Never Trust Part 3

   “DCI Manning, sir. We've found out some information about the Marvin guy.” The officer was new, and it showed. He looked a lot younger than he was, though Manning thought he had been doing a good job so far. Eager, one might say.

   “Very good. What have you found?”
   “Well, his name is Marvin Tipping. He didn't seem to have many friends since he moved here because nobody knew him very well. But we found some of his records, apparently he has been divorced for some years to a woman named Eva” The young officer was flicking through a little notepad which didn't seem to have much written on it, though this was good enough news. Manning stared in thought for a few seconds.
   “See if we can find a Eva Tipping to identify the body, we need to be sure of this information.” They needed to find her before the media did. Nothing had happened this big for a while, and they had already linked the suicide to the murders as quick as the police could verify the evidence.

   Manning could already see the headlines being 'At the Tipping point' or 'Typical Tip Trip'. He really did hate the news papers. The officer interjected his thoughts.
   “That's kinda the worry, sir. We think we might already have found her.”

   * * *

   Marvin stretched, getting out of bed and stumbling down the stairs in the late afternoon. David was already sat in the living room and reading the news paper.

   “Hello, David. Let yourself in again?”
   “Well I do have keys, I mean I wouldn't manna wake you up at this early hour.” David looked at the clock, which read four twenty four PM. David smirked.
   “Shush, I have no responsibilities. So there are no worries. I'll get a job sometime, when I start running out of money. Besides, I had a late night.” Marvin yawned, and slumped down.
   “Ohh? Why's that?” David wasn't looking at him, rather staring at the paper. Something written about 'Warehouse Murders Suspect Found' " Marvin didn't pay much attention to the news.

   “Ahh, nothing special, stayed up watching some films”
   “Porn, then?” Marvin grinned, looking up from his paper.
   “...Shut up David. Nah, it was some horror film where these people were trapped with a shape shifting insect in the desert, somewhere. Pretty good.”

   Marvin got up and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing some cereal and a bowl. He shouted into the other room, so that David could hear him. “Where have you been the past couple of days then?”

   “Ohh, y'know me! Here, there and everywhere.” David was already in the kitchen right behind him, even though Marvin hadn't heard him follow in.

   “Fair enough, why'd you come round then? Wanna do something?” Marvin asked.
   “Nah, thought I might just come round, we can stay and watch one of your pornos if you like... oops, I mean 'scary films'.”

   “Ohh David, if only you knew how funny you aren't...”

   * * *

   London Police Department.                               Investigations Officer: DCI Manning                         Date: 01 / 10 / 10                   Offence: Mutilation                  Time: Between 1900 and 2200 hours

   The body found in the open warehouse was around two days old. The area was searched and found to be completely empty. After sectioning off the site, the forensics and photographers were brought in.

   The body was laid completely naked on the floor. Estimated at fourteen years of age, female, long blonde hair. Her clothes were on a raised plank nearby, she had a bag with a few books inside; all with a name written on the front, presumably hers: Charlotte Pascoe.

   There were names carved into various parts of her body. On her forehead was written the name 'EVA' and on the chest was written the name 'LUCY'. A large hold had been cut out of her stomach and her womb was removed. There were organs on the floor next to her, and her intestines extended to make a circle around them. Four of the officers had to leave the site from nausea.

   On the floor approximately five feet from the body, was a footprint of a size nine man's shoe. This was the only lead we found from this particular site.

   * * *

   “Hello again, Eva. How is your cell?” DCI Grover began.

   “Comfortable.” Eva lied. She didn't look at him.

   “Glad to hear it. Now, Eva, I'm hoping that you'll be more productive today, for your sake not mine. You know what I want from you. There is nothing you can do to get out of what you've done. All we want to know, is which of these murders are yours.” Grover placed murder scenes on the table in front of him. The other side of which Eva was sat, her glance darted through the pictures, given no emotion.

   While Eva was distracted by the pictures, Grover took out a recorder from his pocket, placed it on the table and pressed record.

   “Now Eva, do you notice anything interesting about this picture?” He picked one photo from under the scattered pile, and placed it on the top. It depicted a female teenager with her head turned to the side. Written on her cheek was a crude knife cut of the word 'EVA'. Eva stared at the picture as if shocked to see her own name. She frowned and looked up at Grover.

   “Not me.” She said, sternly. “Why the fuck would I write my own name?”

   “We don't know, Eva, that's what we're trying to find out.”

   The door was pursed open and an officer popped his head in. Beckoning Grover out of the room, he stopped the recording and asked Eva to remain where she was. He stepped out of the room and was told there was a message from DCI Manning.

   The stories seemed to fit up. He walked back in the room and apologised to Eva. He continued the recoding.

   “Now Eva, I've just been informed of an event that has happened near here at another station. There has been a death. I need to ask you. Are you aware of the name Tipping?” He asked as calmly as possible. Eva's glance shot directly into his eyes, it sent chills down his spine, she recognised the name.

   “It's your name, isn't it, Eva?” he pressed, but she remained silent. “Are you aware of someone named Marvin Tipping? We need to know this Eva.” Grover wasn't prepared for the sheer look of anger he received at the sound of the name.

   “Eva, I'm afraid he has died. He committed suicide last night” Grover tried to remain as neutral as possible.

   “Good” Eva simply grinned. “It's his fault.”

   * * *

   “That's all we need to ask, sir.” The officer still stood at the doorstep. Marvin hadn't let him in when he first asked. 'It's really messy, I wasn't expecting extra company' was his excuse.

   “Well sorry, I couldn't be of more help. If I hear anything about any girls, I will let you know” Marvin smiled. With believed truth behind every word.

   “Good day, sir.” The officer turned around.

   “Yeah, bye.” Marvin replied.

   “Thank fuck he's gone” David sighed.

   “Yeah, I mean how should I know anything about those missing girls?' Marvin walked away from the door, poured himself another whiskey and sunk it before slumping down in the comfiest chair.

Casual life update.

So, it's getting kind of difficult to write things twice a week on this blog because I seem to not be able to prepare them in advance. With yesterday being one of my last days of partay time before I start loads of assignment, today I thought I might just write some stuff on here that hardly anyone will find interesting :D

For a while now, I've been toying with the idea of buying a game or two to keep me occupied, such as Pokémon. I don't have the money to get a DS though, is the problem. But yesterday I played the Pokémon drinking game - and it's really fun. It does kinda screw you over though.

Recently I've been more laid back than normal, due to listening to excessive amounts of classical music. My favourite composer is Erik Satie. (youtube link.)

I've been working my way through lots of books. These books have both been thoroughly enjoyable and given me inspiration for my own writing. Patrick Rothfuss is one of my favourite fantasy writers after reading Name of the Wind, and he is on a par, in my books, with the God of character building - Ian Irvine.

But after reading Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island - I have been pushed forth to read more Penguin Classics. Which should be a lot of fun.

Most of my reading for the next two weeks, however, will be dull philosophy books, because I have 3 essays to get done. But... here comes the more exciting part for me...

After I've sorted out my real work - I'll be completely free for a good couple of months to start on my novel(la) which I've laid out the foundations for. I had my epiphany the other day, and my good friend is drawing up a map of my fantasy world as we speak. The story will be adapted from Of Deals and Undoings and it involves some character I'm really rather fond of.

It is a working title, but I have very high hopes that I might be able to get a significantly approvable version written up in a year. After that it'll be looking around for writing work to see if anyone might notice it.

I think this is one of the more boring blog posts you get. But there's not much I can do about that at the moment. More hilarity will ensue one day, I'm sure.

Thanks a plenty!

Never Trust Part 2

   Stillness. Legs spread wide apart. Arms tucked neatly by her side. Deathly pale fourteen year old girl. Marvin's cheeks ached, admiring the victim. He griped a fist of brunette strands and lifted her skull. Giving her hair an exaggerated sniff, her head hit the floor like a dead weight. A low hanging echo bellowed across the room. Marvin handed the knife to David.

   The Pascoe girl was one of the easiest victims. Marvin heard about her parents on holiday. Church goers love to gossip. She always walked to her friend's house. Every day. Same direction. Usually same time. Interception was simple. She liked to take the short-cut through a darkened street opening. All houses around a corner; 3 street lamps that had needed fixing. He waited against the wall. Palpitations kicking in. Adrenaline heightening reactions for the moment she entered his gaze. Less than a minute stopped her struggling for breath.

* * *

   “Good afternoon, madam. I’m DCI Manning of London Police department. May I come in?”
   “Of course, please, come this way.” Mrs Hadley was a widowed old woman with an arched back and a tea obsession. She led the detective into her front room, decorated with china and floral patterned furniture. Manning somehow questioned whether he’d walked into the 50s, judging by the lack of TV and a well-used radio. He guessed she had been a house wife for quite some time.

   “So, madam. We are here to investigate the phone call coming from your house, 4 days ago, on the afternoon of September 30^th. It concerned the first girl on our homicide case.”
   “Yes, that was me. What do you mean first? Are there more?” Mrs Hadley pried.
   “That is confidential information, I’m afraid, I am just interested to gather information from you concerning a ‘Pascoe family’.” Manning flicked through a scribbled notepad full of phone calls to investigate further. It had been a long day already. The teenage girl from the Pascoe family had been named 3 times, but they had not made themselves known, yet.

   “Yes. Well, as soon as I heard of the girl, I remembered the Pascoe family with a daughter that age. I’ve always thought they were a strange family. If you ask me, it was them who did it to their own daughter. I know it sound strange, but I always see that girl go by here and she’s never at home - surely signs of a terrible domestic life.”
   “This is all very well Mrs Hadley…” He was cut off.
   “Oh, call me Mary, please” She winced at the term Mrs Hadley, stung by the name of her deceased husband. Manning guessed she was a different person since his death.  It was a common thing for women to outlive their husbands, and few of them dealt with it very well. Though, he thought, at least it shows they probably were not victims of domestic abuse.

   “…Mary. What exactly is your reason for believing that Miss Pascoe is the missing girl?” Manning pressed, he had at least another 6 houses to visit before he could go on a break. Police in important homicide cases never got much sleep and were constantly over-worked. Something Manning could never get used to.
   “Well, like I said, I always see that girl going by here. But ever since I read about a girl of about 14 being found, I haven’t seen her at all! I’m really worried. Quite a pretty girl she is, I can’t imagine what would happen to her with the wrong person” Mrs Hadley, paused. DCI Manning didn’t want to know what she meant by that.

   “Is there any more information you could give us on this family? … Mary?” He prompted her out of her thought tracks.
   “Well, I heard from one of the girls at the church that they had gone on holiday recently. Perhaps to escape from whatever they did.” At this point, he could tell the woman was mad. The family being on holiday seemed a much more obvious explanation as to why the girl hadn’t been seen. Sadly, he had to check out all calls, and all leads. “I know that she lives down the road. Try asking at number 92, there’s a man that lives next door to them who might know more. He’s solitary by nature and lives alone. Erm… Marvin, I think”
   “I’ll send someone round this evening madam”

* * *

   Vertical cuts were always the first. Never too deep. First Marvin would write the name across her breasts, the one that he would have given her. Then came the slow process of removing the womb. The knife, gripped between whitened knuckles, raised high above the head. Always a hesitation before the plummet.

* * *

   London Police Department. Investigations Officer: DCI Grover Date: 04 / 10 / 10 Offence: Murder and Mutilation Time: Between 1900 and 2200 hours

   After a phone call claiming to have seen a person carrying a body into the warehouse, it was confirmed to be occupied. We sent a team of 4 armed officers and myself. It took a two man battering ram to break down the door in one hit and we rushed in.

   I shouted “Stay where you are!” when we had established the claim to be true. Inside the warehouse was a lone figure in the middle of the floor next to a corpse.
   “Put the knife on the floor and step away from the body” the command followed. The subject didn't seem phased by the commotion, instead, just did as told. The body on the floor was a young teenage boy.

   When we were close enough with no threat, the disturbed subject seemed to be grinning at us. When we took her back the the station and into the interview room, she refused to speak. The only thing she would tell us was her name...

* * *

   David laughed: “What would she do now, if she could see you?”
   “Who's that?” Marvin span quizzically toward David.
   “Your ex-wife? What was her name again?”
   “I carved it on my girl's face - here” Marvin grinned.

   'Eva'

 ----------------------------------------

Part 1
Part 3 next week.
All My Work

Sweet Nibblets

'Back to Normality' refers to something that only makes sense in the book.

I admit this is dark rather than funny.

I've never been able to draw faces.

Happy Obligated Love Taxing Day.

So, valentines day. I think it's safe that anyone with half a neuron can read the title and realise my line on this. A day where romantic gestures are taken advantage of by shops. And where those same romantic gestures become reversed into meaningless. This is because romance should be special, spontaneous and if anything on Valentine's day is seen as romantic, then the lack of romance for the rest of the year really suggests that your relationship sucks.

I'll spare you all the love philosophies I hold that most would incorrectly reject, such as deceptive frame of mind and active seeking causing a 'settle for 40^th best' relationship. No...

...I would, though, like to point all towards some ridicules things about the entire subject. It is insane. It'd be my pleasure to suggest that you are your own most important person from some evidence from love it's self.

My first piece of evidence demonstrates the blinding to all badness caused by love. The song 'Close to you' by Carpenters clearly states the question: 'Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?'

Now... Not only is she not freaking out because birds are 'suddenly appearing' about of nowhere right in front of her eyes. She is actually making it sound like a good thing. Like she wants to be with someone who is permanently surrounded by birds. What? Is this some sort of crazy fetish? Living your entire life like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's horror film 'The Birds'?

Show me on the doll where they touched you...

What she also fails to specify is what the species of bird is... What if they were surrounded by vultures? Or the person you've fallen in love with happens to be 'The Crow'? That seems a little less romantic, doesn't it? Your eyes drift across the room and everything goes in slow motion as you stare at this wonderful person, then through the corner of your rose tinted eyes swoops and albatross to decapitate you.

Materialising birds is not romantic.

Next, my issue with the notion of 'giving someone your heart'. I bet that's why evolution gave us a rib cage? To stop us plunging into our own chest in pursuit of giving another person some blood drenched human offal as your last ever gesture. Though some Goths would probably see that as romantic nobody, who isn't so screwed as to believe the only way they can be liked is by a group of their own sick kind, would find this a horrifying concept.

I'm veering from the point of Valentine's day though – the day where shy kids are allowed to muster up the courage to send a stalky letter to someone they have a crush on. A day where romanticism attempts societal objectification (ooo, big words). What I mean here is that everyone is different. Why has it got to be all the random cheesy crap. 'You are the light in my sky'...yeah? Well then what do you call night? Technically, through most of the winter you dislike this crush of yours. Bad times.

I say we could stick to the Greek Goddess Aphrodite, and have the day also representing free-for-all sex. Where you can approach people with cards saying: 'Would you like to see how stretchy my foreskin is?'.

It's a subjective romance! He thinks that's cool, who's to judge him.. If she rejects, it'd still be a more honest rejection than: 'I'll eat your chocolates, but we're still not dating.'

I think honesty cards would be much more entertaining for almost any holiday. You could have cards such as: 'As long as the person I really like is taken, I'm happy to be with you', Or even 'Y'know, you're not that attractive, but I'd imagine you have a quick refractory period' (correct term for cool-down time).

I for one would be flattered by such a card, and while not much match-making would be going on, at least we could all have a laugh without 50% of the population forcing you to be either romantic or depressively single.

Anyway, love should be all encompassing, rather than repeated:

'I really rather love you, and will decidedly go out of my way to show you the truth of this on occasion. In future, please assume that this has not changed until further notice. Thank you for your time.'

Never Trust Part 1

The next 3 weeks' creative writing posts will be a three part short story called Never Trust. It was previously marked as 'Mature' on WritersCafe, meaning than non-members couldn't read it. So - this is almost an exclusive place to read it :) This is part one, and the next two parts will be on the following Sundays. Thanks.

    His soft hand caressed her hip; wandering upwards. Pressing his lips upon her smooth forehead, he held there for a second. Stepping back, he gazed into her eyes. The moment was captured in this pause. Soft slow steps in a small circle around her chair, with his fingertip making contact, stroking, the whole way from shoulder to shoulder and back. The room was empty. Him and her. One chair and one spotlight. The naked feet of his, softly pattering upon the stone floor creating an echo in the vast room. Step. Step. Step. He moved in. Closer. Closer. Closer; to slap his victim on the face with bludgeoning precision, from hair to chin. Giggling furiously, he backed off out of the light with nothing in his hands; returning with a simple flick-knife. Sharp and shining, reflecting the circular beam cast around the girl. Her head rested on her own shoulder. Lifeless. There was no need to rush, she wouldn't start to decay for another few hours. The artwork begins...

*    *    *

    'Thank fuck he's gone' David sighed. Mid thirties, scruffy brown hair with careless eyes to match. Marvin was a similar height, though older. Had same coloured eyes and hair except greying. Apart from the slightly larger belly, he was a much tidier looking, clean shaven man. Marvin closed the door as the policeman was at the end of the drive.
    'Yeah, I mean how should I know anything about those missing girls?' Marvin walked away from the door, poured himself another whiskey and sunk it before slumping down in the comfiest chair. David remained standing, and silent. Marvin gave a nod. 'And why did it not concern you? I mean he just stands there talking and talking to me about this upsetting stuff. But he just ignored you!'
    'Quite' David smirked. 'Who do you reckon it was? That's four, very pretty, teenage girls now'.
    'Probably some sick fuck on a spree. It's such a shame really, what a waste of a life'. There was a long, contemplating pause.

    'We're out of milk. Bugger, I really wanted a tea' Marvin shouted from the kitchen, breaking the silence.
    'There's more in the upper cupboard, in the carton!' David shouted.
    'Cool!' Marvin said before a longer pause and coming back in with a cup of tea.
    'I bet you're glad you don't have a daughter around now. You nearly did. You'd be in a similar situation.' David returned to the horrid matter.
    'Yeah, I still kinda like the idea of a daughter. If I did have one, I'd probably just go on holiday 'til this is all over... We both wanted kids y'know?' Marvin swirled his cup in his usual repetitive actions. David was sat down on a wooden chair facing the other.
    'What happened, Marvin?'

    'Have I not told you all this before?'
    'Well if you have, I've forgotten. You do bore me after all.' David gave a toothy smile, cheeky as always.

    'Well, we always planned on having them. Me 'n the missus. But when we got round to trying. She couldn't have them. That was the tipping point. All sorts happened, and everything reminds me of it.' Marvin slowed as he spoke, clearly an emotionally problematic subject. 'Not a God forsaken day goes by where I don't think something different could have happened.' His repetitive actions became more prominent.
David started. 'I bet that's what you were thinking about when...'
Marvin interrupt, staring into nothingness. 'It's what I think about all the time! Arguments about adoption. It broke our love. I left her in the end. I resented her.' Marvin had one hand tightly gripping onto the arm of the chair as his nails dug deeper indents.
    'If only other families didn't have their pretty daughters?' David stared at Marvin, who gave a hasty reply.
    'No! Of course not!' Martin raised his voice. Tension was released. There was another, awkward, contemplating pause. 'What did you bring this up for anyway?! Shut up! Just shut up!' Marvin looked as if there would be tears in his eyes if he knew how.
    'Sorry, that's why I'm here Marvin, so you can get your head straight. Or is it not? Why am I here?'
    'No! Just shut up! I was fine. I just wanted some company.' Marvin couldn't look David in those accusing eyes.
    'I think you are a bad man, Marvin.' David kept staring, and staring, and staring until Marvin broke.
    'What are you talking about?! I broke up with her, nothing more! Just fuck off! You were saying earlier how a good innocent person I was. I believe in God, isn't that enough? I repented! I'm not a sinner.'
    'Woah, touchy!' David mused, then turn abruptly serious 'Think. Confessing for your past thoughts isn't enough. Your actions is what you need to repent for' David mimed zipping his mouth shut and started to walk out the room. Marvin closed his eyes tight as if everything was going to go away. He couldn't hear David after he walked off, but as he opened his eyes, there he was, right infront of him, slightly bent to his level.

    'Are you okay?' David mused again.
    'You're such a bastard. What are you trying to prove? You're confusing me!'
    'Nothing, Marvin, and everything. That's what I'm here for. To give you some clarity. Think carefully.'
    'What are you talking about? David!'

Sighing, David rolled his eyes. 'Need some help? What were you doing Friday at around 2am, Marvin?'
    'I can't remember! What was I doing?'
    'You can't remember what you were doing in the morning, 2 nights ago? Of course you can. If I can remember, then you can.'
    'I literally have no idea, sleeping probably...' Marvin paused. 'Wait, no. I was awake then? I never go to sleep before 3. Ohh.' After ten seconds of silence, Marvin's face dropped. Totally blank as if he had just seen the most disturbing, shocking scene. Like he had just seen a ghost. Like he had just watched a family member commit suicide. Like he had just remembered himself drenched in blood, in a room at 2am, with a knife deep in the stomach of a dead teenage girl. So it was him? He was a murderer? But How? The cup dropped on the floor spilling still hot tea on the thin carpet. Marvin slowly brought his hands up to look at them. How had he been the kidnapper? He didn't remember... four of them? How?
    'David... How?'
    'How what Marvin?' David said in his calmest voice. Eerie.
    'How did I not know? How did you know? Was it you who did it, am I remembering this correctly?' Marvin didn't know where to look. He was distraught, shocked, appauled. His mind brust into a rubbish tip of thoughts with only a hand brush to tidy it. 'What do I do David, are you going to tell anyone?!'
    'I couldn't tell anyone if I tried. I did it, you did it... same thing. I think you've already decided what to do, Marvin. It's for the best I think. I'll go with you.' David had no emotion at this point, he was almost speaking as if he were a robot.

    David held up some car keys and a small lock box out in front of him. Marvin got up slowly from his chair; bowed his head in silence. His feet slid towards the kitchen door. David just followed.

    Marvin hesitated every few steps as if considering an alternative. He knew, however, that this was the right thing to do. God would save them both. They would repent. Everything would be fine. Through the kitchen; they made their way to the garage, where the car was. Only a small car, 2 doors, red.

    Pulling the garage to kitchen door behind him shut, David gestured to Marvin, who then locked it. He also made his way to the opening hatch of the increasingly enclosed garage and locked it, four times. Picking up a length of plastic pipe, and knocking things over in the process. He did not bother to pick anything up, that wasn't important now. He rolled down the front driver's seat window. Sliding one end of the pipe over the car's exhaust pipe; then the other end feeding through the window of the car. All other windows were firmly closed tight.

    They simultaneously sat into the car. Marvin on the driver's side and David in the passenger's. They locked the car doors. The keys moved slowly towards the ignition before a final hesitation. Marvin looked at David. David looked back and gave a nod, and a slight smirk. The keys went in, they turned. It took 3 times before the car started and the smoke began to pour into the car; filling it up.

    Marvin took the keys to exit the garage and placed them into the lock box. He also put his spare car keys in. He locked the box. With the final key for the box, he swallowed it. It hurt as it rolled down his gullet, and he relished the pain - he was suddenly aware of life. There was no going back.

    Every second seemed to last a very long time, but every chronic second also became easier and easier as Marvin slowly slipped away into the deepest sleep he could ever imagine. Forever. Just like those girls. Only without the pain. And nobody in his life to care. In his final moment, he felt peace and he knew he was alone in the car.

*    *    *

    'London Police Department.      Investigations Officer: DCI Manning

Date: 04 / 10 / 10        Offence: Alleged Suicide        Time: Between 1900 and 2200 hours

     After responding to the call of gas leaking from a neighbour's garage, a team was sent out. Upon knocking the garage door down, there was no sign of any struggle to get out. Nobody had entered or exited since the incident. The ignition was turned off after the smoke cleared. A deceased body was found inside the car.

     Inside the car was a lock box. The key was not found, so forced entry was needed. The box contained the keys to both and only entrances of the garage. It was confirmed that the keys in the box were the only of their type in existence to our knowledge, as found from locksmith's records. There is little doubt that this was a voluntary suicide.

    After further tests, the DNA on the John Doe in the car matches the DNA left in the warehouse where the four recent missing girls were mutilated found eight, six, five and one night previous. It seems this man committed suicide for what we assume to be a linked reason.

    The man was later identified as a Caucasian British male called Marvin; around fourty-five years of age. He mostly kept himself to himself. According to neighbours, he was 'solitary mainly, nature and lived alone.' However, he was sometimes heard talking to himself. This is all the information we found from the neighbours. An autopsy will be carried out in the next twelve hours.

    There was no sign of struggle and 'Marvin' was alone in the car. With no way of anyone leaving before we broke the door down. We must assume there was nobody else involved and suicide is the only option. End report.'

All Of My Writing

More Sweet Nibblets

And some more clippings from the insanity mind of myself.

Zombie Power

Angry Lion - Why the long face?

Humpty Dumpty fell up the wall, Humpty Dumpty felt 100ft tall, all the kings horses and all the king's men, were busy 'cause they had a war to attend.

(appauling spelling) Tentacle Fetish doesn't work, surely. I mean penises go hard for a reason.

I Hate Snow

So, it's been snowing lately. You may have heard the special needs kids who have been allowed facebook posting something like 'SNOWWW! I R SO EXCITE!'. You also may have heard it on the news when everyone goes crazy about the fluffy white stuff falling from the sky. Everyone starts wading to the shops to buy all of the food that is currently in existence (most of which will go off before they can use it) as if we're going into hibernation. You'd think we were all going to die or something.

Or perhaps we are. I mean snow is both pathetic and shit. No mincing words. It simply is. It is absolutely pointless as a weather type. Sun is fundamental to life, it makes things grow, gives photosynthesis and all that stuff - it's why we were able to exist in the first place. Rain is water, it is also important because everything that is living is made of water, to it keeps things thriving. Snow... If snow didn't exist, everything that struggles to survive in it would be a much bigger and better creature. it stops things. Most animals burrow away from it - not even things that need it like it.

But still, away from these sciency-weiency reasons, people like to play in it. Why the fuck you would you play with weather? It's cold, makes it difficult to move because if your feet aren't restricted by the wading, your arms have to lug around a thousand layers of clothes.

Further still, people like the first day because they can make stuff with it. Making stuff? You're gonna go outside and suffer so that you can throw it around and build stuff? Can I just point you to an invention named Lego? The only dangerous thing about Lego is if you step on it with bare feet. Why would you wait for one month of the year to slip on a horizontal surface and break your spine into five pieces, when you can stay inside and build a colourful dinosaur?!

Awesome Lego Dinosaurs!

And the colour. Oh my God, how dull. The only other time I see such a pointless piece of white is a piece of paper that hasn't yet been used for awesomeness. It's not even a crap colour, it's a shade for fuck sake. Maybe I'd accept snow if it was colourful, if each snow-flake was a different colour, making the ground look like 'hundreds and thousands'.

So what's the point in it? The only use it seems to bring is killing things. If animals don't hibernate, they perish, the trees even have to shed their pretty. It kills things - It is death from above. It's falling annihilation! What the fuck? Why would this be an exciting concept?! Would you go outside and play with death? Every time I look out the window I expect to see some creepy Jack Frost designed by Tim Burton with scythe pointing at me.

No. Just no. Snow is shit people, and if you can't see that, then I don't like you. I hope the snow gets you.

Also, I don't want to be put in line with these mundane morons who look out the window and go 'This will be a nightmare for traffic' - You're as bad as everyone else. Just walk you lazy prick, perhaps the extra effort will make you lose some weight. Alternatively there's the morons who try to use it as an excuse to stay in and not go to work or school or whatever. Really? Of course you can go in, you might just be late... Sort your life out.

No, I hate snow for what it is, it's a weather incarnation of the grim reaper. Perhaps I should characterise the major weather types to 'The Four Horsemen' and justify that the Biblical Apocalypse has already happened.

 ...It would make sense. I mean look at the state of the world! Death falls from the sky! How screwed up is that?

Need I remind you of the Judder Man Horrors? It's Snow's fault!

So just for people who need clarification. If you like snow. I hate you. If you really want snow... you can fuck off to Narnia.

Ciao!

The Obligatory Sex Poem

Today's writing is a poem that I wrote because of all the writers and wannabe poets who all write so seriosuly using the same sensual lusting tone about sex. Which is too much of a universally fundamental concept for my liking. Also, I figure if you write something using the word 'sex' more people will look at it. Sex sells. So here is my version of the obliatory sex poem.

'The Obligatory Sex Poem' 

Dependant on your age, it seems

That sex is all the rage, it seems. So,

Show me those desires that kindle

Your fires and then I'll fall into line. If you

Show me yours, then I will show you mine.

Tell me your fetish, I'll indulge you

And tease.

Red wine and dine with chocolate?

A bowl full of keys?

Do you like lettuce with cauliflower cheese?

Perhaps music, incense, handcuffs and role play.

I'll be the land lord and you can refuse to pay.

Why not try fantasy, just for a laugh?

I will play Gandalf and “You Shall Not Pass!”

You don't like orders when I'm lying on my back,

Things like: 'Take it all in, and don't neglect the Sa...'

Refusing to carry out menial tasks,

Refusing to wear nipple clamps,

Or zipped-up gimp masks.

My favourite position is the Lotus flower,

We can start off with candles and finish in a shower.

Yes, yes, I know it sounds tame, but it's much more

appealing than safe-words and pain.

Mutual orgasms - now that sounds like fun.

But let's get one thing straight; then I'll be done,

Toys are fine to use, but

Nothing. Goes. Up. My. Bum.

View All My Writing Here

Sweet Nibblets Extract.

Sweet Nibblets is a little book I started to draw with silly doodles and captions to go with them. There are a lot. But I'll be posting a few on here. I might have to explain some of them, and most of them are a little weird. So expect the unexpected.

My ticket to a padded cell :)

 

I've literally forgotten the point behind this. Guy has mouths for eyes and an eye where his mouth should be.

It's a play with words.

More will arrive at later date.