Only when it's been finished and saved and The Cellar Door Sessions done chewed themselves in five, only with Conor Oberst, sweet lovely Conor, whispering from the speakers either side, only then might a fella feel like lunging t'wards the legs of this towering beast all cloaked in vowels and consonants, this shuddering behemoth all foaming at the groin, take hold the fucker's ankles and watch it tumble to the ground, splitting its skull on the frost-kissed kerb, mangled sentences an' turns of phrase spewing out the crack in the brains.
Then, y'unnerstann, a fella can sift through the wreckage and answer that question been tickling the mentals; What was I writing about?
Turns out it was a loada bollocks, although, thank fuck, written with such astonishing disregard for grammatical etiquette that ain't nobody in the here or there'll ever be fit to tell."
"You sicken the very yellow out my pish", The Priest announces, "I'm away for a shite."
No sooner has The Priest done skidaddled, y'unnerstann, than a fella with a Blue Note t-shirt wanders o'er and perches to my left.
A nod from yours truly, and an Alright?
He looks all sortsa troubled, kinda look a man might find clinging to the yap of a fella just woke up inside a Bishop. "I dunno", he says. "Feel a bit odd, tell you the truth."
What he tells me is that this morning, sometimes around 11 in the AM, he felt a weird throbbing to the north of his knees, a bizarre pulse in an area can only be described as his arsehole.
"First, you'll be aware, I thought it was a dose o' the runs."
A fair assessment. Who would argue with such an assumption? Who but the zaniest bastards ever done zaned the evening wacky would greet the news with anything shy of an Aye, stands to reason? Stands to reason that a tremble in the sphincter most likely relates to a bad case o' the runny tummys.
"So I took myself off to yonder toilet, flung the arse o'er the rim and got to reading a spot o' Joyce."
And?
"And nothin' happened. Yet still this rumble back the cack-pipe."
Finding a handy palm-sized mirror near to hand, our beleaguered chum done squatted o'er the glass for to better inspect the dodgy orifice.
"A lump like a horse's nut, right there, growing out my very arse."
It looked like no hemorrhoid he'd ever seen, not a single branch o' fleshy-bobbles e'er bore fruit the likes o' this.
Article comments
1 - Aaron Fleming
Hahahaha! What a brilliant tale! Best short story I've read since that thing about the man in the clock that was in the big hole or something.
2 - Steve C.
Oh my God dude that was so awesome. Well done, good sir.
3 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
heh, glad you liked it, fellas. hopefully i can raise consciousness about the issue, that far-right bum-growths the world over might be spied soon enough to be removed with little or no damage to the afflicted (i.e, Belfast, Florida, Birmingham etc)
4 - Mark Saleski
THAT...was brilliant. for a second there, i thought the story was going down the track of the film ¨How To Succeed In Advertising". gawd, now that woulda been ugly!
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Thank you Sir Saleski. Interestingly enough, a sunday newspaper was giving away a free copy of How To Get Ahead... on DVD last week. i forgot to buy the damn paper.
In my memory, it stands up proud as a sorely underrated flick, if no Withnail And I. maybe the reality is somewhat different.
6 - DJRadiohead
Duke, be assured I am going to read this fine piece of Mind Wax directly and have comments for you upon completion. I mostly felt compelled to comment on your shirt.
Done.
7 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
DJ, i look forward to your thoughts. As to the shirt... if you wanna borrow it, like, i'm more than happy to accomodate... heh.
8 - DJRadiohead
Duke, my apologies for not getting back to this sooner.
"Fuck-flaps." That gets added to the list without question.
You have outdone yourself again. Can't wait for V3 to arrive.