21 January, 2012

It's on like Red Dawn.

Holy shit! It's been twenty days since last I posted here. Excuse me while I go commit ritual seppuku.

Okay, I'm back. That was kind of boring. So what's new with all four of you people who read this rag? Not much here, just the usual life of a professional writer: heavy drinking, cavorting with socialites and giving advice to struggling up and comers. A rather strange story to this effect occurred last week, and I guess since I've nothing better to do I shall relate it to you all.

Last week, I polished off about a litre of Stolichnaya vodka (for whom I should be the official spokesman or something) and was wandering about my apartment complex, shouting at children, when there before me appeared a grizzled old man. He seemed rather perplexed by the sight before him: an inebriated cripple shouting at everyone in his midst, bedecked in fedora, monocle and tweed suit and having nary a care in the world.

"Young man." He asked me. "How do you do it? Though I, in all my years, have learned much of this world and what it has to offer, I have yet to live such a depraved life as you and I do highly doubt that I know how."

It was then that I rolled myself in my mighty, gilded wheelchair to him and clapped him familiarly upon the shoulder. "My boy." I told him. "It is a simple enough proposition, living the 4.5 tatami life." I related. "Indeed, it is quite an easy thing to do. Simply quit your job, drink incessantly and dress as if you're a mercenary from the 1940s and the money will follow."

"Th-that's really it!?" He stammered to which I nodded generously and drunkenly. He, with the energy and vigor of a schoolboy cheered and sprinted to his apartment as I promptly rolled my wheelchair onto my neighbor's porch to vomit.

I saw the old man again yesterday. Well, I saw him in a fashion. Whilst reading Komsomalskaya Pravda, my news rag of choice, I read that an energy cloud had begun attacking Pyongyang a week prior. I didn't need to read the rest of the article. I knew that the old man had finally gotten his wish. He was going to destroy Communism. A proud tear streamed from my eye then, I am not ashamed to say. I put down the paper and turned to my trusted sidekick, the Blind Wizard. "It is time." I said, donning my cloak and jetpack. "Prepare the zeppelin, The Red Hammer, for I have a new nemesis."

It's on like Red Dawn, ya herd?

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous18:37

    You have issues, dear.

    ReplyDelete
  2. More issues than a news stand.

    ReplyDelete