An Old Enemy Returns

This morning I went twitching out to put the bin out. The Raven Princess Spandex was standing out in the alley too, just standing there with a big white terrified face on her.

"You're very pale without your make-up on," I said giving her a dig for Hot Baby Roy, even if it was his own stupid fault he was knocked back.

"I'm still hot like butter on a scone," she said. Then she pulled a face like she knew it hadn't sounded as cool/sexy/whatever as she'd hoped.

"Yes you are," I nodded to spare the poor lady's embarrasment.

"Who used to live in this house before me and Princess Cheetara?"

"A couple of sweaty heavy metal rock and rollers."

"Were they into devil worship?"

"Not them, there were some satanists lived there before that, they once killed a goat in there as a sacrifice to satan."

Her mouth fell open and she started trembling.

"It's okay, they were harmless enough."

"This creepy bastard in a grim reaper cloak came to our door the other night and said that we had a very powerful 'grimoire' in our attic."

"The Death Owl."

"That's his name, that's his name," she started to cry and I gave her a hug.

"Listen leave it with me, I know him and I'm not scared of him. I'll find out what's going on. Don't worry about it."

I went back in the house and I'm going to light up the crack pipe. Hopefully Balkazaler will show up and tell me what's going on.

Johnny Davro and Peace Man come to a Jam

Today I was jamming with the sweaty metallers. It was wild, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. It was a new song and there were no lyrics yet so I just kept screaming about Satan! and Sex!

Johnny Davro and Peace Man were there, they are the coolest dudes in the city and they make the scene. If they go to a gig and stay for longer than one beer then whatever band are onstage have made it in Belfast.

In the middle of the jam Johnny Davro got up and started dancing all slow and metaphorically. Peace Man sat clicking his fingers. The sweaty metallers stood there nodding proudly between each other. Then when the song ended Johnny Davro asked me if I'd ever heard of Rimbaud? I thought he said Rambo so I nodded excitedly. He smiled a knowing smile and said:

"I thought I heard some of his influences in there."

After he left, the sweaty metallers said that he must like me because he said more to me today that he's said to members of his own family in his entire life.

I felt so cool I skipped next door and told Fabian Wildman, he was too busy slithering around the floor in his Zentai screaming:

"Mummy let me lick the bowl!"

I know how he feels. I love to lick the bowl.

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.

I been walking around all twee thanks to the valium. It's not cool because usually I like to feel all gangsta or rock and roll. Instead I've been listening to Nick Drake and wandering about the Lagan Meadows. It all came to a head when I found myself talking to a duck about Hermione. The duck quacked with indifference and flew off. I was soon overcome by the smell of sewage and fucked off home again. I stopped midway and poured the pills into the river.

Come halfway up the hill to the Malone Road I was twitching like a muthafucker. I bust into a car but there were no drugs. I managed to get the lid off the petrol tank and get a good oul huff of it. I felt terrible and boked all the way home where I curled up in bed and turned the heating on.

My neighbours started blasting their sweaty heavy metal through the walls but I managed to sleep anyway. I woke to screams at about two in the morning and heard cop sirens. I looked out the window to see Fat Rab (the man neighbour) getting dragged off by cops along with The Death Owl (I had no idea that creepy bastard hung out round there). They were both covered in blood. I wondered what the fuck was going on but then Hooka (the girl neighbour) came running out screaming that they had bought the goat with their own money and could sacrifice it to their lord Satan if they felt like it. A cop hit her in the mouth with their truncheon and knocked her flying. I don't like the cops but since she had started screaming about "the druggy bastard next door" (me) I'm glad he did it. A shame because she's alright to talk to sometimes if you're having a cup of tea out the back and she's out too. Now she won't be able to say anything with an F in it.