Jolly old Saint Nicholas
Lean your ear this way!
Don’t tell a single soul;
What I’m about to say,
Christmas Eve is coming soon;
And he’ll be on the piss,
Talking loud and falling down;
He won’t be hard to miss!
When the clock is striking twelve;
He’ll striking out,
All that beer and scotch;
No amount of cookies can help him out,
Stumbling round a stranger’s house;
Certainly a sight to see,
The stockings are presents;
Definitely not for pee!
Dad’s awake because of the ruckus;
Cricket bat in hand,
He stands at the door with a look of shock;
A jolly fat man was headed for land,
On his back and in his jocks;
He’s been involved with too many activities,
Down and out, old Santa Claus;
He’s going to miss all the festivities!
Original Song
Relating Friday Challenge
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Just one tiny, practically insignificant change...
Now, because almost all historical information mentioned in this challenge I didn’t know about*, mainly because American history isn’t huge in Australian schools, my story is based on the Phillipines as I do know a little about this.
In 1965 after 400 years of Spanish rule a rebellion to liberate the Filipino people erupts. During a ceremony to commemorate the 400 years rule 1000’s of Filipinos rose up and took control of the government. The Spanish king was there to help with the celebration and was taken hostage, the ransom – Freedom for the Philippines.
Spain reacts by condemning the Filipinos and declares war on them. Australia and a majority of South-East Asia stand behind The Philippines, although no European countries support Spain because almost all of their empires have fallen as well. This standoff results in the Philippines becoming its own country, returning the king without harm, embracing its traditional culture and eventually creating a huge tourist scene. By the mid 80’s the Philippines is booming and it has become a holiday spot for the rich people of the western world. A new leader is voted in and begins to change some things about the way the country is run. The main changes being: the legalisation of drugs, introduction of government funding gambling houses, unrestricted prostitution and large amounts of funding to military.
In a speech by this leader at the Millennium celebration she describes how she plans to expand The Philippines and unite South-East Asia and Australasia under one banner. Although in the speech she describes this unification as one of diplomacy, it becomes apparent to those countries that refuse that the response to non-compliance is invasion. While some of the poorer, less developed countries were immediately interested in joining there was a number of them were not. This created a divide. My thinking is that there would Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand and possibly Papua New Guinea on one side and the rest of South East Asia on the other.
This is where my mind has stopped. I’m home sick from work and my brain isn’t communication to my hands too well. Tossing up the idea of there being no WW2 only a WW1, which is very different to our WW1, a peace treaty is signed banning all projectile weapons. Implementation of new rules of war such as: only hand held weapons, swords, knives, hand to hand. That’s just a thought though. But anyway that’s my idea for this. I
*Including the American-Spanish War, I know. That’s bad. But I’m Generation Y so I don’t care. I just get drunk and have no morals.
In 1965 after 400 years of Spanish rule a rebellion to liberate the Filipino people erupts. During a ceremony to commemorate the 400 years rule 1000’s of Filipinos rose up and took control of the government. The Spanish king was there to help with the celebration and was taken hostage, the ransom – Freedom for the Philippines.
Spain reacts by condemning the Filipinos and declares war on them. Australia and a majority of South-East Asia stand behind The Philippines, although no European countries support Spain because almost all of their empires have fallen as well. This standoff results in the Philippines becoming its own country, returning the king without harm, embracing its traditional culture and eventually creating a huge tourist scene. By the mid 80’s the Philippines is booming and it has become a holiday spot for the rich people of the western world. A new leader is voted in and begins to change some things about the way the country is run. The main changes being: the legalisation of drugs, introduction of government funding gambling houses, unrestricted prostitution and large amounts of funding to military.
In a speech by this leader at the Millennium celebration she describes how she plans to expand The Philippines and unite South-East Asia and Australasia under one banner. Although in the speech she describes this unification as one of diplomacy, it becomes apparent to those countries that refuse that the response to non-compliance is invasion. While some of the poorer, less developed countries were immediately interested in joining there was a number of them were not. This created a divide. My thinking is that there would Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand and possibly Papua New Guinea on one side and the rest of South East Asia on the other.
This is where my mind has stopped. I’m home sick from work and my brain isn’t communication to my hands too well. Tossing up the idea of there being no WW2 only a WW1, which is very different to our WW1, a peace treaty is signed banning all projectile weapons. Implementation of new rules of war such as: only hand held weapons, swords, knives, hand to hand. That’s just a thought though. But anyway that’s my idea for this. I
*Including the American-Spanish War, I know. That’s bad. But I’m Generation Y so I don’t care. I just get drunk and have no morals.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Summertime on the Peninsula
For me summer is a long remembered dream. It’s winter in Adelaide, South Australia. Well, in actual fact it’s the start of spring. We were forecast 20mm to 40mm. It’s looking like 60mm. The depot is not the most popular place with the best of weather. Now nobody comes. Nobody rings. Nobody wants a container. Not today.
The rain is getting heavier. Although I am a winter person and I do love the rain. It relaxes me and reminds me of health, vitality and rebirth. I can’t help but to betray those feelings for a longing for sunshine. Even just the slightest amount. The beginning of summer is always the bet where I live. Warm air and slightly cool breezes. Everybody is out of the houses and soaking in the sun after the long haul of winter. Even more so in the summer to come, as our winter this year has been very wet and very cold. We have missed the rains during our long drought, but the grass is always greener.
I long to see people outside exercising, seeing friends and family, drinking on the beach, firing up the crappy electric BBQ’s supplied by the council. Always out and about, things to do, people to see. Friday nights are always a local affair. To a friend’s house, to the local night clubs and bars, even the occasional stranger’s party. They are never truly strangers though. You either went to school with them or know some who did. Everybody is welcome. Saturday’s relaxing at the beach or at a mate’s place, so long as he got a pool or an air con and a Playstation.
Saturday night, that’s when it happens. People from every suburb, every area, all converge on the city centre. Hindley St, Rundle St, Light Square… anywhere there’s a pub or a club. The city is alive. The streets are its veins and the people its blood. North, South, East and West. They all come. They all love it. They all complain about it on Monday morning. But they all go back. I love it. Summer nights in the city, drinking cold beers outside where ever you can, as late as you can, then heading inside to dance the early mornings away. When the night is slowly turning into day, Vodka, soda and fresh lime, is best for those times.
Walking out of a club on Sunday morning with the Sun coming up, feelings of regret, excitement and anger… anger because once again you didn’t bring your sunglasses with you. Like you tell yourself you will every week. Then the epic quest to find a taxi home, you can never find one. But you need it, you need your bed to sleep the rest of the morning off.
Sundays are the best days. Relaxing, seeing friends, watching DVD’s, reading a book. Whatever you want. Dreading work the next day but enjoying the last few hours of the weekend. Summer is a good time where I live. I love it, music, drinks, BBQ’s, friends and family… let alone the festivals that come with it. But that is a story for another time. That is summer for me.
But right now, its winter and it’s cold. My toes are almost numb here in the depot office. The phone still hasn’t rung and I still have the same amount of containers. This is winter at the depot. Summer is just around the corner and I can’t wait.
The rain is getting heavier. Although I am a winter person and I do love the rain. It relaxes me and reminds me of health, vitality and rebirth. I can’t help but to betray those feelings for a longing for sunshine. Even just the slightest amount. The beginning of summer is always the bet where I live. Warm air and slightly cool breezes. Everybody is out of the houses and soaking in the sun after the long haul of winter. Even more so in the summer to come, as our winter this year has been very wet and very cold. We have missed the rains during our long drought, but the grass is always greener.
I long to see people outside exercising, seeing friends and family, drinking on the beach, firing up the crappy electric BBQ’s supplied by the council. Always out and about, things to do, people to see. Friday nights are always a local affair. To a friend’s house, to the local night clubs and bars, even the occasional stranger’s party. They are never truly strangers though. You either went to school with them or know some who did. Everybody is welcome. Saturday’s relaxing at the beach or at a mate’s place, so long as he got a pool or an air con and a Playstation.
Saturday night, that’s when it happens. People from every suburb, every area, all converge on the city centre. Hindley St, Rundle St, Light Square… anywhere there’s a pub or a club. The city is alive. The streets are its veins and the people its blood. North, South, East and West. They all come. They all love it. They all complain about it on Monday morning. But they all go back. I love it. Summer nights in the city, drinking cold beers outside where ever you can, as late as you can, then heading inside to dance the early mornings away. When the night is slowly turning into day, Vodka, soda and fresh lime, is best for those times.
Walking out of a club on Sunday morning with the Sun coming up, feelings of regret, excitement and anger… anger because once again you didn’t bring your sunglasses with you. Like you tell yourself you will every week. Then the epic quest to find a taxi home, you can never find one. But you need it, you need your bed to sleep the rest of the morning off.
Sundays are the best days. Relaxing, seeing friends, watching DVD’s, reading a book. Whatever you want. Dreading work the next day but enjoying the last few hours of the weekend. Summer is a good time where I live. I love it, music, drinks, BBQ’s, friends and family… let alone the festivals that come with it. But that is a story for another time. That is summer for me.
But right now, its winter and it’s cold. My toes are almost numb here in the depot office. The phone still hasn’t rung and I still have the same amount of containers. This is winter at the depot. Summer is just around the corner and I can’t wait.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Postcards With An Edge
Marcus,
I have just arrived in Hawker. It’s close to nowhere and very far away from anywhere else. Hope to leave for Wilpena Pound in the morning. It’s about an hour’s drive there, and then about 3 hours walk to the first Akurra site. Probably camp there for a few nights then come back. I have asked a few natives about Akurra and have been corrected for calling it the rainbow serpent. Apparently it’s different, same same but different. I hope to hire a local as a guide either today or in the morning. Also, none of the settlers want to discuss the rumoured sighting, which makes it hard to find anything out. There seems to be a strange rift between the natives and the settlers. There is a pub that has rooms to rent, hearty meals and cold beer. I’ll be staying there the days I am in town.
Paul.
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Marcus,
I saw it! It was huge. I have never seen a serpent, or any creature, that size before. It came on the last night as we we’re preparing for bed. We heard it first. Then when Shamus, my guide, shined the spot light on it. We caught a glimpse of its face but it quickly turned as the light hit it and headed back the way it came. It was hard to tell how big it was, but it must have been over 40 metres long. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. It was beautiful. It left no tracks. I didn’t want to leave but we were running out of supplies. We will stay the night in town and head off again tomorrow, I need to see her again. Will speak to you soon.
Paul.
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Marcus,
Shamus has disappeared. He became frustrated last night and decided to sleep away from the camp site. Only a few metres, but in the morning he was gone, although his belongings remained. The locals had warned us of cooking meat near the water sources, we had heeded their warnings, until last night. Shamus had bugged me for days, the brat. The settlers want to take revenge on Akurra, but the natives have warned them that she cannot be killed and will react violently. A group is heading out in the morning to attempt to kill her. I will be going with them, I will get evidence of her existence and I shall endeavour to persuade them not to go through with it.
Paul.
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Marcus,
They are all dead. All who picked up arms against her were killed. I pleaded with them not to go, but in the end I cared not for them. I am the only one that saw it and lived. The creature mustn’t be harmed. I couldn’t allow it. She and I, we are linked. I will do anything to protect her. I have done everything to protect her. They brought this on themselves. I will not be returning.
Paul.
I have just arrived in Hawker. It’s close to nowhere and very far away from anywhere else. Hope to leave for Wilpena Pound in the morning. It’s about an hour’s drive there, and then about 3 hours walk to the first Akurra site. Probably camp there for a few nights then come back. I have asked a few natives about Akurra and have been corrected for calling it the rainbow serpent. Apparently it’s different, same same but different. I hope to hire a local as a guide either today or in the morning. Also, none of the settlers want to discuss the rumoured sighting, which makes it hard to find anything out. There seems to be a strange rift between the natives and the settlers. There is a pub that has rooms to rent, hearty meals and cold beer. I’ll be staying there the days I am in town.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
I saw it! It was huge. I have never seen a serpent, or any creature, that size before. It came on the last night as we we’re preparing for bed. We heard it first. Then when Shamus, my guide, shined the spot light on it. We caught a glimpse of its face but it quickly turned as the light hit it and headed back the way it came. It was hard to tell how big it was, but it must have been over 40 metres long. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. It was beautiful. It left no tracks. I didn’t want to leave but we were running out of supplies. We will stay the night in town and head off again tomorrow, I need to see her again. Will speak to you soon.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
Shamus has disappeared. He became frustrated last night and decided to sleep away from the camp site. Only a few metres, but in the morning he was gone, although his belongings remained. The locals had warned us of cooking meat near the water sources, we had heeded their warnings, until last night. Shamus had bugged me for days, the brat. The settlers want to take revenge on Akurra, but the natives have warned them that she cannot be killed and will react violently. A group is heading out in the morning to attempt to kill her. I will be going with them, I will get evidence of her existence and I shall endeavour to persuade them not to go through with it.
Paul.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus,
They are all dead. All who picked up arms against her were killed. I pleaded with them not to go, but in the end I cared not for them. I am the only one that saw it and lived. The creature mustn’t be harmed. I couldn’t allow it. She and I, we are linked. I will do anything to protect her. I have done everything to protect her. They brought this on themselves. I will not be returning.
Paul.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Ali and The Phorty
a.k.a. Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves
I really did love that music. Now people say that all the time, but I really did. It just agreed with me. It’s called Hard House and apparently it first came about at the end of 20th century. In the last few years its come back, in a very big way. The last thing I want to do when I am dialling out on the dance floor with one of my numerous favourite DJ’s pumping out some heavy hoovers is have a conversation with someone. Even if it is my girlfriend. However, that was what was happening to me. I couldn’t understand what she was talking about and really, I didn’t want to. She was persistent though. She could not understand my fascination with the music and therefore couldn’t understand why on earth I didn’t want to talk to her. ‘Look’, I said ‘It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s that I like this music more right now. He’ll be finished in half an hour”. Not surprisingly she flicked her cigarette at me and walked away. The problem with taking as much Funk as I had that night was that you lose a lot of your social abilities. You see, at the time it seemed like a perfectly normal response, but telling your girlfriend that you like music more than her is very stupid. This didn’t matter however because I could hear a new track coming in and could feel another wave of Funk building up on me.
It was at least an hour later before Maddox, the DJ, finished his set. As the music slowed down I gave him a cheer and clap and then set off to right my wrongs, namely, find my girlfriend. I lit a cigarette and headed off in the same direction as she had. I bumped into one of her friends. A real ‘nice’ guy that never did anything he shouldn’t have until he was about twenty, but now smokes and eats too many drugs and keeps getting busted because he’s an idiot. “Troy, have you seen Morigana at all?” I asked him.
“Yeah bro, I saw Mori. Like an hour ago?” he replied pulling one of his arrogant faces. Jerk off.
“Ok. Did you see where she went?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did Ali, she was chatting to some of those Phorty dude’s. She went down the elevator with them” Troy said with a sly smirk on his face.
He was smirking because he knew I hated those guys. The Phorty’s were a street gang. They dealt with drugs mainly, lots of them, really good ones too. The way my head had been swimming for last hour I could safely assume the drugs I had eaten were theirs. Their other trade was violence. Another thing they were really good at. If a Phorty showed up you could almost count on the fact that there would be a fight or an argument following shortly. Now my girlfriend was off somewhere with a bunch of them. I thanked Troy as nicely as I could and headed for the elevator. I grabbed a drink before jumping in the elevator, one hundred and fifty floors takes a long time to get down. It really is the only negative of having roof top raves. The Phorty’s! For fuck sake. These guys are scum bags and they’re stupid. Even their name was stupid. The Phorty’s, because there was forty of them. Well there is more like a hundred of them now. When they first started out there was forty. They were originally a separated into about five smaller gangs. To annihilate the competition they just joined up. Simple, they all work together, they all make more money, and they all can’t spell for shit.
I tried ringing Mori on her mobile, but no answer. She was pissed. I can understand that. I had an idea where they might be. There’s a bar not far from where I was that the Phorty’s and their wannabes hung out. It was a shit hole. It had played old rock music, had cheap drinks and dodgy patrons. I needed some protection; there was no way I saw going to step into a shitty little dive like that without carrying something. So, I stopped in at my brother’s shop on the way. He owned a crappy pawn shop that was open 24 hours. He liked that. It made it easier for him to buy and sell stolen merchandise without getting caught. He was greedy bastard. Would buy and sell anything he could. Computers, music, weapons, phones, cars even people if he could. This was a huge difference from guerrilla shit he was getting himself into when he was younger. “Cassim, I need a knife man, a small one. Something I can dack” I told my brother with a smile and a wink.
“What?” he said, looking slightly angry and confused.
“A knife, it’s kind of like a small metal stick that is pointy at one end and had a handle at the other”
“Don’t be a smart arse mate, what do ya need it for? Go through the back” he said standing up off his stool and following me out the back. He walked over to a large trunk sitting on the floor. He rummaged through it for a few seconds and pulled out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. He handed it to me and said “Here, this ought to do the trick”. I took it from him and pulled the cloth away. The item in my hand did not look like a knife. It looked like the handle of a knife with no blade. “Cassim, what the hell is this?” I said throwing back at him. He caught and handed it back to me saying “Look at the bottom of the handle ya cock head”. I turned it upside down and on the bottom was a switch with four positions and a green button. Each position on the switch had a small picture on it, I pulled it closer to try and make them out.
“A shiv, a double sided knife, a baton or a spiked bat you dumb arse” Cassim said making me feel a little stupid, but he is my big brother “You select one and press the green button, its filled with liquid memory-metal. You press the button and instantly the weapon you selected flicks up, it’s called a 4H, give it a go”. I selected the baton and pressed the button. There was a sharp wet sound followed by a tinging sound and a foot long metal baton had appeared on the end of the handle. I stared at it for a while before finally, “That is cool man, I’m outta here”.
As I stepped out into the street, with the 4H tucked into the back of my jeans, I saw Mori turn down an alley about 500 metres down the street. She was with two of the biggest roid munching Phorty freaks I had ever seen. I chased after them which was a hard task, considering the amount of Funk still in my system. By the time I had got to the end of the alley they were already through one of the doors. I ran down the alley but slowed as I came closer to the door. It had no handle but a small key pad. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, I didn’t know the pass-code. So I lit a cigarette and waited just out of sight behind an air-conditioning unit. I tried ringing her a few times, nothing, and the last time I rang it had been turned off. Bitch. I decided I would wait for them to come back out and wait to see how she was acting. Laughing and having a good time, it was over. Crying and sad, I was going to pulverise the two freaks and be the hero. This, however, was beginning seem less likely as the minutes turned into hours. It was almost three hours before I heard the door creak open. The same two guys came out laughing and sniggering to themselves. “That was crazy mate, but should we leave her in there?” the taller of the two said.
“Yeah, she’ll be right. She’s out of it man. Ate way too much of that shit” replied the shorter one, he had lots of scars over his face and hands.
“Made her mouthy too, deserved that slap really”
“Yeah mate, course’ she did. Heh heh heh”. That snigger made me cringe.
“Heh, right then, let’s fuck off back to that rave for a few. I’ve still got a whole bag of Funkies to unload”. They turned a started to make their way out of the alley.
My mind raced. What the fuck had they done to Mori? I shook with fear and rage. I couldn’t let them get away but they were big, real big. I pulled out the 4H, set it to the spiked club and pressed the button down on my leg. In my hand was a medieval looking spiked bat, a morning star my dad had called them. I sprinted up behind the smaller Phorty and slammed the club into the back of his head. He fell to the ground with the club still lodged in his skull, his body twitching and oozing blood. The taller one stepped back, I could tell he was freaked. The small guy must have been his tough guy idol cause this guy didn’t want a bar it. “What's the fucking pass-code you fuck!?” I screamed at him.
“He’s got it on a card in his wallet man! Just piss off!” he yelped, what a big tough queer this guy was.
“Thanks” I said swiping the club a across his face, most of it came off. He slumped to the ground in a heap. He groaned something shocking and made an awful noise. This noise made me grimace and like a reflex I swung and slammed the club into to his head, finishing him off. I set about searching the shorter one for this pass-code. All that was in his wallet was a huge wad of cash and a small card with the word ‘Sesame’ written on it. I took both. I dragged the two mounds of flesh out of the light. They could still be seen if someone came looking, but it would have to do for now. I walked over to the door, still a little shaky about what I had just done. I typed Sesame into the key pad, the light on top blinked green and the door opened.
I really had no idea what I was going to do, or what I was doing for that matter. It was slowly starting to dawn on me that I had just killed two people. Two people who had friends that would be upset about it. The Funk in my system was helping me to cope with it, to make me think differently about it. I peered into the hallway ahead of me trying to see something that could guide me. The light in the hallway was red and gave it a very seedy feel. There was a door one metre ahead on the right and another door two metres down on the left. At the end of the hallway was a spiral staircase. I decided it would be best to search these two bottom rooms first. I changed the 4H to the double sided knife and held it tightly in my hand. I crept to the first door and slowly opened it, stepped back and braced myself for what was in there...
Nothing.
No one shouted. No one moved. I peered and saw a very sophisticated drug making lab. It was bubbling away and there was a strange misty smoke pouring from the top of it. I could smell that it was Funk, a lot of it. Carefully, I stepped into the room looked around. There was a table in the corner that had a pile of cash on one side of it and a pile of bagged up Funk on the other. There was thousands there. It crossed my mind to grab it, but I had more important things to deal with.
As I crept out of the room and along the wall to the second door my body shook with fear. I could hear someone in there, moving about and making groaning noises. I felt sick with fear and guilt. It was either Mori or another Phorty off his head, or both. Once again a pushed the door open slowly and braced myself. Nothing again, except that the groaning got slightly louder. I peaked around the corner and caught a glimpse of Mori. She was lying face down on a bed in vomit. I launched forward into the room, forgetting about the possible Phorty’s. Luckily there were none. I turned Mori over, her face was swollen, but she was breathing still, and her eyes were rolling in the back of her head. She probably felt amazing to tell the truth. I pulled her over my shoulder, grabbed her bag and headed for the front door.
I stopped outside the first room for a moment. I stepped into the drug lab room and placed Mori down softly onto the couch. I stared at the pile of money and drugs; there was a lot of it. Fuck it I thought. I filled my pockets with cash and filled Mori’s bag with drugs and some more cash. I picked Mori up and headed for the front door. There was no one in the alley when I stuck my head around the corner... except for the two dead guys. I would have to move them or something, but my hands were full now. So I headed up the alley to get back my brother’s shop, fortunately it was close and no one was in the street.
I burst in the back door and sat Mori in the arm chair. Cassim was marching down the hallway yelling at me in Arabic, he only spoke Arabic when he was angry. “Mate! What ave’ I told you about using...” Cassim stopped yelling and stared at Mori for a few seconds. “Don’t bring ya messed up girlfriend ere’ mate, take her to the fakin’ hospital!”
“They did this to her ya dickhead! She didn’t do it to herself. Its Funk anyway, it won’t kill her. Go get some water will ya” I said to him frantically. He came walking back with a jug of water and shoved it in my face. “If she fakin’ starts shaking shes out mate. I don’t want no one... Geez, where’d the cash come from mate?” Cassim said walking over to the bag on the table. He was pulling the cash out and put it on the table, his eyes light with excitement. “There’s gotta be two hundred grand ere’ Ali, and look at all that Funk man! Where the faks its from?” he asked turning to stare at me. I knew what he was thinking... More.
“I spotted some Phorty’s walkin’ Mori down this alley way, so I followed em’” I explained what had happened up until now. He stood there moving his eyes between the cash, the drugs, Mori and me. Stepping back rubbing he hand on his jaw, he looked shocked. “So you killed two of em’?” he asked.
“Yeah, they are still down there though, I really should move em’ or something”
“Nah, I’ll do that mate. You stay here and look after Mori”
“No. I’ll do it. I don’t wanna get you involved in this mess”
“Hey, you’re my brother. I’m already involved. What’s that pass-code again? Semi something?” he said he slight grin on his face.
“What? Ya not gonna go back in there are ya? Are you a fucking idiot!?!” I yelled at him.
“Fuck you man, I’ll stash the bodies in there and grab some cash. Then try an’ blow up the lab. See? Cover our tracks”
I didn’t want to admit it. But he was right, it was a good plan. That would set us up with some money and get rid of the dead guy problem. Cassim has been around. He was involved with all sorts of bad shit; Fights, bombings, stabbings, robbery, everything really. I could trust him not to blow himself up. “Sesame. Just don’t get ya’self killed. I’ll come looking for ya in 30 minutes”.
I woke suddenly forgetting where I was for a moment. I had fallen asleep in the arm chair next to Mori. I quickly fumbled for my phone to check the time. I had been a sleep for two hours. Idiot. I jumped out of the chair and made my way back to the alleyway. The building was still there. So Cassim hadn’t blown it up. Either his plan had failed, or he had never gone through with it. Keeping to the shadows and close to the wall I crept toward the door. I could see that the two Phorty’s I had taken out were gone. There was a blood trail that ran to the door, but someone had attempted clean it up. I mind raced. I didn’t want to barge in there in case there were more Phorty’s but I didn’t want to leave without finding out where Cassim was. As I stepped back my foot slid just a touch to the side. I was standing in another pool of blood. Turning around slowly, I could now see what had become of my brother. He had been nailed to the wall by his hands and feet, and had been disembowelled. His stomach and intestines hung low around his knees and his head rest calmly on his shoulder. I wanted to get him down but he was at least 6 foot up the wall. I slipped in his blood as I turned to run and found myself huddled by the air conditioning unit again. I sat there for what seemed like hours. It may have only been a few seconds, I don’t know. Then I heard the sound of hover-bikes coming from down the road. A lot of them by the sounds of things.
They entered the alley. There were easily thirty of them. The repulsion engines roared as the bikes one by one came to a stop, lining up side by side. The Phorty. The darkness of the alley made it hard for me to make out faces, but I guess it made it hard for them to see me. Because they didn’t. One after the other passed me and walked into the building; some spitting, some snorting at my brother’s dead body. All of them cursing him. Finally, the last of them had entered the building. My heart beat raced. They hadn’t seen me at all, lucky for me. The Funk was well and truly out of my system by then. So I felt even worse. What the fuck was I going to do? I swung my head back and it hit the air-con unit hard. That’s when it hit me. Air-con... Funk... I lept to my feet and sprinted back to the shop.
Funk, it was an amazing drug when it was first released. It was even endorsed by the government, well, only to the point in which they said if you have to take something it may as well be Funk. Why? Because you can’t overdose on it. You could eat fifty Funk pills and get completely of your face, you might not know your name for a few days. But when it wore off, you’d be fine. Well, maybe not fine. Your head would ache and your skin would crawl for a while. But you wouldn’t be dead. Proper junkies started crushing it up and injecting the shit. That worked even better, but still no body died from it. It was like a wonder drug. The happiness of Ecstasy mixed with the energy of methamphetamine, and you couldn’t kill yourself. Well, not until a bunch of lads from Sydney started snorting the shit. For some reason the effect that Funk had on you when it entered your lungs was not good. Not good at all. It fucking killed you. First of all it gave you best high you had ever had, but within 15 minutes you were convulsing and frothing at the mouth. The Funk clogs your lungs and then basically tears them open.
I burst into the back room of the shop, Mori was still there and still out of it. I grabbed the Funk, put all the pills into one large plastic bag and headed back. When I arrived I could hear music blaring from the building. Hard House... arse holes, playing my favourite music after killing my fucking brother. I carefully removed one of the panels on the air-con with the spiked bat. Then, using the baton I crushed the pills up into a fine powder and tipped it onto the fans. The powder whizzed through the fan and down the pipes. I stood still, listening, hoping for some sign that it was working. Then it started. I could hear them, their voices getting louder, chanting, singing, and laughing. But not for long. I stayed still listening until I heard the first one gag. I heard it over all the music and noise. It was the same noise a wild pig makes after being stabbed through the chest. A blood gargling bawl. I slid the 4H back into my pocket and turned to look at my brother. I would leave him there, as a sign, as warning. Greed can kill, but so can I.
I really did love that music. Now people say that all the time, but I really did. It just agreed with me. It’s called Hard House and apparently it first came about at the end of 20th century. In the last few years its come back, in a very big way. The last thing I want to do when I am dialling out on the dance floor with one of my numerous favourite DJ’s pumping out some heavy hoovers is have a conversation with someone. Even if it is my girlfriend. However, that was what was happening to me. I couldn’t understand what she was talking about and really, I didn’t want to. She was persistent though. She could not understand my fascination with the music and therefore couldn’t understand why on earth I didn’t want to talk to her. ‘Look’, I said ‘It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s that I like this music more right now. He’ll be finished in half an hour”. Not surprisingly she flicked her cigarette at me and walked away. The problem with taking as much Funk as I had that night was that you lose a lot of your social abilities. You see, at the time it seemed like a perfectly normal response, but telling your girlfriend that you like music more than her is very stupid. This didn’t matter however because I could hear a new track coming in and could feel another wave of Funk building up on me.
It was at least an hour later before Maddox, the DJ, finished his set. As the music slowed down I gave him a cheer and clap and then set off to right my wrongs, namely, find my girlfriend. I lit a cigarette and headed off in the same direction as she had. I bumped into one of her friends. A real ‘nice’ guy that never did anything he shouldn’t have until he was about twenty, but now smokes and eats too many drugs and keeps getting busted because he’s an idiot. “Troy, have you seen Morigana at all?” I asked him.
“Yeah bro, I saw Mori. Like an hour ago?” he replied pulling one of his arrogant faces. Jerk off.
“Ok. Did you see where she went?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did Ali, she was chatting to some of those Phorty dude’s. She went down the elevator with them” Troy said with a sly smirk on his face.
He was smirking because he knew I hated those guys. The Phorty’s were a street gang. They dealt with drugs mainly, lots of them, really good ones too. The way my head had been swimming for last hour I could safely assume the drugs I had eaten were theirs. Their other trade was violence. Another thing they were really good at. If a Phorty showed up you could almost count on the fact that there would be a fight or an argument following shortly. Now my girlfriend was off somewhere with a bunch of them. I thanked Troy as nicely as I could and headed for the elevator. I grabbed a drink before jumping in the elevator, one hundred and fifty floors takes a long time to get down. It really is the only negative of having roof top raves. The Phorty’s! For fuck sake. These guys are scum bags and they’re stupid. Even their name was stupid. The Phorty’s, because there was forty of them. Well there is more like a hundred of them now. When they first started out there was forty. They were originally a separated into about five smaller gangs. To annihilate the competition they just joined up. Simple, they all work together, they all make more money, and they all can’t spell for shit.
I tried ringing Mori on her mobile, but no answer. She was pissed. I can understand that. I had an idea where they might be. There’s a bar not far from where I was that the Phorty’s and their wannabes hung out. It was a shit hole. It had played old rock music, had cheap drinks and dodgy patrons. I needed some protection; there was no way I saw going to step into a shitty little dive like that without carrying something. So, I stopped in at my brother’s shop on the way. He owned a crappy pawn shop that was open 24 hours. He liked that. It made it easier for him to buy and sell stolen merchandise without getting caught. He was greedy bastard. Would buy and sell anything he could. Computers, music, weapons, phones, cars even people if he could. This was a huge difference from guerrilla shit he was getting himself into when he was younger. “Cassim, I need a knife man, a small one. Something I can dack” I told my brother with a smile and a wink.
“What?” he said, looking slightly angry and confused.
“A knife, it’s kind of like a small metal stick that is pointy at one end and had a handle at the other”
“Don’t be a smart arse mate, what do ya need it for? Go through the back” he said standing up off his stool and following me out the back. He walked over to a large trunk sitting on the floor. He rummaged through it for a few seconds and pulled out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. He handed it to me and said “Here, this ought to do the trick”. I took it from him and pulled the cloth away. The item in my hand did not look like a knife. It looked like the handle of a knife with no blade. “Cassim, what the hell is this?” I said throwing back at him. He caught and handed it back to me saying “Look at the bottom of the handle ya cock head”. I turned it upside down and on the bottom was a switch with four positions and a green button. Each position on the switch had a small picture on it, I pulled it closer to try and make them out.
“A shiv, a double sided knife, a baton or a spiked bat you dumb arse” Cassim said making me feel a little stupid, but he is my big brother “You select one and press the green button, its filled with liquid memory-metal. You press the button and instantly the weapon you selected flicks up, it’s called a 4H, give it a go”. I selected the baton and pressed the button. There was a sharp wet sound followed by a tinging sound and a foot long metal baton had appeared on the end of the handle. I stared at it for a while before finally, “That is cool man, I’m outta here”.
As I stepped out into the street, with the 4H tucked into the back of my jeans, I saw Mori turn down an alley about 500 metres down the street. She was with two of the biggest roid munching Phorty freaks I had ever seen. I chased after them which was a hard task, considering the amount of Funk still in my system. By the time I had got to the end of the alley they were already through one of the doors. I ran down the alley but slowed as I came closer to the door. It had no handle but a small key pad. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, I didn’t know the pass-code. So I lit a cigarette and waited just out of sight behind an air-conditioning unit. I tried ringing her a few times, nothing, and the last time I rang it had been turned off. Bitch. I decided I would wait for them to come back out and wait to see how she was acting. Laughing and having a good time, it was over. Crying and sad, I was going to pulverise the two freaks and be the hero. This, however, was beginning seem less likely as the minutes turned into hours. It was almost three hours before I heard the door creak open. The same two guys came out laughing and sniggering to themselves. “That was crazy mate, but should we leave her in there?” the taller of the two said.
“Yeah, she’ll be right. She’s out of it man. Ate way too much of that shit” replied the shorter one, he had lots of scars over his face and hands.
“Made her mouthy too, deserved that slap really”
“Yeah mate, course’ she did. Heh heh heh”. That snigger made me cringe.
“Heh, right then, let’s fuck off back to that rave for a few. I’ve still got a whole bag of Funkies to unload”. They turned a started to make their way out of the alley.
My mind raced. What the fuck had they done to Mori? I shook with fear and rage. I couldn’t let them get away but they were big, real big. I pulled out the 4H, set it to the spiked club and pressed the button down on my leg. In my hand was a medieval looking spiked bat, a morning star my dad had called them. I sprinted up behind the smaller Phorty and slammed the club into the back of his head. He fell to the ground with the club still lodged in his skull, his body twitching and oozing blood. The taller one stepped back, I could tell he was freaked. The small guy must have been his tough guy idol cause this guy didn’t want a bar it. “What's the fucking pass-code you fuck!?” I screamed at him.
“He’s got it on a card in his wallet man! Just piss off!” he yelped, what a big tough queer this guy was.
“Thanks” I said swiping the club a across his face, most of it came off. He slumped to the ground in a heap. He groaned something shocking and made an awful noise. This noise made me grimace and like a reflex I swung and slammed the club into to his head, finishing him off. I set about searching the shorter one for this pass-code. All that was in his wallet was a huge wad of cash and a small card with the word ‘Sesame’ written on it. I took both. I dragged the two mounds of flesh out of the light. They could still be seen if someone came looking, but it would have to do for now. I walked over to the door, still a little shaky about what I had just done. I typed Sesame into the key pad, the light on top blinked green and the door opened.
I really had no idea what I was going to do, or what I was doing for that matter. It was slowly starting to dawn on me that I had just killed two people. Two people who had friends that would be upset about it. The Funk in my system was helping me to cope with it, to make me think differently about it. I peered into the hallway ahead of me trying to see something that could guide me. The light in the hallway was red and gave it a very seedy feel. There was a door one metre ahead on the right and another door two metres down on the left. At the end of the hallway was a spiral staircase. I decided it would be best to search these two bottom rooms first. I changed the 4H to the double sided knife and held it tightly in my hand. I crept to the first door and slowly opened it, stepped back and braced myself for what was in there...
Nothing.
No one shouted. No one moved. I peered and saw a very sophisticated drug making lab. It was bubbling away and there was a strange misty smoke pouring from the top of it. I could smell that it was Funk, a lot of it. Carefully, I stepped into the room looked around. There was a table in the corner that had a pile of cash on one side of it and a pile of bagged up Funk on the other. There was thousands there. It crossed my mind to grab it, but I had more important things to deal with.
As I crept out of the room and along the wall to the second door my body shook with fear. I could hear someone in there, moving about and making groaning noises. I felt sick with fear and guilt. It was either Mori or another Phorty off his head, or both. Once again a pushed the door open slowly and braced myself. Nothing again, except that the groaning got slightly louder. I peaked around the corner and caught a glimpse of Mori. She was lying face down on a bed in vomit. I launched forward into the room, forgetting about the possible Phorty’s. Luckily there were none. I turned Mori over, her face was swollen, but she was breathing still, and her eyes were rolling in the back of her head. She probably felt amazing to tell the truth. I pulled her over my shoulder, grabbed her bag and headed for the front door.
I stopped outside the first room for a moment. I stepped into the drug lab room and placed Mori down softly onto the couch. I stared at the pile of money and drugs; there was a lot of it. Fuck it I thought. I filled my pockets with cash and filled Mori’s bag with drugs and some more cash. I picked Mori up and headed for the front door. There was no one in the alley when I stuck my head around the corner... except for the two dead guys. I would have to move them or something, but my hands were full now. So I headed up the alley to get back my brother’s shop, fortunately it was close and no one was in the street.
I burst in the back door and sat Mori in the arm chair. Cassim was marching down the hallway yelling at me in Arabic, he only spoke Arabic when he was angry. “Mate! What ave’ I told you about using...” Cassim stopped yelling and stared at Mori for a few seconds. “Don’t bring ya messed up girlfriend ere’ mate, take her to the fakin’ hospital!”
“They did this to her ya dickhead! She didn’t do it to herself. Its Funk anyway, it won’t kill her. Go get some water will ya” I said to him frantically. He came walking back with a jug of water and shoved it in my face. “If she fakin’ starts shaking shes out mate. I don’t want no one... Geez, where’d the cash come from mate?” Cassim said walking over to the bag on the table. He was pulling the cash out and put it on the table, his eyes light with excitement. “There’s gotta be two hundred grand ere’ Ali, and look at all that Funk man! Where the faks its from?” he asked turning to stare at me. I knew what he was thinking... More.
“I spotted some Phorty’s walkin’ Mori down this alley way, so I followed em’” I explained what had happened up until now. He stood there moving his eyes between the cash, the drugs, Mori and me. Stepping back rubbing he hand on his jaw, he looked shocked. “So you killed two of em’?” he asked.
“Yeah, they are still down there though, I really should move em’ or something”
“Nah, I’ll do that mate. You stay here and look after Mori”
“No. I’ll do it. I don’t wanna get you involved in this mess”
“Hey, you’re my brother. I’m already involved. What’s that pass-code again? Semi something?” he said he slight grin on his face.
“What? Ya not gonna go back in there are ya? Are you a fucking idiot!?!” I yelled at him.
“Fuck you man, I’ll stash the bodies in there and grab some cash. Then try an’ blow up the lab. See? Cover our tracks”
I didn’t want to admit it. But he was right, it was a good plan. That would set us up with some money and get rid of the dead guy problem. Cassim has been around. He was involved with all sorts of bad shit; Fights, bombings, stabbings, robbery, everything really. I could trust him not to blow himself up. “Sesame. Just don’t get ya’self killed. I’ll come looking for ya in 30 minutes”.
I woke suddenly forgetting where I was for a moment. I had fallen asleep in the arm chair next to Mori. I quickly fumbled for my phone to check the time. I had been a sleep for two hours. Idiot. I jumped out of the chair and made my way back to the alleyway. The building was still there. So Cassim hadn’t blown it up. Either his plan had failed, or he had never gone through with it. Keeping to the shadows and close to the wall I crept toward the door. I could see that the two Phorty’s I had taken out were gone. There was a blood trail that ran to the door, but someone had attempted clean it up. I mind raced. I didn’t want to barge in there in case there were more Phorty’s but I didn’t want to leave without finding out where Cassim was. As I stepped back my foot slid just a touch to the side. I was standing in another pool of blood. Turning around slowly, I could now see what had become of my brother. He had been nailed to the wall by his hands and feet, and had been disembowelled. His stomach and intestines hung low around his knees and his head rest calmly on his shoulder. I wanted to get him down but he was at least 6 foot up the wall. I slipped in his blood as I turned to run and found myself huddled by the air conditioning unit again. I sat there for what seemed like hours. It may have only been a few seconds, I don’t know. Then I heard the sound of hover-bikes coming from down the road. A lot of them by the sounds of things.
They entered the alley. There were easily thirty of them. The repulsion engines roared as the bikes one by one came to a stop, lining up side by side. The Phorty. The darkness of the alley made it hard for me to make out faces, but I guess it made it hard for them to see me. Because they didn’t. One after the other passed me and walked into the building; some spitting, some snorting at my brother’s dead body. All of them cursing him. Finally, the last of them had entered the building. My heart beat raced. They hadn’t seen me at all, lucky for me. The Funk was well and truly out of my system by then. So I felt even worse. What the fuck was I going to do? I swung my head back and it hit the air-con unit hard. That’s when it hit me. Air-con... Funk... I lept to my feet and sprinted back to the shop.
Funk, it was an amazing drug when it was first released. It was even endorsed by the government, well, only to the point in which they said if you have to take something it may as well be Funk. Why? Because you can’t overdose on it. You could eat fifty Funk pills and get completely of your face, you might not know your name for a few days. But when it wore off, you’d be fine. Well, maybe not fine. Your head would ache and your skin would crawl for a while. But you wouldn’t be dead. Proper junkies started crushing it up and injecting the shit. That worked even better, but still no body died from it. It was like a wonder drug. The happiness of Ecstasy mixed with the energy of methamphetamine, and you couldn’t kill yourself. Well, not until a bunch of lads from Sydney started snorting the shit. For some reason the effect that Funk had on you when it entered your lungs was not good. Not good at all. It fucking killed you. First of all it gave you best high you had ever had, but within 15 minutes you were convulsing and frothing at the mouth. The Funk clogs your lungs and then basically tears them open.
I burst into the back room of the shop, Mori was still there and still out of it. I grabbed the Funk, put all the pills into one large plastic bag and headed back. When I arrived I could hear music blaring from the building. Hard House... arse holes, playing my favourite music after killing my fucking brother. I carefully removed one of the panels on the air-con with the spiked bat. Then, using the baton I crushed the pills up into a fine powder and tipped it onto the fans. The powder whizzed through the fan and down the pipes. I stood still, listening, hoping for some sign that it was working. Then it started. I could hear them, their voices getting louder, chanting, singing, and laughing. But not for long. I stayed still listening until I heard the first one gag. I heard it over all the music and noise. It was the same noise a wild pig makes after being stabbed through the chest. A blood gargling bawl. I slid the 4H back into my pocket and turned to look at my brother. I would leave him there, as a sign, as warning. Greed can kill, but so can I.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Bush Mechanic
This story is not about my car but about my cousin’s car, although I was lucky enough to be there for it and survive it. Our Grandparents own a hobby farm in the Adelaide Hills about thirty minutes from the city. They did live there for a long time after they retired, they even ran a bee honey business out of it, but soon they grew tired of that life style a moved back to the city. The farm became our family’s holiday home and when the grandchildren became teenagers it became our party house whenever we could get up there.
One weekend in spring I headed up the farm with my younger cousin Bret a hand full of his friends. We arrived on Friday night cooked a barbeque and got absolutely blind drunk, as you do. It was a long night that involved drinking everything we had bought for weekend. In morning I awoke to discover that not only had all the alcohol been drunk, but the all the stuff for breakfast had been eaten too. Which I later discovered was my idea. So off to the shop it was for us. Most of the lads did not want to believe that it was in fact almost mid day, and that dealing with sun light and social activity was just around the corner. It was at least another hour before we got organised, piled into my cousin’s car and headed to the nearest town. We got loaded up with all the food we could afford and some more beers for the evening.
The road that leads to the farm is your typical windy country side road. Lots of sharp turns, drop offs, steep hills and ridiculously fast speed limits. There is also the occasional dirt road; the farm is actually on a very steep declining dirt road as well. Most of my family learnt the basics of driving on this road, doing shuttle runs up and down it and Bret was no exception. He was regaling his friends with stories of driving around the hills and learning to drive on the cruddy dirt road that the farm was on. Eventually one of his friends asked him “Have you ever timed how fast you can go down it?” Brett took the bait wonderfully “Nah, but we’ll give it ago now.”
Obviously not liking where this was going another friend asked “Are you sure man? Its looks pretty steep hey...”
“Don’t worry I know this road like the back of my hand”, Bret replied holding his hand up in front of his friend.
And there it was, boys and their cars. Bret stopped the car at the top of the road and asked someone start their stop watch. “GO!” yelled Byron, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Bret floored it, the wheels slightly spinning on the dirt as we took off. The first hundred metres we cruised along nicely. We approached first bend and I felt the car start to slide out along the dirt. “AH FU...” That’s all I heard. I had knocked my head on the roof of the car and had been knocked out. When I opened my eyes I was being shaken around by Bret, who was freaked out thinking he had killed me. My head ached and I was dazed, but I was ok. I got out of the car and laid on the ground for a while listening to the others argue about whose fault it was and what the hell they were going to do. I got up and looked at the car. It didn’t look the best. It was leaking coolant and the front wheel was on a very odd angle, and its tyre was blown. Bret was starting to lose it, and started hysterically yelping about what his parents were going to do to him.
There was a small mechanics garage about two kilometres back the way we had came, so after pooling all our funds Bret, Byron and myself started walking back to see what we could get done. So there we were. Three hung over dirty look teenagers trying to get our smashed car fixed so we didn’t have to face parents. The mechanic was there luckily and after explaining the situation he said he could help us, but it will probably cost a bit. I pulled our funds from my pocket and placed them on the counter; sixteen dollars, nine cigarettes and about fifteen dollars worth of weed. The mechanic looked at the pile I had placed in front of him, then looked at us, then burst out laughing. He actually laughed for quite awhile, I was beginning to feel awkward when he stood up and said “Alright fellas, I’ll do it, can’t knock such a tempting offer back! Ha ha!” That was it, he chucked us in the back of his ute/car tower mobile, picked the car up and fixed. The car was basically a write off, but he got working and told us we only had about two hours worth of driving left in the car. Probably the best mechanic I have ever met and I know that I will never get anything done to any car that cheap again. And for the record we got back to the farm ate food, got drunk, fell asleep and drove all the way back home again.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Friday Challenge - Reality TV
The Red State....
South Australia is a quiet state that is renowned for its wines, artistic culture and its lax laws on marijuana. Adelaide, the capital city, is often the victim of the snide jokes because its size, a mere one million, and supposed boring life style. It boasts some of the best music, art and theatre festivals in the country so it does sometimes seem unjustly victimised. Most of the jokes and insults stem from Adelaide’s apparent slow pace, but this is usually just an over exaggeration. Beneath Adelaide’s quiet exterior there lies a rotten dark underbelly. You see Adelaide has become know not only for its wines but its murders. I have been told that it has the highest rate of unusual murders in the world. There really is too many cases to discuss them all but the most recent and horrifying would have to be the Snow Town murders. Where a group of men got together and started to abducting known sexual offenders and homosexuals, raping them and then kill them. Then they were placed in to barrels of sulphuric acid and stored in the vault of an old bank in the sleepy rural settlement of Snow Town. It does not end there though; these men then started to collect the deceased’s welfare payments, and did so for a number of years until they were finally caught out. This is just one of the strange serial killings that have occurred, take a look at this website if you want learn about a few of the others:
http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/serial_killers/predators/adelaide/corpses_1.html
For my whole I life have grown up reading about stuff like this in the news and even learning about some of them at school. So my interest in serial killer novels and films obviously grew tremendously. Over the last few years there has been a huge increase in the amount of cop shows. I’m referring to the CSI’s, Criminal Intents and every other incredibly ridiculous show that has come about. So, here’s my idea. You get a small group of people together, I would say between four and six, to catch a serial killer, a real life murder mystery. You start off with a murder, the first of a long line. Each contestant gets to look through the crime scene and find whatever clues they can. They must do whatever they can to solve the case and find the killer. Of course there are rules. If the contestants work together then the amount of money they win will be reduced. The game is really about being able to think outside the box, research and determination.
The murders must be violent and gory, this firstly for the shock the audience will get but secondly to give a realistic effect on the contestants. People want to see the contestants fail, sometimes. To see them break down and completely lose it. They also want to see the people that deal with it perfectly and maybe even start behaving like real detectives. I haven’t had a chance to think up a scenario for the serial killings but something with the in depth story and back that Se7en had. It should be a case that can be solved via research as well as wits, just like a ‘real’ detective. As far as prizes goes cash would definitely be one, but not sure about what else at the moment. The show would give people the chance to become one of their favourite characters from a film or novel. A real life crime solver!
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Friday Challenge – Three Little Things
A quick note:I do not consider the new Star Wars films to be of any importance. Therefore, this Stormtrooper is not a Kiwi Clone because that is just ridiculous.
Imperial Stormtrooper #TK-421
- While he does not have too many vices, TK-421does enjoy playing on the Sabaac tables in the mess hall when not on shift. As a youngster he and his friends would sneak into bars and clubs to watch, and sometimes play, Sabaac on his home world of Corellia.
- TK-421 is a member of the Blaster Rifle Association (BRA). He shoots in competition every second Saturday for the Imperial team, which he does quite well in. Although he was interested in competition shooting before he joined the Empire he did not get involved in the BRA for a few years after being recruited. It was not until he discovered he could be paid to shoot and get every second Saturday off duty.
- Finally, TK-421 has two children to his ex-wife. He is free to see his two girls when he would like to but unfortunately his work often has him away for a long time. He loves the time that he gets to see them and takes the opportunity whenever he can. He collects things from all the different planets he visits and sends them back to his girls. He looks forward to when he has saved up enough money to go home to be with his girls. This will be when he has saved enough money to open and weapons repair shop. This does not mean that he is not enjoying the life of a Stormtrooper for the Empire, but it’s only a job.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Friday Challenge - Wii for Geezers
The Wiind in the Willows!
All people over the age of about 60 come from a time before television, a time when books were a major source of entertainment. Not to say that they aren’t today as well, but today we have a lot more things to do on a rainy day. The Wind in the Willows was written in 1908 and has been a popular story with kids and adults ever since. The story itself has lead to be difficult to reproduce as a video game but with the Wii and the seniors as the audience, what can go wrong!
Now the emphasis here needs to be on the story. So a strong cast for the voices in definitely important, I’m thinking Steven Fry or Morgan Freeman. What this game wants to do is animate the story that our audience as read many times before with some interaction. The best way to do this is to break it down into four sections.
• Spring
• Summer
• Autumn
• Winter
Each section will include its own interactive cinematic parts and mini-games. For example Spring could have a cleaning game for the Mole or a diving game for Ratty. A sure fire hit will be getting to crash 6 cars for Toad’s mini-game, this may not be a difficult task for some. Having such a wide range of characters and locations to play with it means that every time the game is played there is a different game or scenery. The games however, do not need to be involved… or even long… or even challenging. This is about entertainment and telling a story, a much loved story.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Friday Challenge - A Clean, Well Lighted Place
The air is hot. Even in the shade you feel the heat. You feel yourself sweating all over, losing precious liquids. The ranges on either side of this dry and brittle valley poke up out of the ground like the back bone of a giant animal. All moisture here is soaked up by the ground and the sun. The dry bones of a long dead goat tell the tragic story of life without water. Water is the answer out here. Without it one will surely perish. You will be devoured by this lands endless thirst. The sun beams down high over head and it burns all that it touches. You can feel it burning your skin after only a few minutes. Traveling by night is the safest option, though waiting here feels like waiting to die. The eagles and crows circle above and perch themselves on nearby trees waiting, watching and knowing. It is either wait here, or die trying to make it further.
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