Collide-o-scope Eyes part 3

This is part 3. Follow the links to Part 1 and Part 2. Enjoy.

I woke up on a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, tied up. No one was around, except for Lady Madonna. I saw her standing there by the riverbank. She's got a ticket to ride outta this place, never to be seen again.
"Why the fuck are you doing this, Lady?!" i scream. That reminds me, what flavour ice cream should i get today? Rocky road?
She took out a radio and started to play a song. It's a bit dark, and a tad out of key.
"What the hell is that?"
"It's only a northern song. It brings back memories of yesterday..." a tear drops from her eyes.
"Fred Kite used to be my lover." she uttered, almost crying. She wasn't crying though. Tears, yes. Crying, no. There's a difference between the two.
That still doesn't explain anything. So what if Fred Kite used to be her lover? Oh fuck. Is he the father of all her children? Good gum, that old fucker can really fertilize an egg.
"You needed compensation from him? That doesn't make sense. Where'd you get your money years ago? The money's just recently got stolen." Hell, nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing ever does.
"IT'S NOTHING TO GET HUNG ABOUT! Just fuck off and die." She shot the boat. Pretty good shot. There's a hole now. I started to twist and shout. Fuck. Reminds me of that damn song. She left the damn scene. The boat is sinking. I managed to wiggle my way out of the ropes. I put my hands up and shouted for help. Fuck, i can't swim with my boots on. I don't know how. Why did i have to wear boots today?
Everything went blurry.
Everything went blank.

*****

I woke up in what appears to be a garden. I was under the shade of a tree. I was soaked. My grey fedora ruined. I need a new one. I coughed out water.
"You alright young man?" I heard an old familiar voice say. It was Mr. Kite.
"Come together now. Take it easy." He knows it ain't easy. He helped me rest my back on the tree. I felt weak. I need to go home and make myself feel alright.
"I'm going home." I forced myself to stand, but my knees were too weak to support myself. I feel on the grass. Mr. Kite helped me get up.
I was dumbfounded. Must be the lack of oxygen. I needed some coca-cola.
"Can ya get me a bottle of Coke?" That was a bit shameless. He left my side and went to get me one. Nice man. I drank to the last drop. That was refreshing. Damn it, i sound like an endorser. Fuck.
"What the hell were you thinking, young man?" Hell, i wasn't thinking. I closed my eyes. Living is easy with eyes closed.
I dreamed.

to be continued

Collide-o-scope Eyes part 2

This is part 2. If you want to read part 1, click here

Who could be calling me at this unholy hour? Hell, any hour is unholy.
I answered the call. Nothing.
I was about the hang up, then, a muffled voice came from the speaker.
"HEY HAL..."
"He... Hell... Hello." I stammered in reply. That was creepy.
"Who are you? How'd you know my name and number?"
"I AM THE WALRUS." And i'm the Eggman. Very funny.
"IT ISN'T IMPORTANT HOW I GOT YOUR NUMBER, BUT WHY. I CAN HELP YOU." He might be right. I needed all the help i could get. I needed somebody. Hell, anybody.
"Okey. Come on, spill the beans."
"SITTING IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN, WAITING FOR THE SUN."
He hung up. What the fuck was that?

*****

I went home. It was 3 in the morning, and the sun still hasn't come up. I need another Coke.
I recalled to myself what that fucker said, 'sitting in an english garden, waiting for the sun'. What does he mean by that? Realization dawns at me. Find a fucking english garden, fucktard. Only one person in this whole city owned one, and that person was Lady Madonna. Royalty, but very close to the masses. What does she have to do with this?

I ran all the way to her mansion. I had to break in at the backyard, surely i won't be invited to parties at her estate anytime soon. There she was, sitting in her english garden, surrounded by cellophane flowers of yellow and green, waiting for the sun.
" Lady Madonna, may i ask you a few questions?"
"What are you doing in here? GUARDS!" Oh fuck.
"Please, i mean no harm!" I showed her my badge, to show her i'm on her side. Guards came in, but she immediately sent them away. Damn blue meanies.
"So, what is it that you want, detective?" She said. The sun still hasn't risen.
"I want answers. With so many children, how do manage to make ends meet? Who makes the money? Who pays the rent?" She was living the big life, but she doesn't have a job, or a husband, or anything. Why the fuck is she fucking rich in the first place?
Wait, she's royalty. I fucking forgot that.
"I'll tell you. But not now. Here comes the sun, it's alright." She said.
I saw the sun rise. It was beautiful.
I went unconscious.

to be continued.

Collide-o-scope Eyes

Picture yourself on a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, to a guy drowning before your eyes.
That's what i saw.

I wore my grey fedora again, forgetting that odd things happen when i wear it. Subconsciously, i wanted something to happen.
I am a really bored fucker.
I was eating a sandwich by the park, alone. Kids were everywhere. Running around, like they were high. Turns out, they were not children. They were circus midgets, and very high for a person of their stature. My phone vibrated. I never use a ringtone. Too annoying, too battery-consuming, and too noisy for sneaking around.
It was my boss, Sarge Pepper. I still remember meeting him for the first time 20 years ago today. He taught me the stuff i know about the trade, but he was a fucking terrible teacher.
"Hey Hal." (were you expecting Hey Jude?)
"Hey. What do you want now? It's my lunch break."
"I've got a case for you. You know the Mr. Kite Benefit?"
I know that benefit. I donate at least a dollar to that every month. "Yeah. Why?" I took a sip of my Coke.
"Funding got stolen. Clean swipe."
I spit my drink in a spray. "WHAT?" I can't believe it. That money was supposed to be for the orphanage down Strawberry Fields.
"I'll e-mail you the details." Sarge said. I'm still in shock. I took a bite of my sandwich. I hung up.
E-mail received.

I went to Mr. Kite's house. It was a nice one. Across the street, i saw four damn hippie looking guys crossing the street, all in a line. And why is that one guy barefoot?
I rang the door bell. It was one of those old school door bells that had actual bells.
No answer.
I rang again.
Still no answer.
Then, i heard footsteps approaching the door.
"I'm coming! Damn it, can't a 64 year old man get some rest?" He was right. I came to his house at an inappropriate time. Why do i go to places at midnight?
He answered the door. He looked at me with his cataract eyes. This was Mr. Fred Kite himself. Not a dime of the charity he ran went to him, clearly.
"May i ask you a few questions, sir?"
"Yer asking one right now. What is it? Are ya sellin' girl scout cookies?"
"No, it's about your charity. The Mr. Kite Benefit."
"Oh, that. Yeah, that. Please, come in. Coffee or tea?"
" I shoot Coca-cola, please."
"Weird little kid."

He told me he hasn't been involved with the charity since he retired. How can one be retired? Are you tired once and get tired again?
He told me to go to his former assistant, Jeremy Hilary. He now took charge of the whole thing, collection and all.
I went to his house, which was just next door to old Fred's house. A strange stench came to my senses. Blood.
I broke the door. There he was, bathing in his own blood. Dead. Obviously.

The trail grew dead. Fuck.
My phone vibrated.

to be continued.

Look Both Ways

I can't remember the exact date. Was it February 18 or 19, or some other day in February a few days after Valentines of 2008? I don't remember, but i do remember what happened. Every moment of it.

It was my last year in high school. I was crossing the street with my girlfriend so we could go home. I remembered i had to go home earlier than usual, and that means i couldn't be with her on her way home.At least her sister was there to keep her company. I had to cross back because the way to my house was on the other side of the street. She already took the ride home, but the vehicle still hasn't left. I was beginning to cross, but i couldn't look away from her, and waved good bye. A pick-up truck hit me.

I was still standing, but slightly shooked up. My backpack feel on the pavement. I was holding my left elbow, because that was the area that got hit. It was a black Hilux, Toyota i think, with what seems to be hard PVC bumpers. Thank gum they're not metal.
The driver got out of the truck. He asked if i was okey. I said i don't know. I looked behind me, and my girlfriend was still there. She looked like she would start to cry. I hate to see her cry. The traffic policemen told me i had to go to the hospital. The driver gladly volunteered.
On the ride to the hospital, i found out he was a nurse, and so was his wife that was on the front seat. I was still shocked by what happened. I was more worried on how my girlfriend was. I hope she's okey..
Finally at the hospital. Turns out his mother-in-law was a doctor there. Just my luck. The guy that bumps me with a pick-up happens to be a nurse related to a doctor. I started to feel better, because i knew it was going to be okey. I filled in the forms and I was X-ray'd. I was given mefenamic acid to stop any possible swelling. It was time to go home. We looked at the bumper, and it was broken. Not dented, but in a way, dislocated. I felt no pain.

Finally home. My parents freaked out, but i just drank some coke and watched TV. IM'd my girlfriend and told her i was okey. I got the x-ray results next day.

Nothing was broken. Not even a scratch on my skin. No charges. No bills. Nothing. Just a broken bumper and memories.

Note: this was a real event in my life. Still can't forget it.

The Grey Fedora

I bought this grey fedora from an old shop down at China Town. It was quite cheap, but of good quality. I was originally looking for black, but they ran out of that colour ever since Michael Jackson died. Fuck pop music.
It was a nice fit. Snug, but not too tight to stop the blood flow to my brain. I needed my brain. It keeps me going.
I wore it with a nice grey trenchcoat i borrowed from a good friend of mine. I don't own anything grey, until i bought the fedora. All was set. Grey fedora, grey coat, black tie, white shirt, black pants, black shoes. Time to go downtown.
*****
The only lights visible on the street were street lights. A fog started to blanket the city. It was cold outside. I love it when it's cold.
Not much visibility. Had to be careful on what i step on, or who i step on.
I stood under a street light to check my watch. It was minutes to midnight. Almost showtime.
*****
A few minutes later, a long shadow stood beside mine. My shadow looked cooler, because it had a fedora on. I smelled smoke. A very distinct smell, like chocolate. Only one man smoked chocolate scented cigars. It was Smokin' Santino. Chain smoker/hired killer/chocolate aficionado.
"What time is it on your watch?" he asked, even though he clearly had a pocketwatch. Who wears pocketwatches these days?
"I don't know, kiddo." I answered. I grinned as I said this. He started to laugh too, but coughed his lungs out afterwards. That's why i don't smoke.
"You're a funny guy. Fuck you." he said. I knew he was angry. Ready to kill.
"Thanks. Fuck you too, motherfucker." I didn't take him seriously. What the fuck was i thinking?
*****
"Nice hat." he said.
"This cheap old thing? Thanks." i replied. I knew he was genuine about that compliment. Even killers know when to compliment.
I wanted to scratch my nose, but i couldn't. I was all tied up, literally. He tied up in a chair somewhere. Must be the docks. It smelled faintly of fish, but the chocolate smoke still managed to cover up most of that.

What the hell do i do now?

The Idea Lightbulb is Broken at the Moment.

I am proud to say that i have Writers Block. Again. Fuck.
Everyone hits this slump. Even my good friend moegreeb is having trouble deciding on what to write for his blog. Hell, at least he's got some options and ideas, which i don't have for now.
Everything's been a tad slow for the past two days. Nothing interesting happens. I tried to make a scene myself, but just fizzled down to "meh". Shit.

I need a cure for this Writers Block.
Where's my Muse?

Note:
click the moegreeb link to get to his blog. At the bottom of his page are links to other blogs. Enjoy.

Boybands, Fedoras, Parties, and Other Things.

Lots of things went on during the days when twitter was down.

Friday.
Our college's sports festival. I played darts, and lost. I played softball, and we won 2nd. I competed in the quiz bowl, and we won 2nd too. All was well. That evening. We (i and three of my friends. Note: we are all straight men.) were supposed to compete in an impersonation competition, a contest were the usual people are gays that impersonate girl groups. We thought, "Hell, it's always girl groups. Why not boy bands for a change?". We choose the Backstreet Boys, because it was the first thing that came to mind when the word boy band is uttered.

The Backgate Boys.
L to R: me, mark, fred, maiko

We won that damn competition. Here's the details on the after party, AKA the College of Education Socialization.

Saturday Morning

Bought a new fedora, and i bought it from a rather odd shop. It has electronics (dvd players, digital clocks, flat screens) on the first floor, a pet shop on the second floor, and miscellaneous other things like lighters and dildos around. That's right. I said dildos.They sold them in this secluded, but open, area of the shop, just next to the counter. The area where they sold hats, guitars, rice cookers, and dildos. They had ran out of black, ever since Michael Jackson died, so i had to settle for a grey one, which was a problem since i don't own a grey suit, or a grey trench coat, or any trench coat. (this is a tropical country. Go figure)

Saturday Night
Hurriedly dressed up for the party.
Black coat, check.
Black tie, check.
Grey fedora, check.

Yeah. That's me.

Lots of weirder shit went on. Like this:

That's our trophy. ENVY US!!!

and this:

The backs of the Backgate Boys

and these:

THIS IS SPARTAAAAAAA!!!!!.

The Conspiracy Conspiracy

Everything and everyone's got a conspiracy theory, from the Moon Landing Hoax to the Obama Birther Conspiracy.
First, let us define a conspiracy theory. A conspiracy theory is a theory that explains a historical or current event, usually by a "secret team" or a "shadow government". They are usually viewed with skepticism and ridicule, because they are utter bullshit [citation needed]. They lack scientific (and logical) evidence, some of which are utterly ridiculous (e.g. THE WORLD IS RULED BY LIZARD LIKE ALIENS THAT ARE DISGUISED AS HUMANS!!!).

Here's what i say:
every conspiracy theory out there is made by a group of conspiracy theorists, bent on keeping the truth from the world. They want to control the information. They want to hide the truth.
THEY'RE ALL CONNECTED! THEY'RE ALL LINKED! IT'S A FUCKING CONSPIRACY!!!

Obituary for Twitter

Note: This is an obituary just in case Twitter never recovers from the denial-of-access attack. Enjoy.

TWITTER
2006-2009
It was a microblogging site where you only use 140 characters or less to tell people what ever you wish.
One day ago, hackers shut it down with a denial-of-access attack. Everyone panicked. Teenagers screamed profanities as a sign of mourning for the loss of their beloved site. Trendy people (douchebags) suffered the fact could not update everyone on the latest happenings on their interesting lives. Stalkers cried as they no longer had the ability to be on the know of the activities of their favourite celebrities.
Twitter. You will be missed.

Here's the twitter status site to find out what's REALLY going on.

That is The Question

Charles Victor Szasz. The man with a really weird-arse name. He was an angry orphan, always questioning why the hell people do stupid shit to other people. The world is a fucked up place.
When he was old enough, he studied journalism. Even had a crush on a certain Lois Lane. After graduation, he worked for a TV station in Hub City under the name Vic Sage, because Charles Victor Szasz was too long and too obscure, and because he wanted to leave his past. He exposed the bullshit that went on in this helltown, but it was pretty much stating the obvious. Bullshit always goes on in Hub City. The mayor was a good dead man, and his widow had to run for office to replace him. Of all the cops in the city, only one of them was honest. He made friends with them, and exposed the even bigger bullshit that he can't expose on TV as The Question, thanks to the Pseudoderm invented by his pal Tot.
After a few adventures, he became disillusioned, even questioned his own role as a vigilante. He went to the Amazon to find himself.
He returned to Hub City a changed man. Trained by Richard Dragon in martial arts and the ways of zen. When the Huntress was accused of murder, he introduced her to Dragon, and helped her focus herself, and had a romantic relationship with Vic along the way.

That was Charles Victor Szasz.
That was Vic Sage.
That was The Question.

Supergirl: What, do you go through my trash?
The Question: Please...
I go through everybody's trash.

source for basic information:
The Question Unofficial Fan Site

DebtNote and Other Money Matters

Debt. Almost everyone's problem, that's why i don't want any of it.
As much as possible, i never borrow money. I don't want to be responsible for someone elses money. Hell, i don't even want to be entrusted with money. I'm afraid i might lose it and pay for it.

I always pay cash. Only problem is, i don't carry too much cash. It's cheaper and better. I only carry what i need, plus 20%, in case of emergencies.
I think it's stupid to wear wallet chains. Here's why:
A pickpocket takes your wallet. You feel a tug on your chain. The pickpocket can't get the wallet, what does he do? He'll pull your chain, and stab or shot you, and just take the cash in your wallet and leave you lying down, bathing in your own blood.

I hate those e-mails that tell me i'd be getting millions (in some cases, billions) because i won a lottery made possible by a tobacco company. That's total bullshit. I don't even smoke. Fucktards. And the ones where some guy from Africa wants to send me money. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A BANK ACCOUNT (for now)!

I don't know the secrets on how to be rich. If i knew, i'd be rich myself.

Shopping for Shit

When i want to buy something, i almost always never go online. Two main reasons:
1. I don't want to get a credit card(too much trouble. I don't want to be indebt to anyone.)
2. I prefer to physically enter a shop, talk to an actual person, and pay in cash. Plus, i can haggle in real life to save money, a thing you can't do online.

People online who want to sell me stuff, you're just wasting your time on me.
I'm off to shop for a new fedora now.

Creep

I enjoy creeping people out. Especially the people that know me, but don't know me well (hell, my friends don't know EVERYTHING about me). It's funny to look at their faces' expressions and reactions. I usually do something that i know will creep my friends out.

Like this one guy. He's a bit homophobic, so, i act like a (no offence) stereotypical gay man just give the fucker the creeps. He'd look shocked, then disgusted, then angry, in that order. Really makes me want to smack the guy in the head for prejudism.
Another one is a bit paranoid inside the men's room. So, when he went to the men's room, i made sure no one else was there. I kicked the door open, and scared the living shit outta that motherfucker by showing up with a camera pointed at him while he was pissing. I tell you, that made him stop urinating that very second. Gave me a punch on the shoulder, but i think i deserved it. Too bad i wasn't fast enough to click the shutter.
Now, this one arsehole just deserves to get creeped out. Keeps copying my research work for most of our subjects. I took a brown paper bag, filled it with various animal shit, and put it in his bag. Until now, that sonovabitch has no clue who put that shit there.

So, there. If you show any signs of weakness (read: annoying behaviour), i'll fucking creep the shit out of you.
I'm not kidding.

The Things I Do

If you must know, i'm bored and uninspired today. So, i'll just make a list of things that i usually do for fun.

1. Watch TV
i have to admit, i'm a bit of a couch potato. I'll watch anything that will catch my eye. I prefer BBC over CNN. I'm a fan of Mythbusters. I watch cartoons when possible. I watch anime too. So, yeah, that's that.

2. Enter cyberspace
i'm on Twitter. I'm on Facebook(look for me if you can.). I read webcomics, specifically Gone with the Blastwave and Suicide For Hire. I read Cracked.com. Hell, i learned more shit from cracked.com(a comedy site) than on any trivia site.

3. Read
bibliophilia. How i love fiction. Science fiction and fantasy are some of my favorite genres. Neil Gaiman, Larry Niven, J.D. Salinger, just some of my favourite writers.

4. Sleep
the wonders of sleep. I get to enter the Dreaming this way. Thanks Morpheus.

5. Do some rather stupid shit
run around doing parkour. play pranks on anyone(i mean ANYONE). perform an improvised dance number with my friends in a large crowd of people. some rather embarrassing things.

6. Drink too much Coke, coffee, and iced tea
i love caffeine. I can't stay awake without it. I've discussed this in a previous blog. Just read it.

Well, that's about it. I'm done for now. Might do item number 4 now. See you in the Dreaming.