As noted in the previous post, I have been a little worried about my health, but I've managed to smooth that whole mess out. Seems that liver and kidney function governs the emotional areas associated with guilt and fear, this, as illustrated in the ideas of lower chacra and "intestinal fortitude", all meaning, that my body was simply detoxing and I had been "going to water" over nothing after all! As soon as I realized this, I told my shyster lawyer that I wouldn't be requiring his services after all, any more, and he was free to slither off back to laying in wait over at Central Hospital, haunting the shadows of the entrance to the Emergency Dept. I will, however, say whatever I want to say on the Internet, and name names too, because I don't afraid of anybody! I just switch a few letters around in their names so everyone still knows who I'm talking about but they still can't do shit. You can tell I'm feeling better, can't you?
So. It is prescient that I mention my grip in "the fear" because that is precisely how I was feeling whence resuming consciousness that fateful Sunday morning. October 30th, Hell Night, Devil's Night, the night immediately preceding All Hallows Eve. Penultimate to the day itself, Devil's Night is actually the shadow of evil, darker and more dangerous: all consuming in it's obsequiousness. The common observer, being so mystified by the threatening, occultish aura of the upcoming Halloween night itself, leaves himself open to all manner and name of nefarious activities as the demons begin to descend and surround in their arrival for the Great Day Itself. "All Hail Satan!" they yell through banshee howls, their screeching, siren-calls echoing waves of fear to the dumbfounded, un-assuming, and ultimately doomed race of mankind. Your pithy religions will not save you now! Devil's Night is the master plan of all master plans...brilliant in it's pure ingeniousness...who would suspect, that on this homely, placid, "day before the storm" so to speak, that all manner of diabolical activities are scheduled to take place? Even the Cops are caught unawares. "who would be up to mischief tonight?" they might say, suspecting nothing tonight, and simply taking stock of their arsenal for the evening of Oct 31st itself. All the while the Devils are out! This is their night, of course, and they are exploiting their unspoken license to run a free-reign of terror on this unsuspecting populous.
By noon I'm already fucked. I drank all the remaining Jagermieser (for my stomach) and 12 cans of Lucky, then moved on to half a bottle of vermouth that someone had left at my house, then some Ralph Loren Polo that my Aunt Gave me last Xmas. Then I found my wife's wallet, so it's off to the liquor store, then home to work on my disguise.
Tonight is not about wearing a costume, tonight is about not getting caught, so its a no-brainer, and I've already got it assembled. Basic black-on-black will do it. Like a Ninja, I want to blend in and remain invisible.
I can't wait until it gets dark, and normally, the amount I have drank should have me in a coma by now, but my nervous anticipation is giving me the ability to stay conscious, even in my advanced drunken state. Everything is in place, and it is unfolding in a way that can not and will not fail. Finally, when mercifully darkness descends I begin, and set the wheels of my master plan into motion.
The "Goof" lives 2 doors down from me. I gather my "tool kit" and sling it over my shoulder, then I slip silently into the night. I'm there in an instant, riding the bitter wind, and, like clockwork I set to the preplanned tasks at hand. First I take a dead rat I killed last week specifically for this purpose, a big one, rotting, and I stuff it into his mail slot. thenI piss on it. Then I smear dog shit on his door knob and the handrail running up to his door. that's the front door taken care of, now I slip furtively around to the back door and pour a litre of epoxy glue all over the lock and handle. then i put motor oil all up and down the steep, rickety back steps. Then I scatter large shards of broken glass all around the bottom area.
Next its around front the house to his beloved automobile, which i fill the tank with 2kg sugar, then pour transmission fluid all over the paint-job, slash all four tires, smash headlights, and lastly stuff gas soaked rag into gas tank (for later...you'll see)
Now I'm at to the third phase of my assault, which is to go and light fire to his trash. This is close to the side of the house so when I'm putting gasoline on the bins, I also liberally spray some on his walls, as well as inside a basement window I have just kicked in, specifically for this purpose. I brought lots of gas so I do the front porch too. It burns good, and as I pause to admire my infernal work as it starts to blaze, I am disappointed to see zero reaction from inside the house. Not even so much as a light goes on! I want him to run out in his underwear, freaking out and getting covered in glue, grease, shit, piss, dead rat and broken glass, but nothing. Maybe no one's home, and I've gone to all this effort for nothing! I grab one of the flaming trash cans in frustration and hurl it through his front window, screaming and ranting, calling the motherfucker out. "COME OUT AND FIGHT ME YOU FUCKING COWARD" I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. I catch myself, and realize I better beat a patch outta there before the authorities arrive, and high-tail it back home to my house, drawing all the curtains and sitting silently in the dark, as the gravity of my actions makes itself ever more appallingly clear to my growing fear in light of the seriousness of my just committed crimes.
I sat up all night, listening to sirens and police radios and fire engines just outside my window, frozen with fear, afraid to even breath, but by morning, the worst had passed, and I had used my night to redouble my courage and try to go out and act like I knew nothing of what had conspired. I could hear from the people gathered outside to watch that nobody had seen anything, so I was going to go along with that...play innocent. Besides, I wanted to gloat over the fruits of my malicious labour.
Unfortunately, I was so drunk when I had gone out, that I had accidentally chosen the house next door, and not the fuckin goof's house at all, I even got the wrong car. The house I raided belongs to a little old lady in a wheelchair, and she's apparently in ICU right now. Everyone is astounded that this could happen to the nicest, most-harmless, sweet, little old lady, who's 98year-old-heart just might not recover from all this terrible ordeal, and the 3rd degree burns and broken hip...Oops!
Post; Script: I dunno who's car it was, don't care. They shouldn't park it on the street anyways.
So. It is prescient that I mention my grip in "the fear" because that is precisely how I was feeling whence resuming consciousness that fateful Sunday morning. October 30th, Hell Night, Devil's Night, the night immediately preceding All Hallows Eve. Penultimate to the day itself, Devil's Night is actually the shadow of evil, darker and more dangerous: all consuming in it's obsequiousness. The common observer, being so mystified by the threatening, occultish aura of the upcoming Halloween night itself, leaves himself open to all manner and name of nefarious activities as the demons begin to descend and surround in their arrival for the Great Day Itself. "All Hail Satan!" they yell through banshee howls, their screeching, siren-calls echoing waves of fear to the dumbfounded, un-assuming, and ultimately doomed race of mankind. Your pithy religions will not save you now! Devil's Night is the master plan of all master plans...brilliant in it's pure ingeniousness...who would suspect, that on this homely, placid, "day before the storm" so to speak, that all manner of diabolical activities are scheduled to take place? Even the Cops are caught unawares. "who would be up to mischief tonight?" they might say, suspecting nothing tonight, and simply taking stock of their arsenal for the evening of Oct 31st itself. All the while the Devils are out! This is their night, of course, and they are exploiting their unspoken license to run a free-reign of terror on this unsuspecting populous.
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| Satan's Minions |
I, of course, am no different. This is my favorite night of the year! Better than New Year's Eve, better than My Birthday, even better than Halloween itself! This is my Day-Pass from the dungeon of daily life, and I have Carte Blanche to go and vandalize the shit out of my asshole neighbor's house. I fuckin hate my neighbor. Just the one guy. Everyone else on my street rocks, we're all tickity-boo, I get along great with everybody...except this one guy. He's a real fuckin goof! He's always out washing his car with the classic rock radio playing too loud, and he hangs out with his loser friends on the sidewalk and spits and stares at people with his stupid stare, I hate him. Anyways...Hell Night is tonight and I'm totally prepared to do what I have to do. I've been planning it all year...I've got all the supplies, and a full itinerary, I've even drawn a map, with every move of the operation noted and timed-out to the second. But first, it is still the "morning after the night before", and I need me a little drink-ie-poo. Some "hair of the dog that bit me", strictly for medicinal purposes, mind you...and a little "Dutch Courage" to boot, because I am bristling with the excitement of seeing my long-laid plans come to fruition.
By noon I'm already fucked. I drank all the remaining Jagermieser (for my stomach) and 12 cans of Lucky, then moved on to half a bottle of vermouth that someone had left at my house, then some Ralph Loren Polo that my Aunt Gave me last Xmas. Then I found my wife's wallet, so it's off to the liquor store, then home to work on my disguise.
 |
| The Right Tools for The Right Job! |
I can't wait until it gets dark, and normally, the amount I have drank should have me in a coma by now, but my nervous anticipation is giving me the ability to stay conscious, even in my advanced drunken state. Everything is in place, and it is unfolding in a way that can not and will not fail. Finally, when mercifully darkness descends I begin, and set the wheels of my master plan into motion.
The "Goof" lives 2 doors down from me. I gather my "tool kit" and sling it over my shoulder, then I slip silently into the night. I'm there in an instant, riding the bitter wind, and, like clockwork I set to the preplanned tasks at hand. First I take a dead rat I killed last week specifically for this purpose, a big one, rotting, and I stuff it into his mail slot. thenI piss on it. Then I smear dog shit on his door knob and the handrail running up to his door. that's the front door taken care of, now I slip furtively around to the back door and pour a litre of epoxy glue all over the lock and handle. then i put motor oil all up and down the steep, rickety back steps. Then I scatter large shards of broken glass all around the bottom area.
Next its around front the house to his beloved automobile, which i fill the tank with 2kg sugar, then pour transmission fluid all over the paint-job, slash all four tires, smash headlights, and lastly stuff gas soaked rag into gas tank (for later...you'll see)
Now I'm at to the third phase of my assault, which is to go and light fire to his trash. This is close to the side of the house so when I'm putting gasoline on the bins, I also liberally spray some on his walls, as well as inside a basement window I have just kicked in, specifically for this purpose. I brought lots of gas so I do the front porch too. It burns good, and as I pause to admire my infernal work as it starts to blaze, I am disappointed to see zero reaction from inside the house. Not even so much as a light goes on! I want him to run out in his underwear, freaking out and getting covered in glue, grease, shit, piss, dead rat and broken glass, but nothing. Maybe no one's home, and I've gone to all this effort for nothing! I grab one of the flaming trash cans in frustration and hurl it through his front window, screaming and ranting, calling the motherfucker out. "COME OUT AND FIGHT ME YOU FUCKING COWARD" I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. I catch myself, and realize I better beat a patch outta there before the authorities arrive, and high-tail it back home to my house, drawing all the curtains and sitting silently in the dark, as the gravity of my actions makes itself ever more appallingly clear to my growing fear in light of the seriousness of my just committed crimes.
I sat up all night, listening to sirens and police radios and fire engines just outside my window, frozen with fear, afraid to even breath, but by morning, the worst had passed, and I had used my night to redouble my courage and try to go out and act like I knew nothing of what had conspired. I could hear from the people gathered outside to watch that nobody had seen anything, so I was going to go along with that...play innocent. Besides, I wanted to gloat over the fruits of my malicious labour.
Unfortunately, I was so drunk when I had gone out, that I had accidentally chosen the house next door, and not the fuckin goof's house at all, I even got the wrong car. The house I raided belongs to a little old lady in a wheelchair, and she's apparently in ICU right now. Everyone is astounded that this could happen to the nicest, most-harmless, sweet, little old lady, who's 98year-old-heart just might not recover from all this terrible ordeal, and the 3rd degree burns and broken hip...Oops!
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| Whoopsie-daisy, My Bad! |
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