The Priest was quick to act.
"Burn the fucker! Burn the very marrow out his bones lest this vile witchery destroy us all!"
But no.
A fella doesn't wander the grot-dens and voodoo parlors for long 'fore he encounters a lady or two might know how best to deal with this kind of ailment.
I know a woman might be able to help us, I announce, woman by the name of Martha Delaney, has a caravan on the coast road, I saw her cure arthritis once wi' nothing more than a budgie and a crack-pipe. I'd wager half my balls she'll know exactly how to go about fixing this whole deranged affair.
Turns out she didn't, but a friend of hers, a PR Consultant works for a solicitor in Belfast, she did.
"I've seen this before", the PR Consultant announced when we tracked her down. "Saw a fella at a Phil Collins gig cut Jerry Falwell out his gums one time." She took a drag from her cigarette. "You don't need to do that though. There are other ways."
The "other ways" amounted to "one way", a complicated procedure involving a cheese-grater, a couple fish and a bin-fulla vipers, to be set alight.
"You need to take the ash from the vipers", she continued, "and have a Priest rub it into your arse."
Thus, I find myself waking up in the opening paragraph with the weeping and the burning and the stench o' roasted snakes.
Later in the day, with the ashes in a plastic bag and the fella in a wheelchair on account of the agony in his anus, we go to meet The Priest in the tavern beside the chapel.
On account of The Privacy an' all, I wait by the bar, sippin' a Red Bull whilst they head off for to remove Ann Coulter from out our friend's accursed bottom. In the down-time I amuse myself by fallin' in love with a lass stood by the pool-table, her hair all blue-streaks and her smile all Bitches Brew. Kinda sadness in her eyes says she knows a thing or two about falling asleep to a song about "My Heart's Been Bleedin' Whiskey (All Across My Brand-New Threads)".
Minor-chord fantasies all unfolding 'hind my eyes; Me and her all lust-soaked and loose-limbed, up for a fortnight Makin' the Love cause we're both fed-up with Fucking.
Me playing her a song I wrote all about the time I saw her in the neon glow o' the tavern whilst The Priest was rubbin' snake-ash into a poorly fella's hole. She'll read me a story about she only talked to me cause she thought I was someone else, but it's ok, turned out you said somethin' funny 'bout "wank".
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.