Yesterday I went for a big long walk to clear my head and I think I stayed out too long because today I've been sneezing and coughing and bringing up nasty green spit.
I took the cough bottle and sat having a good old wheeze to myself. One of the sweaty metallers called round about something or other, I'm not sure what, but I made him kiss my hand, and he asked if he could lick my fingers.
I told him no.
He fucked off after that and Fabian Wildman told me he thinks there's trouble brewing.
I asked him to fetch me some scissors because I needed to defend myself in my weak state.
He reminded me that's why we have a big mean dog, and I reminded him that Battle Cat was a gentle soul and liked to play and not bite anyone.
He relented and brought me scissors, but he took hours to find them. In the end I refused them because I don't really trust myself with them.
I boked in a glass beside my bed and threw it out my window onto the street below. Nasty business being sick.
Showing posts with label sweaty Metaller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sweaty Metaller. Show all posts
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Monday, 6 April 2009
Fabian Seems Stranger
Today I came down to find Fabian Wildman sitting crying in the livingroom. He won't tell me what's up though to be honest it could be a whole range of things I already know about and a number of things I don't; maybe it's all getting to him.
He had run out of lighters and doesn't get any dole until next Thursday. He doesn't sleep much and takes Battle Cat off for long walks when the sun comes up and doesn't return until well after noon.
He's been listening to the Kate Bush album Hounds of Love non stop and while it's a pretty cool album it's a bit unnerving especially his obsession with one track Waking The Witch:
Anyways I went round the Sweaty Metaller's house to talk about band stuff. They've heard Kate Bush playing and thought it was me playing it. They say it's the coolest, so I just nodded and said it was me.
They told me that they had been speaking to Peace Man and Johnny Davro about me and it seems I out cooled them because they have been talking non-stop about how cool I am. I guess I am.
He had run out of lighters and doesn't get any dole until next Thursday. He doesn't sleep much and takes Battle Cat off for long walks when the sun comes up and doesn't return until well after noon.
He's been listening to the Kate Bush album Hounds of Love non stop and while it's a pretty cool album it's a bit unnerving especially his obsession with one track Waking The Witch:
Anyways I went round the Sweaty Metaller's house to talk about band stuff. They've heard Kate Bush playing and thought it was me playing it. They say it's the coolest, so I just nodded and said it was me.
They told me that they had been speaking to Peace Man and Johnny Davro about me and it seems I out cooled them because they have been talking non-stop about how cool I am. I guess I am.
Monday, 23 March 2009
I have cool things on my mind
Sorry I haven't posted much this week. I've been lying in bed wanking away about the yankie doodle dandy. It made me think I've got to go and get me a girlfriend, one who makes me feel cool all the time!
I asked Fabian Wildman if he wanted to go to a rock and roll vomit party where I could meet ladies of questionable age and gender.
He told me he wouldn't because you're no one at those parties if you can't play guitar or bongos and don't have a Prince Albert.
I screamed the house down. This just isn't fair. I've wasted all my time smoking crack and feeling lonely and cool while geeks have been up in their bedrooms learning cool tunes or out getting their willies pierced.
The Sweaty Metallers and Mr Spoon came round to ask me to keep it down but I just stood in the hall screaming and balling my eyes out.
One of the Sweaty Metallers gave me a big hug and said I must be a nice guy and that he liked my scream. He said he wants me to sing for his Sweaty Metal band and that we'd never stop having Rock and Roll Vomit Parties.
This is the beginning of cool times!
I asked Fabian Wildman if he wanted to go to a rock and roll vomit party where I could meet ladies of questionable age and gender.
He told me he wouldn't because you're no one at those parties if you can't play guitar or bongos and don't have a Prince Albert.
I screamed the house down. This just isn't fair. I've wasted all my time smoking crack and feeling lonely and cool while geeks have been up in their bedrooms learning cool tunes or out getting their willies pierced.
The Sweaty Metallers and Mr Spoon came round to ask me to keep it down but I just stood in the hall screaming and balling my eyes out.
One of the Sweaty Metallers gave me a big hug and said I must be a nice guy and that he liked my scream. He said he wants me to sing for his Sweaty Metal band and that we'd never stop having Rock and Roll Vomit Parties.
This is the beginning of cool times!
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Happy St. Patrick's day
Last night being St. Patricks there was a party on at the sweaty metallers' house and the whole street was invited except for me and Fabian Wildman. He doesn't really care though because he's fast turning into some low rent Ian Beale. It's bollocks.
I decided not to go round and trash the party so instead I got me a few cans and went down along the Lagan Meadows for a melancholy day. I hadn't gone far when I spotted a torn page lying on the ground.
Dear Diary
Today most totally rocked. I was at a party and all the gang were there. Julie, Peter, Chris, Cathy and Simon. That total bitch Cathy was there and she had been a total bitch about me pissing myself in her dad's taxi when I was drunk, everyone laughed at me and they weren't really talking much. I didn't like it. Chris threw himself down the stairs in an attempt to look cool (as if) and it almost worked until he broke his wrist (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) and he went to causalty in tears. What a wanker? Eh, Peter and Julie had a big fight and Simon started boking all over himself in the middle of it, we all have a good laugh. I called him a fat wanker but nobody laughed. I wanted to go out and make fun of him but Julie started to cry. Peter left the house in a bad mood and I got to give her a big hug.
I wish he was you, she kept saying. The back of my forearm rubbed against her breast.
there it all ended. I wondered who wrote it. Anyways I almost didn't notice a girl sitting beside me on the bench crying.
I asked her what was wrong and she spoke with an American accent. She said she had come here because she wanted to do St Patricks in Ireland, and when she found cheap deals for Belfast she just thought that was the Protestant name for Dublin. She was staying in the International Hostel on the Donegal Road and she thought it looked nice but that there was rioting outside and all these people spitting at her and saying mean stuff about the Pope. I took her in my arms and rocked her gently. Then I took her back to my house for a hot fuck. She left at 5am to get a plane back to the states. After the hot love I gave her I bet she could just fly there herself on the intensity of an orgasm.
I decided not to go round and trash the party so instead I got me a few cans and went down along the Lagan Meadows for a melancholy day. I hadn't gone far when I spotted a torn page lying on the ground.
Dear Diary
Today most totally rocked. I was at a party and all the gang were there. Julie, Peter, Chris, Cathy and Simon. That total bitch Cathy was there and she had been a total bitch about me pissing myself in her dad's taxi when I was drunk, everyone laughed at me and they weren't really talking much. I didn't like it. Chris threw himself down the stairs in an attempt to look cool (as if) and it almost worked until he broke his wrist (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) and he went to causalty in tears. What a wanker? Eh, Peter and Julie had a big fight and Simon started boking all over himself in the middle of it, we all have a good laugh. I called him a fat wanker but nobody laughed. I wanted to go out and make fun of him but Julie started to cry. Peter left the house in a bad mood and I got to give her a big hug.
I wish he was you, she kept saying. The back of my forearm rubbed against her breast.
there it all ended. I wondered who wrote it. Anyways I almost didn't notice a girl sitting beside me on the bench crying.
I asked her what was wrong and she spoke with an American accent. She said she had come here because she wanted to do St Patricks in Ireland, and when she found cheap deals for Belfast she just thought that was the Protestant name for Dublin. She was staying in the International Hostel on the Donegal Road and she thought it looked nice but that there was rioting outside and all these people spitting at her and saying mean stuff about the Pope. I took her in my arms and rocked her gently. Then I took her back to my house for a hot fuck. She left at 5am to get a plane back to the states. After the hot love I gave her I bet she could just fly there herself on the intensity of an orgasm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)