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Location: British Columbia, Canada

Yeah. I got nothin.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

On Wildlife: Fuck It

So I rolled out of bed this morning and stepped right on a motherfucking parakeet. Stepping on a parakeet first thing in the morning kicks the ass of getting up on the wrong side of the bed, and let me tell you, those motherfucking parakeets are the worst. Not only do you have squashed parakeet to cope with, you also have all the incest-related parakeet goo slathered to your naked soles.
So that put an end to my oft reinstated, rarely abided by oath of grime, because I may go weeks without bathing, but paraslime is beyond even me. Needless to say, the necessary podiasterilization process took some time, making me late, and a little fucking cranky.
Hopped out of the shower, and my cat gave me a friendly reminder that her breakfast was sorely missed by slitting my throat from ear to ear. Tossed her some parakeet corpses, dropped the kid at daycare, and headed over to the O.R. to visit my parents old buds and get my throat stitched back together.
Course the whole process ended with me missing my morning lecture, and sent my well planned day of productivity into a tailspin. So I smoked. A lot. Wrote a couple of medleys on candy and fruit, sang said medleys, smoked some more, tried to toss a cigarette song into said medleys, couldn't come up with any....the day generally improved.
Fucking camel. It's all about the fucking camel. Thought things were good, had some lunch, (turkey sandwich, on sourdough, with edam), headed out for yet another nicotine fix, and tripped over a motherfucking camel.
That there's not literal. The camel was not fucking his mother, at that time. Wouldn't put it passed 'im though.
Then that fucker gave me lip. Oh yeah, he did too. So you know how it goes from there, don't you? Yeah? Well, I'm gonna tell you about it anyway:

So first I kicked that camel in the shins. Cause it doesn't matter how many times you tell them your gonna do it, they always think you're gonna aim for the balls. Well fuck that shit, the shins double em up just as fast, and ain't nothin better then watching their little camel snouts comin down to meet up with your knee. I say kapow, I do.
Anyway, security's pretty speedy round my parts, so I dragged that battered camel out of the public eye and to the elevator where I could relive my fav scene from Silence of the Lambs. Ripped that little camel face off with my teeth, and stuffed into the florecents. No, not the whole camel, you think I can lift a camel over my head? Lets get a little reality here, people. Just the face. The rest of the camel, I dragged home with me.
Once home, I struck a deal with the cat. I'd let her live, despite the murder attempt of the morning, and not even lay charges, if she'd aid me with the really dirty work. So she set those twenty little razor claws to action, and sliced that cloven hooved quadruped neatly into shish kebabs. Then, we reveled in our sado-bonding experience (that's bonding, not bondage, you sick fuck), had a couple hot buttered rums, and feasted on kabobs.
Had some rum left, but why waste the good stuff? So to further our mission (the cat was now my full accomplice. Don't get me wrong, she has nothing against camels, she just likes torture), we headed back up the the college and busted in to the chem lab. Rambo-style chaos ensued, and we vacated in proud possession of one of those thingy's that you heat, and some shit goes one way, while some shit goes another. What are those? What ev.
Anyway, back to not wasting the good shit:
So robbed the liquor store (not blasphemous, Scruffy's has shitty selection anyway), and gots us some Wildcat, king of the crappiest beer ever made. Hucked it in that chem lab thang, and filtered out the water until that Wildcat beer was pure Wildcat gold.
Good timing too, those kebabs were starting to kick things up a notch in the old intestines. Whipped together a pentagram on the balcony, shit out some camel kebab dead center in that pentegram, and summoned one very unhappy camel spirit back into it's now digested body. Let me tell you, by that point, he was one fucking miserable camel.
Mocked the steaming pile of possessed camel-shit for a bit (nothing hurts like mockery), then poured our 40 proof Wildcat over the shitcamel, and lit that pile on fire.
Burn, camel baby, burn. Ever seen a camel scream? Well, I have.
Me and the cat are gonna keep that bonfire goin all night long. Watch the sun set, have some hot buttered rums, maybe make a rum cake. Tell some scary stories.
What about the SPCA? Animal cruelty prevention, and all that? Yeah, fuck them. Me and the cat, we's bonding.
The Kid, where's she at? You gonna submit her to this lunacy? Fuck no, I got a babysitter. Saving her morality/sanity? Hell, no. This is family shit here.

She's just allergic to camels.


Blogger Truecraig said...

Smokin' Camels... nice! I'm a Parliament man myself, but that whatevs clevs.

"Clevs?" Yes. That sounds really gay. And I'm okay with that.

11/17/2005 8:45 AM  
Blogger Impulsivecompulsive said...

No Parliments here, this is Canada. No Camels either, really, but what're you gonna do.

11/19/2005 8:36 AM  

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