I have decided to recruit Rastus, thats the gerbils name.... well Rastusafian Gnarf Googlewhisker the 3rd actually. Calls himself Lord too... Lord of the Gerbils. Despite his obvious pompusness (I mean... who'd go around proclaiming themself a lord and huffing and puffing and stuff if they weren't an over stuffed fop) I've decided that a talking rodent might make a usefull ally. He's combing his hair now, admiring himslef in the grimy reflection of the precious as we hid in the cupboard.
Reminds me of something but I can't think what. I use the sliver of light that creeps through the cupboard door to check my refection in my mirror as the boat in which we hide wiggles about while I ponder.
I wish that hemlet headed buffoon would hurry up and steal this boat and get us anywhere but this god forsaken island. I'm sure I can still feel that bass thrumming rumble too.
It's getting stuffy in here... Rastus is puffing on his pipe and i'm sipping yummy precious drink. Glad I'm safe in here with my friend the talking Lord of the Gerbils and not out there with the crazy people.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Last call, boarding now
As I head back down the mountain I notice a slight trembling in the ground... a rumble so low that I'm not even sure if I can really hear it or not. One might even use the word 'ominous'. I notice in the shiney (and slightly blood spattered) reflective Precious a reflection on the mountain behind me.. it seems there is more smoke.
I'm probably imagining it. It's bound to be the smouldering carcasses of the accursed hairy monkey men that were slain by my righteous hand. A hear a hollowish clonk sound behind me... right behind me. I dive into the bushes yelling "SNIPER!" again... only to see a hairy ball roll across the trail. It must have fallen from a tree. Could have brained me. I wonder what a Sniper is?
My head hurts. My body feels.... embalmed... and kinda sticky. My eyes feel like there's sand mixed with ants in them. My tongue feels like its one that someone else has sold at a second hand store and I bought it thinking i was getting a bargain. ripped off. It feels like someones used it to sweep up glass on a sandpaper floor... whatever sandpaper is. The precious tells me that its good. All good.
Up ahead I can see that dodgy Conning fellow trying to shake the boat out of the tree. Using my stunning intellect I deduce that he is stealing it. Lucky for him whoever owns it has similarly rancid taste in headgear. When he's not looking I climb aboard all stealthy like and hide in the cupboard below deck.
As I crouch there amongst the smell of leather gimp suits a gerbil lurking in the corner of the cupboard says to me "Pssst... wanna help me dig a tunnel outta here!?".
He takes a puff on a tiny pipe, smoke lazily oozes from his whiskery nostrils as he hands me a teaspoon.
I'm probably imagining it. It's bound to be the smouldering carcasses of the accursed hairy monkey men that were slain by my righteous hand. A hear a hollowish clonk sound behind me... right behind me. I dive into the bushes yelling "SNIPER!" again... only to see a hairy ball roll across the trail. It must have fallen from a tree. Could have brained me. I wonder what a Sniper is?
My head hurts. My body feels.... embalmed... and kinda sticky. My eyes feel like there's sand mixed with ants in them. My tongue feels like its one that someone else has sold at a second hand store and I bought it thinking i was getting a bargain. ripped off. It feels like someones used it to sweep up glass on a sandpaper floor... whatever sandpaper is. The precious tells me that its good. All good.
Up ahead I can see that dodgy Conning fellow trying to shake the boat out of the tree. Using my stunning intellect I deduce that he is stealing it. Lucky for him whoever owns it has similarly rancid taste in headgear. When he's not looking I climb aboard all stealthy like and hide in the cupboard below deck.
As I crouch there amongst the smell of leather gimp suits a gerbil lurking in the corner of the cupboard says to me "Pssst... wanna help me dig a tunnel outta here!?".
He takes a puff on a tiny pipe, smoke lazily oozes from his whiskery nostrils as he hands me a teaspoon.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Bloody Monkeys
What is going on... here I am waking up again...
Last thing I remember is that fool with he horny helmet rocketing past me screaming like a little girl. Now I find myself leaning against the Very Bad Thing at the edge of the village. The same Very Bad Thing that cored Skook like an apple before hurling the hollow remains off the edge of the cliff.
And whats this... The Precious is red... no wait... it's red a dripping... the red is blood. Oh... I see I'm covered in blood. All around me are the bloodied remains of there are giblets swinging from trees like wind chimes. Well... bloody... wet ... floppy wind chimes.. . that don't chime. They just kinds slap together wetly. And drip.
Arms... Legs.. heads... various odds and ends... lay all around me... a veritable sea of dead monkey men. I sense others watching me fearfully from the darker corners of the village. Apparently they fear coming out now.
Wait... whats that... I thought I could hear a voice... a weasely.. hollow sound... "aww maate... not nice maaaate"... no wait... must be the wind.
As I comb my bloodslick hair into place I ponder why I would have gone on such a rampage. I guess the evil monkeys must have tried to take the Precious away... so that kinda justifies mass murder. The Precious provides me with a hot black drink that gives me energy and goodness. As I sip it, flicking unidenified sticky bits of monkey off the cup and admirning my gaunt features in my mirror I decide to head back into the jungle and try to launch the boat myself. The precious will show me the way now. I can't spend my days looking for a freak who keeps gerbils locked in a cage on his boat with his Horny Helmets and Gimp Suits. It could take forever to find someone that odd.
Last thing I remember is that fool with he horny helmet rocketing past me screaming like a little girl. Now I find myself leaning against the Very Bad Thing at the edge of the village. The same Very Bad Thing that cored Skook like an apple before hurling the hollow remains off the edge of the cliff.
And whats this... The Precious is red... no wait... it's red a dripping... the red is blood. Oh... I see I'm covered in blood. All around me are the bloodied remains of there are giblets swinging from trees like wind chimes. Well... bloody... wet ... floppy wind chimes.. . that don't chime. They just kinds slap together wetly. And drip.
Arms... Legs.. heads... various odds and ends... lay all around me... a veritable sea of dead monkey men. I sense others watching me fearfully from the darker corners of the village. Apparently they fear coming out now.
Wait... whats that... I thought I could hear a voice... a weasely.. hollow sound... "aww maate... not nice maaaate"... no wait... must be the wind.
As I comb my bloodslick hair into place I ponder why I would have gone on such a rampage. I guess the evil monkeys must have tried to take the Precious away... so that kinda justifies mass murder. The Precious provides me with a hot black drink that gives me energy and goodness. As I sip it, flicking unidenified sticky bits of monkey off the cup and admirning my gaunt features in my mirror I decide to head back into the jungle and try to launch the boat myself. The precious will show me the way now. I can't spend my days looking for a freak who keeps gerbils locked in a cage on his boat with his Horny Helmets and Gimp Suits. It could take forever to find someone that odd.
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