of vodka. I sat outside on the doorstep for hours and drank the bottle. I was going to smash the bottle over his face. One of his neighbours came out and asked me what I wanted. I told him I was going to kick fuck out of The Death Owl when he came home.
He told me I shouldn't mess with The Death Owl because he was a wierdo satanist and at night he could be heard cackling and going over a load of mumbo jumbo.
I told him I was friends with Fabian Wildman who used to live there. He said Fabian was a no good druggy bastard. I told him Fabian was off the crack now and that he wants to get a job.
He said he hadn't a job either but that he had bought decks and he wanted to get lethal on them so he could play at a rave club. He asked me if I wanted to hear him. He took me in and played a mix of beats. I thought he was bollocks. He started doing all this freestyle rap which was arse bisuits.
It was all:
"yo fly homies, I'm so lonely
got me a gun, gonna shoot yer mum,
my shit ain't wack even though I'm not black,
what yo ass think of that?"
I told him he should hire someone else to do the rap but the beats were good.
Then he started into another freestyle just to show I was wrong:
"One day I'll be on top-o-tha-pops
living my dreams cause they don't stop
you'll be smokin crack wit yo druggy mate
and whinnin about how yo life ain't great.
Are you digging my fly rhymes homie?"
I told him he was the greatest rapper I'd ever heard. He told me he couldn't wait for the next election because he voted DUP and was going to do a song to help Sammy Wilson get re-elected. I eyed him suspiciously because if he likes that daemon then he may be in league with The Death Owl. I make my goodbyes and thanked him for his knowledge (see raps) and left. Then I went to the shop and got a permanent marker and wrote OG Loc on his front door. Then I put the empty vodka bottle through The Death Owl's front window and legged it up the fucking road.
Once he left I locked Battle Cat in the kitchen and went round to The Death Owl's with a bottle of vodka. I sat outside on the doorstep for hours and drank the bottle. I was going to smash the bottle over his face. One of his neighbours came out and asked me what I wanted. I told him I was going to kick fuck out of The Death Owl when he came home.
He told me I shouldn't mess with The Death Owl because he was a wierdo satanist and at night he could be heard cackling and going over a load of mumbo jumbo.
I told him I was friends with Fabian Wildman who used to live there. He said Fabian was a no good druggy bastard. I told him Fabian was off the crack now and that he wants to get a job.
He said he hadn't a job either but that he had bought decks and he wanted to get lethal on them so he could play at a rave club. He asked me if I wanted to hear him. He took me in and played a mix of beats. I thought he was bollocks. He started doing all this freestyle rap which was arse bisuits.
It was all:
"yo fly homies, I'm so lonely
got me a gun, gonna shoot yer mum,
my shit ain't wack even though I'm not black,
what yo ass think of that?"
I told him he should hire someone else to do the rap but the beats were good.
Then he started into another freestyle just to show I was wrong:
"One day I'll be on top-o-tha-pops
living my dreams cause they don't stop
you'll be smokin crack wit yo druggy mate
and whinnin about how yo life ain't great.
Are you digging my fly rhymes homie?"
I told him he was the greatest rapper I'd ever heard. He told me he couldn't wait for the next election because he voted DUP and was going to do a song to help Sammy Wilson get re-elected. I eyed him suspiciously because if he likes that daemon then he may be in league with The Death Owl. I make my goodbyes and thanked him for his knowledge (see raps) and left. Then I went to the shop and got a permanent marker and wrote OG Loc on his front door. Then I put the empty vodka bottle through The Death Owl's front window and legged it up the fucking road.
Friday, 13 February 2009
A Visit From The Death Owl
We had a visit from the Death Owl today, or more to the point I did. Fabian had taken Battle Cat for a walk and I was sitting round the house wondering if I could lick the bowl when the door went.
"Hello Tuesday Kid," he said with an overly friendly voice that didn't match the sneer on his face.
"Hello Death Owl," I answered. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes, give this to Fabian Wildman," he said reaching me an envelope.
I thought he was here to try to get revenge for Fat Rab and Hooka. The envelope was already opened so I looked in it.
It was a court summons for his shoplifting.
"Here, I'm not giving it to him," I said reaching him the envelope.
"Too late," he smirked pulling his hands away.
"You shouldn't have taken this," I said to him. "You should have said you didn't know where he was."
"But I did know," he smirked. The he walked off up the road. He was wearing his full satanic robes. I don't know why spides don't kick his fuck in. Maybe they're scared of satan.
Poor Fabian. I think we need to teach the Death Owl a lesson.
"Hello Tuesday Kid," he said with an overly friendly voice that didn't match the sneer on his face.
"Hello Death Owl," I answered. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes, give this to Fabian Wildman," he said reaching me an envelope.
I thought he was here to try to get revenge for Fat Rab and Hooka. The envelope was already opened so I looked in it.
It was a court summons for his shoplifting.
"Here, I'm not giving it to him," I said reaching him the envelope.
"Too late," he smirked pulling his hands away.
"You shouldn't have taken this," I said to him. "You should have said you didn't know where he was."
"But I did know," he smirked. The he walked off up the road. He was wearing his full satanic robes. I don't know why spides don't kick his fuck in. Maybe they're scared of satan.
Poor Fabian. I think we need to teach the Death Owl a lesson.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Big Old Plans (or new ones)
Getting off crack is exhausting work and spending a lot of Tuesday down the Lagan Meadows really took it out of me. I've been sick in bed ever since. Fabian Wildman gave me a cough bottle and made a joke about how I'm using it for its intended purpose for once.
Being in bed has given me more time to weigh up my situation. I haven't heard from any of my neighbours since but I'll take that as a good thing, for now.
Battle Cat has been up keeping my feet warm and I've been talking to him about how I'm going to stay off crack and get a job and do cool stuff. I'm not sure what yet but I'll figure it out I'm sure.
The first thing I'm going to do is burn my bedsheets because he's just pissed on them. But for now I'll have a wee snooze (no pun intended).
Being in bed has given me more time to weigh up my situation. I haven't heard from any of my neighbours since but I'll take that as a good thing, for now.
Battle Cat has been up keeping my feet warm and I've been talking to him about how I'm going to stay off crack and get a job and do cool stuff. I'm not sure what yet but I'll figure it out I'm sure.
The first thing I'm going to do is burn my bedsheets because he's just pissed on them. But for now I'll have a wee snooze (no pun intended).
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Accidentally Kelly Street
After sorting stuff out with Indie Kid I started thinking about sorting things out with the rest of the street: Fat Rab and Hooka, that would take a while and is best left alone for now, Mr Spoon, I was going to have to think about that; for all his huffing and puffing and moralising and all that crap he just wants to think he lives somewhere nice where (nomatter what people do in their home) that sort of stuff doesn't happen on the streets.
I know he likes to make weird wines so I went to the veg shop on the Lisburn Road and bought him loads of beetroot and ginger and an aubergine.
I went round his house and knocked his door but no-one answered. It didn't sound like he was in. I went to the shop and bought a notepad and a pen and wrote him a wee note:
"I hope you can make some of your nice wine with this lot. I liked the bottle you gave me last summer Christmas."
Then I left it at his front door in a bag.
I was about to go in the house when I heard this Rolling Stones song playing loudly from the living room:
I looked through the window to see Fabian Wildman slithering about in his zentai giving it his best Jagger moves.
He was shouting: "Betty Blue! Whip my ass! Aren't you hypnotised by my ass!"
I didn't look any more to see her. I decided to leave them to it. Fabian more than deserved the house to him and Betty Blue for the rest of the day. So I went round the back and got Battle Cat and me and him went off to the Lagan Meadows for a nice big long walk.
I know he likes to make weird wines so I went to the veg shop on the Lisburn Road and bought him loads of beetroot and ginger and an aubergine.
I went round his house and knocked his door but no-one answered. It didn't sound like he was in. I went to the shop and bought a notepad and a pen and wrote him a wee note:
"I hope you can make some of your nice wine with this lot. I liked the bottle you gave me last summer Christmas."
Then I left it at his front door in a bag.
I was about to go in the house when I heard this Rolling Stones song playing loudly from the living room:
I looked through the window to see Fabian Wildman slithering about in his zentai giving it his best Jagger moves.
He was shouting: "Betty Blue! Whip my ass! Aren't you hypnotised by my ass!"
I didn't look any more to see her. I decided to leave them to it. Fabian more than deserved the house to him and Betty Blue for the rest of the day. So I went round the back and got Battle Cat and me and him went off to the Lagan Meadows for a nice big long walk.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Indie Wank Boy Gets Fucked in the Mouth Part 2
When I came round this morning I felt awful. I sat in my room and shook for ages.
Fabian Wildman came in and asked was I okay. He says he could hear my bed jingle and it didn't sound like wanking.
I told him about hitting the Razorlight fan.
He asked if I wanted him to go and talk to him and settle things. It was a kind offer but I really need to start sorting some of my own messes out.
He said it was okay because he remembers how I cleaned up his boke when he gave up and that's why he doesn't mind doing the same for me now.
I told him I'd take this one.
I had a shower and went over the road with a wee present for the indie boy.
He opened the door and looked all scared at me.
"I've just come over to say sorry about hitting you last night," I said.
He looked like he wasn't buying it.
"I've a wee present for ye," I said. "Can I come in?"
He opened the door and stood back.
I gave him a bit of paper that said "Johnny Borrell".
"Let me tell you how I got this," I said. "Years ago Johnny Borrell was on crack like me. He went to Donaghadee to help him give it up. I met him when he was there. He was always walking around, wearing sunglasses and playing electric rock and roll guitar. I told him that I thought he was a cool dude. I told him I thought he'd go far and be famous. I asked him for his autograph because when I saw him on tv I wanted to be able to say I was the first person to get his autograph. So he gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you."
You should have seen the wee indie lad's face light up. It was like I'd just shown him how to levitate because he could have floated by the look on his face.
He offered me a smoke of a spliffy but I told him I was grand as long as we were cool.
He said we were.
I wished him luck and left.
Fabian Wildman came in and asked was I okay. He says he could hear my bed jingle and it didn't sound like wanking.
I told him about hitting the Razorlight fan.
He asked if I wanted him to go and talk to him and settle things. It was a kind offer but I really need to start sorting some of my own messes out.
He said it was okay because he remembers how I cleaned up his boke when he gave up and that's why he doesn't mind doing the same for me now.
I told him I'd take this one.
I had a shower and went over the road with a wee present for the indie boy.
He opened the door and looked all scared at me.
"I've just come over to say sorry about hitting you last night," I said.
He looked like he wasn't buying it.
"I've a wee present for ye," I said. "Can I come in?"
He opened the door and stood back.
I gave him a bit of paper that said "Johnny Borrell".
"Let me tell you how I got this," I said. "Years ago Johnny Borrell was on crack like me. He went to Donaghadee to help him give it up. I met him when he was there. He was always walking around, wearing sunglasses and playing electric rock and roll guitar. I told him that I thought he was a cool dude. I told him I thought he'd go far and be famous. I asked him for his autograph because when I saw him on tv I wanted to be able to say I was the first person to get his autograph. So he gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you."
You should have seen the wee indie lad's face light up. It was like I'd just shown him how to levitate because he could have floated by the look on his face.
He offered me a smoke of a spliffy but I told him I was grand as long as we were cool.
He said we were.
I wished him luck and left.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Indie Wank Boy Gets Fucked in the Mouth
I've been dying for a smoke of crack all week and today I couldn't take it any more. I went out to the bin to search for my pipe, to find that the bins had already been emptied. I went in the house and started pacing up and down the living room thinking about how I could get myself some crack and be back here and high in under an hour.
Then I went to the cupboard and found a bottle of Vodka. I thought if I'd a few slugs of it it'd calm me down. I downed it in about ten minutes and felt great for about half an hour then I boked all over the place and passed out.
When I woke up the house was empty and in darkness.
I went across the street still a bit pissed to speak to the indie dick who filmed me pishing through Hooka's letter box.
"What do you want?" he said.
I grabbed him by the throat.
"What do you think you're at videoing me with your phone you wee wanker?"
Some Razorlight rock and rollers came piling out of the livingroom.
"Let go of him bozo," they said.
"Okay," I said letting him go. "I want you to destroy that video."
He started laughing and looking at his mates. I kneed him in the balls and brought my fist up to hit him in the mouth as he doubled up.
He keeled over unconscious. His mates stood there looking worried.
"Any of you wee wankers fancy a taste?" I asked them. They shook their heads.
I went through the wee indie wanker's pockets and found his phone. I found the video on it and deleted it. Then I put it back in his pocket.
"See when he comes round," I said to his mates. "Tell him if he's made any copies he'd better delete them too, because if I find out there's any floating around I'll give him some more of the same."
Then I went to the cupboard and found a bottle of Vodka. I thought if I'd a few slugs of it it'd calm me down. I downed it in about ten minutes and felt great for about half an hour then I boked all over the place and passed out.
When I woke up the house was empty and in darkness.
I went across the street still a bit pissed to speak to the indie dick who filmed me pishing through Hooka's letter box.
"What do you want?" he said.
I grabbed him by the throat.
"What do you think you're at videoing me with your phone you wee wanker?"
Some Razorlight rock and rollers came piling out of the livingroom.
"Let go of him bozo," they said.
"Okay," I said letting him go. "I want you to destroy that video."
He started laughing and looking at his mates. I kneed him in the balls and brought my fist up to hit him in the mouth as he doubled up.
He keeled over unconscious. His mates stood there looking worried.
"Any of you wee wankers fancy a taste?" I asked them. They shook their heads.
I went through the wee indie wanker's pockets and found his phone. I found the video on it and deleted it. Then I put it back in his pocket.
"See when he comes round," I said to his mates. "Tell him if he's made any copies he'd better delete them too, because if I find out there's any floating around I'll give him some more of the same."
Saturday, 7 February 2009
Happy Families
I missed Battle Cat's first snow. When it snowed really heavily on Thursday that was the first time it lay since I got him. Fabian Wildman took him for a walk that day. I was gutted when Fabian told me the story. It was pretty funny. He was a bit spooked by it at first and kept growling at it and was feared to put his foot down on it (this was when it was starting to lay). But once he caught on it didn't harm him he was woofing and rolling around in it like a good one. Fabian didn't keep him out in it too long because he's still a pup and he didn't want him catching a cold.
Fabian Wildman spends more time with him than I do, so I'm starting from today being a better owner. I've also got to give a shout out to Fabian for being such a good housemate, and to think I thought once that Fabian would steal him and sell him for crack. So my apologies to you too mate.
I took Battle Cat out yesterday and I was hoping we could build a snowman together but all the snow had frozen to ice so we just skidded about the place before going home to heat up in front of the fire. I got a nice half bottle of whiskey on the way home and sat and had hot whiskeys with Fabian while Battle Cat sat and chewed on his plastic bone.
Fabian Wildman spends more time with him than I do, so I'm starting from today being a better owner. I've also got to give a shout out to Fabian for being such a good housemate, and to think I thought once that Fabian would steal him and sell him for crack. So my apologies to you too mate.
I took Battle Cat out yesterday and I was hoping we could build a snowman together but all the snow had frozen to ice so we just skidded about the place before going home to heat up in front of the fire. I got a nice half bottle of whiskey on the way home and sat and had hot whiskeys with Fabian while Battle Cat sat and chewed on his plastic bone.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Kinky Mr Spoon
Today Mr Spoon called round to say that him and some of the other residents had heard of my pissing through Hooka and Fat Rab's door. He said they were all thoroughly disgusted and started going over some other crap about decent behaviour and animals.
I'd half a litre of vodka in me at this point so I asked him if he'd like to see the inside of his living room from my living room.
He said he didn't know what I meant.
I asked him if anyone had ever put his head through a brick wall and would he like me to do it for him.
He said no.
Then I told him that I'd let him off this time but he'd best fuck off and mind his own business unless he'd like to wake up some night and find himself dangling over his wife in a suspension harness.
He said I was vile and bared his teeth at me.
I asked him if they were false teeth.
He said they were.
I told him mine were real and unlike his they could break open boiled sweets.
He burst into tears.
I opened the door for him and he hobbled out of it dejected.
That felt great. I stuck on this snoop and JT song on repeat:
I danced round the living room until I boked all over the sofa. I'll clean it up in a bit but I'll have a snooze first.
I'd half a litre of vodka in me at this point so I asked him if he'd like to see the inside of his living room from my living room.
He said he didn't know what I meant.
I asked him if anyone had ever put his head through a brick wall and would he like me to do it for him.
He said no.
Then I told him that I'd let him off this time but he'd best fuck off and mind his own business unless he'd like to wake up some night and find himself dangling over his wife in a suspension harness.
He said I was vile and bared his teeth at me.
I asked him if they were false teeth.
He said they were.
I told him mine were real and unlike his they could break open boiled sweets.
He burst into tears.
I opened the door for him and he hobbled out of it dejected.
That felt great. I stuck on this snoop and JT song on repeat:
I danced round the living room until I boked all over the sofa. I'll clean it up in a bit but I'll have a snooze first.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
1 Day Off Crack
I couldn't sleep last night, I think I managed to drift off for twenty minutes here and there but nothing like proper sleep. Anyways I heard Fabian Wildman take Battle Cat for a walk and when he came back he called me down to the kitchen.
"Okay so It's been 24 hours since your last smoke of crack," he said. "So me and Battle Cat have got you a cake for your one day anniversary."
"Thanks," I said, I was a bit overwhelmed because I really wasn't expecting this.
"You see when you've done a week we'll have another, then every month, then so on. You know."
"Aw I already owe you a day, week and month one," I said.
"Never worry," he said. "Let's eat cake."
"Woof!" said Battle Cat.
We were tucking into some cream cake when there was a knock on the door.
Fabian went to answer it. I heard him talking to Fat Rab and Hooka. They sounded angry. They were shouting about the police.
Fabian invited them in.
"There's some people here to see you," he said.
"That wee indie wanker across the street videoed you on his mobile not only pouring milk through our door, but pissing in it too."
I shrugged.
"You'd need to do better than that," Fat Rab said. "Unless you want to wake up some night to some of our occult mates kicking your door in."
"Tuesday Kid here is celebrating giving up crack," Fabian Wildman said. "He did a lot of stuff on crack that he can't remember, so if he can't remember it, everyone else should forget it."
I looked at Hooka but there was nothing soft in the way she looked at me.
"We're going to the fucking police," Fat Rab said all smug. "Then we'll set the lads on you."
"Fine, we'll stab the pair of you," Fabian said.
Hooka gave a wee sound like she was scared, and Fat Rab tried to look like he wasn't scared but it was obvious he hadn't expected Fabian's answer.
"It's okay," Fabian said. "We won't kill you. But we'll stab some of your satanist mates too, especially the Death Owl. I know none of you dicks can fight for fuck."
Fat Rab and Hooka just stood there looking stunned.
"Right now if you've said your piece, fuck off," Fabian said motioning at the door.
"We're gonna party down, they can go fuck themselves," he said taking a bit mouthful of cake.
"Okay so It's been 24 hours since your last smoke of crack," he said. "So me and Battle Cat have got you a cake for your one day anniversary."
"Thanks," I said, I was a bit overwhelmed because I really wasn't expecting this.
"You see when you've done a week we'll have another, then every month, then so on. You know."
"Aw I already owe you a day, week and month one," I said.
"Never worry," he said. "Let's eat cake."
"Woof!" said Battle Cat.
We were tucking into some cream cake when there was a knock on the door.
Fabian went to answer it. I heard him talking to Fat Rab and Hooka. They sounded angry. They were shouting about the police.
Fabian invited them in.
"There's some people here to see you," he said.
"That wee indie wanker across the street videoed you on his mobile not only pouring milk through our door, but pissing in it too."
I shrugged.
"You'd need to do better than that," Fat Rab said. "Unless you want to wake up some night to some of our occult mates kicking your door in."
"Tuesday Kid here is celebrating giving up crack," Fabian Wildman said. "He did a lot of stuff on crack that he can't remember, so if he can't remember it, everyone else should forget it."
I looked at Hooka but there was nothing soft in the way she looked at me.
"We're going to the fucking police," Fat Rab said all smug. "Then we'll set the lads on you."
"Fine, we'll stab the pair of you," Fabian said.
Hooka gave a wee sound like she was scared, and Fat Rab tried to look like he wasn't scared but it was obvious he hadn't expected Fabian's answer.
"It's okay," Fabian said. "We won't kill you. But we'll stab some of your satanist mates too, especially the Death Owl. I know none of you dicks can fight for fuck."
Fat Rab and Hooka just stood there looking stunned.
"Right now if you've said your piece, fuck off," Fabian said motioning at the door.
"We're gonna party down, they can go fuck themselves," he said taking a bit mouthful of cake.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Giving up on the bad stuff
Okay so that's me done with the oul crack. I've given up and binned my crack pipe. Me and Fabian Wildman pissed on it, then we let Battle Cat piss on it, just so I really wouldn't want to use it again.
I've me bottle of cough syrup and I'm gonna take it steady. I wonder what life will be like now me and Fabian will both be off crack. He's out looking for a job, says he's sick of the dole. Says it's hard to get a job because everyone is looking for one and a lot of ones that already have one want two. That's a bit strange. No one should have to work two jobs to get by, or even have a nice life.
Everyone should get some time on the dole like me, just clears your head, and if you've a cool mate like Fabian and a puppy dog like Battle Cat it can be a lot of fun.
But I also remember how lonely I was last year and sadly it's like that for a lot of unemployed folk.
I'm gonna settle down now and get some sleep. I hope I don't piss the bed.
I've me bottle of cough syrup and I'm gonna take it steady. I wonder what life will be like now me and Fabian will both be off crack. He's out looking for a job, says he's sick of the dole. Says it's hard to get a job because everyone is looking for one and a lot of ones that already have one want two. That's a bit strange. No one should have to work two jobs to get by, or even have a nice life.
Everyone should get some time on the dole like me, just clears your head, and if you've a cool mate like Fabian and a puppy dog like Battle Cat it can be a lot of fun.
But I also remember how lonely I was last year and sadly it's like that for a lot of unemployed folk.
I'm gonna settle down now and get some sleep. I hope I don't piss the bed.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
My Drug Buddy
Since I'm giving up crack I thought I'd share some of my druggie memories with you.
One of my first drug experiences was taking dope when I was sixteen. I went round to my friend's house when his parents were away on holiday. We were drinking Thunderbirds when he pulled out a joint he'd pre-rolled. I didn't believe it was real but after smoking it I started to feel all sleepy and giggly.
While we were talking balls about things we could do, just stupid stuff to make each other laugh, he suggested trying on his mum's clothes. His mum was a really fat lady and to be honest two of us could have fitted into one of her dresses.
I thought it was funny but a bit weird so I said no. He told me he'd give me a fiver if I did it so I said yes.
He got this big flowery number she wore to special events (giro day). He put one on too, even though there was no money on the table for him.
We were clowning around in his mums dresses when suddenly he tried to kiss me on the lips. I jolted back in shock, it was totally unexpected.
He said he was scared I'd tell people and that he wanted me to tell him that I wouldn't. He looked really threatening and had an empty glass in his hand. I thought he'd use it as a weapon.
I threw the dress off me and grabbed my clothes and legged it. He ran after me screaming what would happen if I told anyone about him, but he had to stop at the front door. It scared the shit out of me. I was so shocked that I forgot to get my fiver. We had just finished secondary school and I never saw him again.
Last I'd heard he'd come out, and I felt glad for him because I remember how worried he was that someone would find out. Poor guy.
I didn't smoke dope for over a year after that, and filled in by sniffing felt tips and licking pritsticks.
One of my first drug experiences was taking dope when I was sixteen. I went round to my friend's house when his parents were away on holiday. We were drinking Thunderbirds when he pulled out a joint he'd pre-rolled. I didn't believe it was real but after smoking it I started to feel all sleepy and giggly.
While we were talking balls about things we could do, just stupid stuff to make each other laugh, he suggested trying on his mum's clothes. His mum was a really fat lady and to be honest two of us could have fitted into one of her dresses.
I thought it was funny but a bit weird so I said no. He told me he'd give me a fiver if I did it so I said yes.
He got this big flowery number she wore to special events (giro day). He put one on too, even though there was no money on the table for him.
We were clowning around in his mums dresses when suddenly he tried to kiss me on the lips. I jolted back in shock, it was totally unexpected.
He said he was scared I'd tell people and that he wanted me to tell him that I wouldn't. He looked really threatening and had an empty glass in his hand. I thought he'd use it as a weapon.
I threw the dress off me and grabbed my clothes and legged it. He ran after me screaming what would happen if I told anyone about him, but he had to stop at the front door. It scared the shit out of me. I was so shocked that I forgot to get my fiver. We had just finished secondary school and I never saw him again.
Last I'd heard he'd come out, and I felt glad for him because I remember how worried he was that someone would find out. Poor guy.
I didn't smoke dope for over a year after that, and filled in by sniffing felt tips and licking pritsticks.
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