Threats from Occult Forces

Yesterday was when I had that conversation with Hot Baby Roy about us stopping crack. He was really disappointed and said that he'd been planning some good crack smoking times and he was gonna get me and him initialled pipes but I told him no way hose.

He brought out a few rocks of crack and said it'd be a shame to throw them away. I said okay then, for old times sake.

We sparked up the pipe and had a good old smoke of the crack. We were having a great time, and Hot Baby Roy said: "Wouldn't it be great if it was like this all the time?"

I thought so, but then I thought a bit harder and I saw us in about ten years time, still on the dole, wearing the clothes we were wearing then with not a tooth in our heads. I told him it would break my heart.

He said that I was killing his buzz so he was going to go and see if Hot Baby Roy on crack could have his way with The Raven Princess Spandex. I told him to remember that no-means-no because the last thing we wanted was the cops to show up when we were doing crack.

He rolled his eyes and fucked off.

Five minutes later the door went. I thought he'd forgotten his keys but when I answered it Balkazaler was standing there bearing his fangs.

"I wondered if I'd see you this week I said. You're not getting my fucking vote."

"Shut up you crackheaded fucker. What are you doing smoking that shit again?"

"I'm just having a bit for old times sake, anyway I'm bored, like it's any of your fucking business."

"Listen I'm a powerful daemon! I can see the future and you need a clear head."

"Why? Is this something to do with The Death Owl?"

"Never mind him, this is much bigger than him. You stop smoking that shit or I'll kick your balls up and out your mouth."

"I was quiting anyway after tonight. You're still not getting my vote you peeler tasched fucker."

"You're not registered to vote in East Antrim," he reminded me. Then he walked to the front door, unfurled his horned scaly wings and flew off into the night.

When faced with my demons I clothe them and feed them

Fabian Wildman took Battle Cat out for a walk earlier and I'd a good smoke of crack. That's when Balkazaler called round.

I made him a cup of tea and he told me that he knew I had poured milk through Fat Rab's letter box and that if I didn't want any trouble I was to turn "the dog and The Death Owl's old flatmate," who he knows I've been hiding, "over to him."

I told him that Battle Cat and Fabian Wildman were both out but that when they came back no scummy Sammy Wilson look-a-like was taking them with him.

He looked pissed off. He always looks pissed off though because he's a daemon.

"No offence like," I said, giving him a matey smile.

"None taken," he said huffily.

"Are you Sammy Wilson?" I asked.

"From the DUP?" he asked.

I nodded.

"If only you knew the half of it," he laughed to himself.

"Why don't you shave your peeler tash?" I asked him.

He told me to fuck off for this.

I asked him why he only called round when I was high on crack. He said I was boring when I wasn't high.

I told him he had better leave.

He did, but he warned me there'd be trouble.

I told him I didn't gives a fuck because I just wanted to smoke my crack pipe and play with my puppy dog.

He said he was doing me no more favours and gave me the fingers before waddling over to his motorbike and riding off up the street and disappearing in a puff of smoke.