Yusef, You Bastard IX

Yusef, you bastard! How is it that my living room is the setting for the winning entry in the “Best Group-Sex Scene – Video” category in the recent Adult Film Awards?

Published in: on June 28, 2008 at 11:16 am  Leave a Comment  
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The Egg And I

I sat up in bed and rubbed my face, unable to sleep in the heat. The same dry, electric heat. It seemed so otherworldly, an unnatural atmosphere. It brought back memories of the accident.

It was three years ago. I had been meeting my friend for lunch at a café down the street from the station, a narrow and quite busy commercial hub. I liked that particular section of street. A pleasantly complicated bubble surrounded by silent industrial backlots just a dozen metres away in each direction. She was a musician, and had just locked in her first headline gig. I treated her to lunch as a celebration. And, as our celebrations always did, a couple of brews had been involved. After parting company, I started walking down the side street into the concrete maze away from the throngs and traffic. They had been starting to give me a headache, and I only had two or so kilometres to walk back to my apartment.

The graffiti on the brick walls and rollerdoors I passed was for the most part unintelligible. The artistic talent didn’t venture this far out of the city. For all the blank canvas they had to work with, there just wasn’t an audience, and in any case the taggers had no respect for works around here. As I was ruminating on this deep theory of social injustice, and trying not to stumble in my slightly inebriated state, the usual precautions one takes when crossing streets and loading zones slipped further and further from my mind. And then, inevitably, my downfall came. I’m sure I had heard the light truck’s engine, it was moving at a fair clip after all. But the driveway was narrow and blind, and I just stepped out without consideration. Swept me fair away.

As I lay on the hot bitumen, I was amazed at how little pain I was in. Mind you, I couldn’t much feel anything, and neither could I move. The light seemed unnaturally bright and flared out, as though the white balance had been set too high. But I could feel the heat. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like the usual caress of solar radiation on my bare skin. It was a penetrative heat that I felt all over and all around, so dry and charged with potential. As I was gazing upwards in my paralysed state, a figure swam into view like a water reflection on a disturbed pond. I thought it was the truck driver. But as the details became clearer, it started to look less and less like a human figure at all. Too slender, too narrow. Before I could draw a conclusive impression, my vision flared entirely, painfully, divinely bright and my conscious thoughts seared away.

And then, with a startling suddenness, I could see again. And I was standing. I gazed down at my legs, standing upright, and couldn’t think in my state of surprise. As my brain started moving again, I became aware of other details. The ground beneath my feet was no longer bitumen. It had become a high grade marble. I looked up, and found myself in a marbled courtyard, open to the sky. The sky was a dull, nocturnal red, lit from no discernable source but as bright as daylight nonetheless. The lack of originating lightsource gave the whole scene an odd lack of contrast, as there were no shadows. All around this courtyard, maybe seventy metres in diameter, were coliseum-style stone seats. And every seat was occupied.

My audience were slim of build, and unnaturally tall of stature. Slender and elegant, their forms were flowing and regal. Their faces, however, were utterly devoid of feature. I stood there and regarded this silent ocean of witnesses. And without receiving any indication from any of them, I knew exactly what was expected of me.

I walked to the centre of the courtyard, and beheld my dance partner. It was an egg. A single fowl’s egg. And yet at the same time it wasn’t. It had no fixed features or proportions, its shape and size were completely indeterminate, but I never perceived it as anything but an egg. I took its outstretched hand, bowed, and smiled as the music began. And off we went, striding and twirling with the beat. I had never danced a step in my life, and yet here I moved with the grace and precision of a world champion. My movements were fluid and perfectly in time, my feet placed with a confidence and control that I had never before experienced. My spirit soared.

One by one, the spectral figures surrounding me lit up, shining like supernovas, martyrs of brilliance, glowing their approval. Brighter and brighter, till I was surrounded with a eucharistic brilliance that drowned all else out and burned away my surroundings until I was freefloating in a featureless void. The joy drained from me, the exuberance flowing out as quickly as it had filled me. And then my vision vignetted back in, and I found myself standing once again outside the café I had left not long before, my friend’s back disappearing off into the crowd as she had already done once that day. I sat down again, unable to comprehend this twisted timeline. I was completely sobered, but the headache was still there and threatening to become unbearable at any minute.

I decided not to dwell too deeply on what had just occurred, and to just make my way home as quickly as possible. I went immediately to the train station, and spoke to no-one.

I’d been granted another chance. I had pleased my audience of magnificent shining deities, and as a performance fee they had brought me back.

That was three years ago.

Tonight had the same actinic feel in the atmosphere. My head started to pound. As my vision started to flare, I idly wondered what the consequences would be if I did not meet their approval again?

Published in: on June 23, 2008 at 1:12 pm  Comments (2)  
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Cook Hates Sea Life I

Published in: on June 23, 2008 at 10:56 am  Comments (1)  
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Cook Hates Sea Life – Preface

This series shall be a group of single-panel comics of a satirical historical nature, similar in style to the Edison Hate Future and Watson Hates Holmes series created by Warren Ellis. Full credits to the concept creation goes to him, it was his idea first. This is merely my own humble creation along similar, though legally distinct, lines.

Enjoy.

Published in: on June 23, 2008 at 10:52 am  Leave a Comment  
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Odin and the World Tree

Yggdrasil, the World Tree, forms the vertical axial centre of the universe, with the Nine Worlds of existence situated around its trunk.  Asgard, realm of the gods, at the top.  Niflheim, realm of the underworld Hel, under its roots.  And of course Midgard, land of Man, in the middle, separated from the Jotunheim by a great ocean.

Yggdrasil translates as “terrible steed” or “steed of the terrible one”.  This refers to the god Odin, and the nine nights he spent sacrificed upon the tree, hung from its branches – said to be “riding the gallows”.  Now, the thing is… he’s a god.  He sacrificed himself to himself, from physical being to divine deity, wounded by spear and hanging for nine nights.  All so that he could gain understanding of the ancient Runes.

Meanwhile, I’m out of milk.  And the corner store is like seven hundred metres away.  I mean, really.

Published in: on June 21, 2008 at 12:45 am  Leave a Comment  
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Winter Hates Me With Vicious Stair-Bludgeoning

Brief reprieve from my twisted word-wrangling while I recover from falling down a flight of stairs. At first it was all like “WHEEEEEEEEE!” but then came concrete. I’m sure you can imagine the rest.

<end transmission>

Published in: on June 19, 2008 at 12:22 pm  Comments (1)  

Yusef, You Bastard VIII

Yusef, if that was your semen I tasted in my coffee, I’m going to beat you to death with a small puppy very very soon.

Published in: on June 18, 2008 at 9:57 am  Leave a Comment  
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Yusef, You Bastard VII

Yusef, you bastard, get away from me with that thing. I don’t need a pap-smear! No, I KNOW you’ve only got my interests at heart. Now fuck off!

Published in: on June 18, 2008 at 9:56 am  Leave a Comment  
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Yusef, You Bastard VI

Yusef, that Cabbage Patch Dolls/My Little Pony bestiality diorama you left on my lawn this morning was frankly disturbing. I worry about you, Yusef, I really do.

Published in: on June 18, 2008 at 9:55 am  Leave a Comment  
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Yusef, You Bastard V

Yusef, put that tube back in. No, I don’t care what you need it for, Father O’Leary’s dialysis machine needs it more!

Published in: on June 18, 2008 at 9:54 am  Leave a Comment  
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