Saturday, February 28, 2009

getting creepier, can't stop, creepfest, creepy mccreeps, damn ... it's ... too ... so ... creepy

As the darkness clouded around his imaginary spy camera (you know, one of those ones that you always see advertised on those pr0n sites -- he actually bought one. But when he bought it he found it to be somewhat too ... flimsy ... for his intended uses. So he went online to one of those 'tell me how they make that' sites, and asked how one could turn a common wifi-enabled webcam into a throwable device. "I need to know how much padding it needs to throw it, without breaking" he had said. "And what materials to use." You will notice, as indicated before this lengthy excursion into the parentheses, that all of this is imaginary) he let out a wail.

"How long must one languish," he wailed, dramatically, "in this sorry excuse of a prison one calls 'life'?" Having said this, he shoved his forehead against the wall, cracking a thin line in the skin, which then dripped thick red blood onto the grisly prison cell floor. Dramatically.

"You fucking posh wankers," said the crack ho.

He turned to look at his cellmate in disdain. "What now, whore?"

"You fuckin' whinin' posh wankers," she said in disgust. "Come in here on yer bleedin' little violation of restrainin' order charges." She spat. "Come walk a day in my life, mate, any day."

He turned, the blood swishing through the air. "You? You dare question my pain? A crack whore? A person who opens her legs up to let in the crack? You vie to correspond somehow with *my* incredible grief?"

She stared back dispassionately. "Don't fuckin' advance on me in here, mate. There's cameras all over. They're watchin' us, in the other room." She nodded at each corner of the room.

He cut his murderous desire towards the woman short. "Why do you even have a British accent? You were born in fucking Hoboken," he said, instead.

"I was?" she said, and then she was lost to him, suddenly. "Dude ... I totally was! I was born in ... " Her eyes glazed over, as some distinct, long forgotten memories of Hudson County, New Jersey smeared over her mind like childhood. There were fields of roses, and quaint little villages with quaint little people, and dwarves. They are always pleased to see you, and baking a fresh, warm golden pi --

"Fucking disgusting," he spat, and then he crouched back into his corner, bleeding forehead in his palm. "Now, where was I, where was I?" he mumbled to himself. "Damn train of thought ... can never ... remember where I was going with this ..."

The crack ho broke into a sad song behind him. A low key, sort of rambling song. No particular tune, no particular melody, just a little sad, broken song that one may expect from a crack ho.

"Got lost out on his stealthiness,
my dear kitten I had as a child ...
Where's he now, I sometimes wonder?
Though I know they don't live this long ..."

He groaned. "Shut up, shut up! I remember now! I was trying to be creepy."

"Why were you trying to be a creep, McCreeps?" asked the crack ho, her head rotating two hundred and seventy five degrees, ending up looking at him. "Did you think that, somehow, by being a creep towards her, you might win back her affections?"

He banged his forehead against the wall again, then quickly crumpled his hand against it. "It's an advanced strategy ..."

"There's a restraining order --"

"I know! I know! But there must be a loophole, somewhere ..."

"And it's not just any little restraining order," continued the bedeviled ho, now smiling within the golden flair of her youthful persona. "Not just the ... one little person ... you're supposed to stay away from."


The crack ho started laughing evilly.


"No, my dear. No. It's the whole bloody world! Muaahahaahhaha. You're under a restraining order from the entire smoking, gravitationally rotating, cosmically floating, bally WORLD!"

"No ..."

"You will never again sneak into the shed with your neighbor's sow!"


"You shall never climb atop the Empire State Building and flick a booger upon the masses below!"

"Noo ...."

"You can never trick the stewardesses into letting you in the cockpit (think of all those gnarly joysticks and clever gadgetry) with promises of gross airborne infidelity ..."

"Stop ..."

"And they will never put you in the Space Programme."

"I wanna go to spaaaaaaace ...."

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