Lets Play Pinball

Hot Baby Roy hasn't been here all week so I called him to ask where he was. He said that he was in Donegal with Hot Firey Love Lady. I told him I was happy for him but that this call was costing me da bomb (I think that's the right context to say that, isn't it?).

I'm jealous as fuck of him and gingerella swanning around being all cool and luved up and me just lonely and playing pinball in my tightest spandex. Sometimes I think I'll go coco bongo and walk out into the middle of the street wielding a baseball bat and singing "I'm Tuesday Kid and I am funky," as I batter civilians at first, and cops as they try to play the heroes. Something is holding me back though and I'm not sure what it is. It's something to do with Battle Cat, something about how I was sure I'd bought a big violent dog (in the making) but he ended up a big cuddly friend of a dog. I hope it's my influence. I hope I'm holding back because I'd end up shouting for a bit and make it obvious that I'm unhappy. I want my parties back, I want a big bag of crack. Wages are in, maybe I'll call up Zim Van Bindle and see if he wants to watch the sweat drip from my balls.

No Party for Me, I Still Go and Fuck Myself

I didn't go to work today, not because I'm bad, or I'm depressed but because the Leotard Girls had a party last night and kept me awake all fucking night long? On a Tuesday? My day? It was all to entice Hot Baby Roy into their lair of gyrating spandex. He didn't go for it. He wasn't here. I nearly went round in his place to say I'd do but no I couldn't be arsed. It spilled out into the street in the morning and someone called the cops.

I don't know who did and I don't approve on principle but I'm glad they did. I don't have it in me any more to go wielding baseball bats at tramps.

I called in sick and slept til it was too hot and I was stuck to the bedsheets with my sweat (this is supposed to sound sexy - I've just realised it doesn't).

Bum Fights

Somehow Wino Jo's old drinking buddy Foosted Wotsit head has found out that Wino Jo is staying with me. Seems he didn't hear that Wino Jo is off the drink and he arrived up at the door with a big three litre Scabby Nettle Gang welcome pack.

Wino Jo was happy to see him but Hot Baby Roy told him to get knotted. That Wino Jo had been dry for a while and was staying dry despite what degenerates like Foosted Wotsit Head tried to do about it.

Foosted Wotsit Head beat the clean shite out of him and showed him that alcos can fight as well as healthy boys anyday, or that was the way Wino Jo put it.

Foosted Wotsit Head didn't give him a severe enough beating though because it wasn't long before Hot Baby Roy was on his feet and in and out of the broom cupboard and beating the shite clean out of Foosted Wotsit head with a baseball bat.

Wino Jo said he just sat back and laughed and he never realised how funny street drunks were until he stopped being one.

I thought this was a shit thing to say about his old mucker Foosted Wotsit Head but since Foosted Wotsit Head fled the city last year when I thought he'd killed Wino Jo in an alcohol fueled rage I patted Hot Baby Roy on the back and told him there was only room for one ginger in this house.

The Raven Princess Spandex Visits

Working on the assumption that Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo now live with me, The Raven Princess Spandex was our first foot of the year and she didn't bring money, coal or shortbread like she's supposed to. I'm hoping that her beauty is the good luck we need, or I need.

She was a bit strange with me, probably because last time I saw her I boked on myself. She didn't mention it and I felt that I shouldn't.

She asked if Hot Baby Roy was in and I told her that he wasn't. Even though he was up in his bed sleeping. It reminds me of last year when Fabian Wildman and Betty Blue were together and fucking all over the house even though Hot Baby Roy and The Raven Princess Spandex haven't fucked yet (so far as I know).

He keeps saying he's going to visit sex shops on Gresham St and buy a whip for her to hurt him with. I offered him a baseball bat and he considered it but no.

I asked him if they were a couple and he said not yet. I asked him about Princess Cheetara and he says if I leave her for a while she might get me mixed up with Wino Jo and then I can that it was him and not me that boked on himself but for now that door was closed.

I think he wants them both for himself and if he gets them both he'll be getting a round or two with the baseball bat from me.

Tuesday Kid The Teacher - Lesson Number 3

After Spitboke stopped crying she left. She did give me her number and I think I'm going to call her but I don't hold out much hope for it. It's probably the flirt divert. I used to phone it sometimes when I was bored and leave sappy messages that bordered on unhinged, in the hope of getting on the radio but then I got paranoid that the cops would be tracking my number so I changed it. This better not happen again.

I went for a walk down to Stranmillis because I think it's time I had it out with my protege. What can he possibly learn from me other than not to do the things I've done?

I eventually found him with some of his mates. He said they were going to go and smash some windows. Then it hit me. He was about to make all the mistakes I've already made.

I told him that smashing windows was fun but that someday he'll smash the wrong windows and get his legs broke. He said it was okay because they only broke old people's windows. I hit him a clash in the face and told him that I'd a friend who was old that lived in Stranmillis and if he smashed her windows he'd get his legs broke by me.

"You see, I said to him, lesson number three: You can't judge people by who you think they are. E.g just because someone is old doesn't mean there isn't a hard bastard brimming with thug passion standing behind them with a baseball bat."

One of his spidey mates said: "Tuesday Kid's got knowledge."

I was so proud. I felt like Furious in Boyz in the Hood.

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.

Fabian Wildman has been having awful dreams. Sometimes I wake up in the night to hear him playing All I Have To Do Is Dream by The Everly Brothers which is what he plays when he can't sleep. I don't mind because Fabian's been really good about sharing his crack and walking/feeding/cleaning up after Battle Cat. Sometimes when he's eating a fry he'll throw Battle Cat a sausage and it was him that told me not to give Battle Cat chocolate because it can kill dogs.

I know it's The Death Owl that's scaring him, and now he knows The Death Owl visits next door he seems slightly panicked. He also knows tonight is the full moon.

"You know you don't have to be here tonight, if you're scared of anything happening with The Death Owl," I said to him at breakfast.

"What? And leave you and wee Battle Cat here on your own? No way," he says emphatically.

Then he shows me some weapons he's got. I hoped he'd have something cool like a morning star (a spikey ball on chains), which are cool as fuck and would destroy The Death Owl and Mr Ponti. But he brings out two baseball bats. I'm really grateful that he'd stick his neck out for us like this, so I don't tell him I've already got one in the cloakroom.

Some suggested getting a protection spell but I don't want to engage him on his own level. Neither of us know anything about magic. I just hope tonight passes off okay.

The Death Owl showed up at my door today with some wee guy in a bowler hat. They asked if they could come inside. I told them to stay where they were. The wee dude explained that he was from a local occult organisation and that it would be easier on everyone if I were to let them inside.

I invited them in and offered them a cup of tea. Both refused.

The wee guy explained that himself and other members of his order were unhappy with my "relations" (as he put it) with another member of the order's lady friend.

I told him that this was nothing to do with him or anyone in his order. He stood up and started acting all weird.

"Master! Master! Please let me reason with him master! MASTER!" he screamed.

The Death Owl looked all excited and kept giving me this wanky look like he was saying - "You're going to get it now."

I ran out into the hall and they followed me.

"Smite him!" the Death Owl kept shouting.

I went into my broom cupboard and came out with a baseball bat.

The wee guy dropped the act the minute he saw the baseball bat, but the bat dropped him a second later. The Death Owl started twatting about like he was doing an incantation but I dropped him too.

I battered them into a bloody mess and threw them out onto the street in a bloody heap. Then I had to go and pick up their teeth with my hands and scrub their blood off my walls and carpet.

A few hours later a big horned daemon showed up at my door. I instantly recognised him as Balkazaler. I invited him in for a cup of tea and he asked me nicely not to hit the Death Owl and Mister Ponti (the wee dude). I said okay but tell them not to be coming back round my house threatening me. Balkazaler said okay and left. It was nice to see him again. I haven't seen him since back when I started doing crack (which I'm back on by the way).