Old Enemies Really Do Run Belfast

Yesterday I went for a job interview. It was a shitty call centre one. I was sitting in the reception all prepared to lie about my experience and intentions when I was called into a room with non other than The Death Owl and Mr Ponti. Except Mr Ponti wasn't really called Mr. Ponti, he was called Boris something or other.

They had big smug bastard grins written all over their faces when I sat down in front of them.

"So, if it isn't crack headed Tuesday Kid?" The Death Owl smirked. "Want a job do you?"
"That's right," I said trying to brush off the fact that I was sitting in front of two complete wankers that I'd hoped I'd never see again.
"We don't employ crack heads. Our business is serious. However..." the Death Owl said.
I sat waiting for him to finish.
"How is your dog?" said Mr Ponti.
"That's none of your busines," I replied.
"That's not very friendly," said the Death Owl. "Especially since you're wanting us to give you a job."
"Are you going to give me one?" I asked.
"I'll give you something else," said the Death Owl bringing out his majik wand.
He was about to zap me before I took off my shoe and threw it at him, snapping the wand into shite.

Mr. Ponti dived over the desk at me but I uppercutted him, knocking him clean out cold.

The Death Owl started dancing around the room.

"You're so dead," he said, "I'm a yellow belt in Karate now."

He pulled off some fancy Chuck Norris roundhouse but it missed me by miles. I pinned him up against the wall.

"I'll scream for help," he said.

"Do it," I shrugged. "They won't get here before I twist your balls."

He fainted right away. I spat a big drooly spittle all over his face.

Then I stole money from both their wallets. A result of sorts. Though not the one I was hoping for.

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.

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.

I woke up today to hear Fabian Wildman banging on my front door. He was in a wile state when I let him in, in his dressing gown and slippers. I looked at the clock, it was only half eight. I gave him a good smoke of my crack pipe and that calmed him down enough so he could tell me what was wrong.

He says he woke up in the middle of the night to see The Death Owl pacing at the foot of his bed with a sacrificial dagger in his hand talking to someone who wasn't there, not just muttering, he was having a full blown conversation and my name came up as well as Fabian's. Poor Fabian waited until The Death Owl went to the bog, then he legged it out of the house.

I asked him who The Death Owl was talking to, if he mentioned Mr. Ponti or Balkazaler. Fabian said he hadn't heard of them. I told him about the wee guy in the bowler hat. Fabian said The Death Owl always called him Boris but he was a weird wee fucker who smelt of candle wax.

Fabian asks if he can stay at mine, and much as I like him I really don't want him here. He starts crying when I say no, so I tell him he can stay here until he finds somewhere new, but I know already I'm going to have to kick him out the first time he takes my stuff to cash converters.

We go round his in the middle of the day to get his stuff. I was hoping The Death Owl would be there just so I could give him a kicking but the place was empty. There was an awful reek of sage about the place.

We got all Fabian's stuff back to mine and by the time we got it sorted and him settled in the living room (his new bedroom) we settled down for the night with a good smoke of crack.

Fabian has a vinyl record player and lots of old records. He wanted to let me hear some french guy called Jaques Brel. He said I'd like him but I think his real reason for playing him was just to help him feel a bit more at home. I said okay, then Fabian told me he wrote that Westlife song Seasons in the Sun. I really wasn't looking forward to this. But once he stuck him on it was pretty good. Some french guy who sounded really emotional about everything. He had one called Amsterdam which was all in French so I don't know what it was about exactly but by the sounds of him he'd been busted trying to smuggle some dope back with him. Living with Fabian might be okay after all. I might leave it a bit before I tell him The Death Owl sometimes visits next door.

I was in a petshop the other day. I wanted to buy a dog because I'm getting a bit weirded out by all the daemons I keep seeing on the television. Balkazaler visited me the other day and told me to watch out for the Death Owl and Mr Ponti because they were planning something nasty for me. I made him some chicken sandwiches but he only ate half of one, something about how he doesn't like cajun mustard with his meats. It's sitting blue moulding on the kitchen table.

I've decided to get a big violent dog. The pet shop didn't have any but told me there were some Kennels out the Lisnabreeny Road. I was just about to leave when The Death Owl wandered into the shop. He said to the owner that he was there to buy all their rats. I told the owner that he gases rats in his oven. He started yelling at me in tongues. The owner told him to leave, when The Death Owl wouldn't, the owner beat him into a bloody mess. I helped.

The owner told me he was a white wizard and hated The Death Owl and his lot. I told him that The Death Owl and that were planning some nasty spells for me. The owner cast a protection spell for me and I went on my way.

The Kennels out the Lisnabreeny Road didn't have what I was looking for, but I think I managed to buy myself some time.

I went home and lit up the crack pipe. I felt like watching some TV but I don't want to see any more daemons; I know what's coming.