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[15 Nov 2004|09:02am] |
You alright? Yeah, i'm alright...you?
Shut it. I awake from a dream in which I was part of a DOOM level. Again. My rather odd residency in dream state also involved crashing into a big plough.
Such cheery twist of fate. Or bad driving.
The cast list for the LHC: Bolb, Stoney, Vince, and I. Didn't get much work done, but I probably don't need to add much more, neither can I be bothered. The excerpt is small, alright? About 832 words small.
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[15 Nov 2004|09:25am] |
Feel a sudden urge to jump forwards to January...for...some..reason.
Anyway...today is a working day due to the fact that I can't jump forwards in time, as well as the other month and a half in between. Fucking chronology.
Monday at the Bell, followed by some more homework panicking, and then a desolate train ride to college, amongst the mass, when I just want to be with feet up, typing sketches about peanut detention centres.
"Jones, you nutty slag! You can't even 'old a fuckin' crowbar with that useless shiny rotund body of yours...where's yer arms! *SMASH*"
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| The Children's Prison Dramas that never made it: |
[15 Nov 2004|09:53am] |
No 1:
Santa Claus - the Borstal years.
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| Santa |
[15 Nov 2004|09:59am] |
"Dear? Wake up...."
"Wha..a.a...a.WHAT?"
"It's time to get up...the elves are here.."
"ooo............oh my head...OH FUCKING HELL...why didn't you wake me woman! JINGLE CUNTING BELLS!"
"i did...just then..."
"Oh fuck...i'd better shave...need to be clean to have my bear stapled.....can't turn up to grottos looking like a whisky slinging drunk."
*Ding dong*
"Why the fuck is that bell phonetic? SHUT UP!....I'm fucking coming! Really, Ms Santa, we must get a bell that chimes...plays "Fairytale in new york" or something...christmassy, with a twist!"
"Why do you call me Ms Santa? We're married, and my surname isn't Santa!"
"Yeah, whatever you say, darlin'. Put the kettle on will ya?"
*DING DONG*
"Put a sock in it you little cunts!"
*Creeeeakkk*
"Really must do something about that talking door too....alright...lads?"
"Hey Santa....here for the usual yearly toy making and drug taking"
"What did you say?"
"Er....nothing..."
"Hmm..could have sworn you said "toy making"....we'll have none of that..."
"Oi, Santa! They're saying you don't exist...and that Sony are Christmas now!"
*BASH*
"Ow!"
"Does it fucking well feel like I don't CUNTING exist now, green hat?"
"No Santa. Right, you 'orrible lot! Fall in and let's get festive!"
More later.
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[15 Nov 2004|10:25am] |
You are 80% Virgo
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[15 Nov 2004|11:16am] |
Three times I have tried to print this fucking essay out, three times it's printed it with the wrong punctuation, despite the fact I CHANGED THE FUCKING things three fucking times.
DO YOU not know the difference between a full stop and a comma, printer? For FUCK's SAKE.
Right, it's done. I had to correct it in pen, despite it being right on the bloody document. I'm off to shower now, and go to work after which I will certainly be irritable and not looking forward to catching trains. This though, I must do.
Bye then.
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[15 Nov 2004|04:20pm] |
That's a burning chemistry. It's starting to really sound fun now. Like playing naked Cluedo in a big swimming pool full of yogurt. Such dark passionate eyes, such spirit, such intelligence. And a small hilarious white pawed cat. I seriously need to cool down.
God.
Oh hi! Yes. You lot. Thanks for coming. I'm only a brief visitor this afternoon. I must fly and catch a train. That of course is not flying. Cold pavements await, the misty breaths of Broadstairs bound Phyllis, as he endures trains, chavs, hideously cloned wrench back haired girls wearing tracksuits, and dimming light.
I will see you tomorrow.
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